“What is wrong with people?” I was checking returned books in, flipping through them looking for damage.
“What are you whining about now?” The voice came from the
opposite corner of our small library. I couldn’t see her, but I knew it was
Jackie. She was a regular, doing research for her next book.
“Ketchup and mustard!” I yelled.
“People are pigs,” she responded. We were the only two in
the library. It was a Tuesday evening. We closed in an hour and I didn’t expect
a crowd this late, especially with a November snowstorm starting. Jackie and I
would hop in our Jeeps and get home just fine, but most people wouldn’t venture
to the library in this weather, this late.
To my surprise, the front door opened. I didn’t recognize
him. He was a typical northwoodsman. The hiking boots, flannel shirt, canvas
coat, and beard would have been perfect for our town’s tourist brochure. He
walked straight to me.
“Hi. What can I help you with?” I asked.
“Where is the gay porn section?”
I looked down at the ketchup and mustard stains, silently
counting to ten. I got all the way to four.
“Well?” he asked, louder than before.
“Sir, we don’t have a gay porn section. Is there a
particular title you have in mind?”
He reached into his shirt pocket and removed a folded sheet
of paper. He threw it on my desk. “Gender Queer. The book in this blog post.”
I unfolded the piece of paper and read a post he printed
from one of our local bloggers. NorthwoodsPatriot did not think taxpayers
should fund public libraries and the LGBTQ books were his latest salvos against
our little public library. I turned to my computer and typed; certain I already
knew the answer.
“The book is currently checked out. Would you like me to put
it on hold for you?” I asked.
“You think you’re funny, pansy? I don’t read that kind of
filth. That’s for fags like you. Who ever heard of a male librarian?”
I stared at him, temporarily speechless. To my left, I saw
Jackie’s head poking around the stacks, trying to get a look at the unfolding
drama.
“Sir, I think you should leave.”
He slowly reached under his jacket and pulled out a gun. It
was a nice one, a Glock 17.
“Sir, put the gun back in the holster and leave,” I said,
calmly as I could. I moved my right hand under my desk.
“Hands!” he shouted, “I need to see them.” I moved my hand
back to the top of my desk.
“I don’t think I will leave. It’s time someone put a stop to
you groomers,” he said.
Jackie walked over and stood in front of my desk, between me
and the guy with the gun.
“What do you think you’re doing? You going to protect this
scumbag?” he asked.
Jackie didn’t say anything. She slapped the man and had his
Glock in her hand, pointed at his head. It happened so fast you would have
thought she had the gun the whole time. He stumbled but didn’t fall. He looked
at her, dumbfounded. I smiled.
“Our librarian must be diplomatic, representing the library
and all. I don’t have that restriction. I’d just as soon shoot you, so if you
want to make a move feel free,” Jackie said.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked her.
“That’s Jackie. She was in the Army, a Ranger,” I told him.
“I didn’t know they let girls be Rangers,” he responded.
“The world has changed. You need to get with the program,”
Jackie said.
The man sat down on the floor. He looked up at her. “I can’t
keep up with this world. Why do think I’m here? My job went to Mexico. Gays,
trans, colored people in Washington, male librarians… I don’t know what is
happening and I’m scared and I’m pissed off. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
I have to stop it somehow”
Jackie lowered the gun. It was pointed at him, but not
directly at his head. She would still take a knee out if he did something
stupid, but she saw he was not as hostile as just minutes before. All the fight
seemed to be out of him.
“This male librarian, the guy you called a pansy, was in the
Army too. He used to fly Blackhawk helicopters. Pilots like him gave me a ride
to my patrol area and picked me up too, all while being shot at,” she said.
He looked at me. I don’t know if he thought differently
about me; he said nothing. Maybe.
“Did you press the button?” Jackie asked me.
“I did. You know it could take the sheriff a half hour or
more to get here,” I responded.
“I know. Mister, let’s just sit here and wait for the
sheriff. You want some coffee? Water?”
“Thanks, but no,” he said. And so we sat.
*****
This story was featured in the Writers Anonymous anthology Walking the Plank Naked & Other Works, available on Amazon and other retailers.
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