Prime

Final Gift (5 of 5)

Another month goes by, books read, meals eaten. Paul and I even take a car out to Great Falls and go hiking. I've avoided them, after our last conversation. They have respected my distance. Confusion wracked my brain as I tried to figure out why I said what I did. Paul, predictably, was miserable about it.

"So you would go?"

"I don't know. I don't know why I asked." I watched the trees go by, the wind flooding the car.

"How long has it been - four months? Five months? And you're ready to throw in the towel?" Paul gripped the wheel, his knuckles white.

"It's not giving up - is it? It's more like, joining in. What do we have going for us now? A life of leisure, being cared for like...animals. Or children, unable to keep up."

"I'm no one's dog."

"I didn't call you a dog. But what are we doing here?"

The hike was awesome, if a little quiet.

A few days later, I was back in the LOC, shuffling through some books from the twentieth century. Footsteps sounded near me, and my breathing became shallow. The body that I've come to think of as the head librarian stopped several feet away.

"We have a gift."

My skin prickled.

"What kind of gift?"

I swear they almost smiled.

"One that can only be enjoyed by you, in a very singular way."

They lead me to another reading room, smaller, more private. There was a box on the table inside. They turned and faced me squarely.

"You asked if we made art. And we do. But we are also finishing art left undone, started one hundred years ago."

I blinked. Where were they going with this?

"There is a book, many books, in a collection that were meant to be read by no one. Until now.

"In this box, is the first of these books. There is only one person left who can read it as intended - a singular human, with private thoughts of their own, with the memories of only your own life, in your own body."

And it became clear to me: I would be part of their art now, but also connecting to the art of long ago, helping someone long gone finish their work.

"And if you decide, after reading it, that you would be willing to share your experience with us, we would be happy to have you."

"And Paul?"

"That would be his decision to make."

My hand hovered over the box, grasped it, felt the full weight of the book inside. The lid lifted off easily; the title made me gasp.

I thought back to the painting, sat down, and began to read.