Inter-Library Loan

Inter-Library Loan: Part 6

Chapter 6

It was hard for Oliver to concentrate on his morning book. That was the book he read while he ate a bowl of cereal every morning. There were usually 4-5 books piled on the table and each day he read the top one, and when done with his cereal he would put in a placeholder, then set it at the bottom of the pile.

As a matter of fact, these piles could be found all over the tiny apartment. Stacked next to the couch, the bed, the toilet, everywhere. There was a stack for every place Oliver could be there and for anything he could be doing.

It was even harder for Oliver to concentrate on his Saturday morning book. A pile of books sat next to his armchair, with a coaster near them to keep the beading on the side of his Pepsi from discoloring the side table. No matter how hard he tried, the words on the page weren't making any sense to him.

It was mid-way through his stirring the pot of macaroni and cheese, and reading his cooking book (the book he reads while cooking) that Oliver's head snapped up with a determined look. He knew that he was going to do what he was going to do, just as Tanya knew last night that he would, even if he didn't know it at the time. He poured in the can of drained peas into the pot, stirred it more, then brought the whole pot to the table with a large spoon and set it on a towel so it wouldn't mark up the table.

After polishing off the whole pot, cleaning up, brushing his teeth, and taking extra care of his salt and pepper hair with his brush, Oliver studied himself in the mirror. He was ready. On went the warm boots, winter coat, hat, scarf, and thick gloves. He tucked his chin down into his scarf and out his door he went. He was ready; was the world?

It is very hard to imagine your hand sweating in your gloves when the wind chill factor is 17 degrees Fahrenheit, but that is just what was happening to Oliver as he stood in front of the house he thought was C...Anna's. He stood there without looking at the house, facing down the street so that he wouldn't be conspicuous. Or so he thought.

Oliver's courage was fleeing faster than the blood that was draining from his face. He quickly walked down the block and sat with a thump in a snowbank breathing hard. The cold shook him awake and he stood after just a moment. He noticed there was a fence along the driveway of the house next door to the one that held his fascination and walked along it, trying to quickly catch a glimpse over the top of it.

He was too short and stout to gain any view as he tried to hop up to see without losing his balance on the icy drive. There was a snow bank built up near the end of the wall, where the driveway snow had been plowed, and Oliver used it to climb up for a look over.

The yard before him was filled with snow and ringed in trees. He noticed a footpath worn through the snow following the trail of the trees. He took a few more steps up the snowbank to see more and noticed movement across the yard. A few more steps up and Oliver's courage received an adrenaline jolt when he realized that the movement was a person. He leaned forward to ease his way over the fence and fell on the other side with a very loud "oooooof".

Momentarily stunned by the fall, but feeling no pain as the snow was deep and soft, he stood quickly and knocked his head into a tree above him, showering himself with snow and getting most of it down his neck with an icy shiver.

"Stop it!" The voice was strong and very angry. Oliver ducked his head and moved out into the yard to see where it came from. As he did he noticed the birds. It seemed like hundreds of them were flocking to about 50 bird feeders spread through the trees. They scattered at the sound of the voice but were slowly settling back down to eat.

A grey figure emerged from the trees on the far side of the yard and Oliver realized that this was the source of the voice. He recognized the face almost immediately, yet it didn't quite compute. It wasn't what he had expected at all.

Before him stood a woman, as tall as the sister Oliver had met only the day before. Her face and her sisters were almost identical except for one very striking thing. C...Anna was thin, very thin. And her gray hair was in one long, long braid down her back. Her skin was grey, her jacket was grey, her pants, her boots. Everything about her from top to bottom was grey, except her blue eyes.

She carried a large bucket in her hand, filled with bird seed and she stood before Oliver with a stormy look on her face, ready to let him have it.

"I'm Oliver." He stammered before she could berate him. Confusion clouded her face.

"Oliver?" She questioned in a whisper.

"Oliver." He stated and crookedly smiled.

The anger left her face and what was left was...indifference. "Ah, Oliver. Yes, I see." She sighed and turned back to the trees. "Let me finish," she said.

Oliver stepped more into the yard as she scooped out the bird seed and finished filling the remaining feeders along the path, hanging from the trees. She motioned him toward the back steps where she sat down on a step and Oliver sat on one lower than her.

Staring straight ahead she began to speak."You've broken my day Oliver."

He looked up at her ashamed for having disturbed her but noticed absolutely no shadow of emotion on her face as she stared forward. Then she told him about how she had loved a man in college, who was her first. How he told her that he had only slept with her that night because he knew he could. She spoke of how she spent weeks buying the sleeping pills at several different drug stores so that no one would get suspicious. She had done it because she felt as if she would never feel anything as beautiful as the feeling she had has when she was with him that night. "Even though for him it was only physical, for me it was something that I didn't know that I could ever feel."

Oliver leaned forward and opened his mouth to say something but was cut short when she said "You'll have more questions about me. I can't answer them, you understand? My sister can. You've met her' Of course, that's why you're here. I'll tell her that you have questions for her. No, I'll ask her to answer them for you. That's right, isn't it? Asking her and not telling her? That's more polite? Kinder? You should go now Oliver. You've broken my day and I must make it whole. I have to fix my broken day."