Inter-Library Loan

Inter-Library Loan Part 3

Chapter 3

Trudging up the subway station steps with head bent and shoulders hunched, Oliver looked defeated. If you were to notice him, this short pudgy, curly-haired, pale, middle-aged man, which let's be honest most people don't notice at all, you would think that someone in his life had died. For Oliver, it was a death in a way. The death of a hope, an idea that had burned in his breast and brain all these years. He always thought, NO believed, that he and C. Paul had a connection that went far beyond their correspondence. Was he wrong?

As he got to the top of the stairs he was buffeted by the head-aching cold of a Buffalo winter so he lifted his head while also scrunching his neck down into his scarf and coat collar to see where he was headed. Where was he headed? It was hours earlier than he usually went home. That is the moment when Oliver decided, a decision that held more weight than he would realize until much later, to go over to Top's to buy some groceries.

As he wandered the aisles, knowing exactly where he was going and what he needed, but wandering all the same in an effort to waste time while his mind raced, the question kept spinning in and out of his consciousness. Was he wrong?

Was he wrong? A box of Cinnamon Life went into his basket. Was he wrong? A couple of cans of peas were handed in next to the cereal. Was he wrong? In went a few boxes of macaroni and cheese. Was he wrong? Five more LeanCuisines from the frozen aisle. Was he wrong? A gallon of milk added and Oliver found himself online at the checkout.

Was he wrong? "What's that?" the young, tall, and scrawny man at the register asked him as he pulled Oliver's items through the laser scanner, beeping as they went. Oliver realized he had spoken out loud that time, grew exceedingly red at the idea of it, shook his head, and mumbled "oh nothing..."

He looked away for a moment, to show that this awkwardness wasn't anything to think about, then turned back to pay for his things and grab his bags. As he turned to go he realized that at the moment he'd looked away he's seen something.

Over on the wall, hanging prominently was a picture of the Manager On Duty. It was this picture that had caught Oliver's eye. He wasn't autistic, but he did have a very good memory of faces and this was a face he knew. Or thought he did. The black and white picture he had seen, often enough on the back of the Oolvier Dragon series was over 25 years old.

He recognized the eyes, and the round face, though the hair was different. Of course it was, time had passed, and styles change. He turned quickly and almost shouted to the young checker "I need to see the manager on duty?"

The young man pulled back and looked shaken, "Is anything wrong sir?"

"Manager on duty, now!" Oliver wasn't being curt, the words weren't spilling out of his mouth fast enough. He was in an almost blind panic. The checker picked up the receiver next to him, punched in a number, and over the loudspeaker his voice boomed "Manager on Duty to check out #6, please. Manager on Duty, check out #6." He hung up the receiver and shrugged at Oliver as if to say, there it is.

Oliver wandered back to the picture on the wall, gazing at it and the name beneath it in wonder. Caterina Paulska it stated in large letters beneath the stern, red-haired and cheeked visage before him.

"May I help you sir? Is there some kind of problem?" A low voice asked from behind him. He was almost afraid to turn, but turn he did and let out a "whoooo" while doing so.

There she was. Only an inch or so shorter than Oliver, yet built in much the same way. Broad-shouldered, not much of a waist, short legs, and red hair. Curly red hair. The picture on the back of the books sported curly hair as well. The moment had come.

He leaned in conspiratorially, "Hello C. Paul, it's me, Oliver"

Her eyes filled with panic and fear as she took a step back, her hand going up reflexively as if to ward off evil.

"It's ok, I won't tell anyone." Oliver panicked as well. Of all things, this plump mouse of a man was scaring her.

"Who are you?" She whispered.

"Oliver, from Canisius? Inter-Library Loan Oliver?" He realized that she had never seen pictures of him, so he kept his voice low, friendly, and very very non-threatening.

Puzzlement crossed her wide features, then realization set in. A loud cackle of a laugh burst from her and she bent over double as her body shook from it. Oliver smiled too. There was nothing to fear now. They had finally met.

"Whooo", she exclaimed as she stood up straight. "Come with me Oliver." She giggled a little as she waved and nodded to the cashier to let him know all was well.

Laden down with his bags Oliver followed behind her, not feeling their weight, as he was walking on air. She led him through the double doors in the back of the store, near the meat counter, into the domain that most customers never see, and only a few are ever curious about. She pushed open a windowed door, covered with schedules and notices, to a small cramped office with a desk and two badly in need of repair office chairs.

"Sit." She smilingly gestured and Oliver cautiously did just that. Looking around him at the cork board covered walls which were themselves covered with reports, signs, and pictures of store employees wearing funny hats and eating cake.

"Well, Oliver it is nice to finally meet you..."

"And you as well, I can't believe after all this..." She raised her hand to stop him, shaking her head gently no at him.

"No Oliver, I'm not who you think I am."

"You're C. Paul, the author. I've seen your picture on the back of your books and we've been writing to one another for..." Over his protestations, she said loudly "That's my sister."