Authors: Karin Kallmaker
Tags: #Fiction, #Librarians, #General, #Romance, #Small Town Life, #Lesbian, #(v4.0), #Iowa City (Iowa)
One Degree of Separation
Copyright © 2003 by Karin Kallmaker
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or trans-mitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper First Edition
Editor: Christi Cassidy
Cover designer: Bonnie Liss (Phoenix Graphics)
who found my future in the card catalogs at Berkeley Main
Fourteen and Fortunately no longer a Felony
This book would not be possible—indeed, information would not be ours for the asking—if not for the passion of librarians in preserving our freedom to read.
My eternal gratitude goes to MJ Lowe for her generous, humorous
and tireless attempts to teach me the intricate necessities of library sciences
and the tantalizing mysteries of information arts.
Monday evening, June 2:
I will not damage the rude patrons or the annoying heterosexual
Trombone continues to throw up in my shoes. Professor Hill has chewed
up the crotch of yet another pair of panties. It’s been so long since anyone was
down there I’ve probably turned to liverwurst.
I’m never going to move up if I don’t get my M.L.S., so I’m going to get
my M.L.S. It’s not like it’ll cut much into my social life.
HER is still the only woman I want. As usual, I feel stupid and pathetic
for wanting HER.
Someone will die if my period doesn’t start tomorrow.
“We have to have lunch. Today.” Marian knew that cement tone in Ellie’s voice.
“But I don’t know more than what I said,” Marian protested. She took her mug of hot tea out of the microwave and set it down on the table in the break room.
“You may not realize what you know.”
“You sound like an interrogator. I don’t have time for lunch today. Bill’s out sick.” Marian wanted to kick herself. She ought to have known that Ellie would go into hyper-hunt mode the moment she found out.
“I thought Bill the Boor’s being out would make you happy. So celebrate by having lunch with me.”
Marian steadied herself with a deep breath. “When Jersey stopped in this morning, she said that Amy said the woman was getting a stack pass at the Psych Library. So she’ll be here for a while.”
“Yeah, but I want first shot at her. C’mon, Marian. Fresh meat in the summer? That never happens! You and I have a chance for once. You know that Jersey left the library and told at least five student dykes. Amy told five faculty dykes after she told Jersey, you
she did. And all of them told five dykes. By tonight every dyke in Iowa City is going to know.”
Though she spoke through gritted teeth, Marian thought she managed to sound almost normal. “Dinner. I can meet you for dinner.”
Clearly surprised, Ellie replied, “Well, okay. That’ll do, I guess. Where?”
“You decide. I can’t make decisions today.”
“Oh.” Ellie clicked her tongue against her teeth, a sound Marian found as annoying on the phone as she did in person. “I see. Amani’s?”
Amani’s chocolate cake was exactly what Marian needed. “At seven,” she confirmed. Eric wandered into the staff room and looked hopefully at the phone. “Break’s over. Gotta go.” Back at the reference desk, Marian surreptitiously unwrapped a Dove dark chocolate bite. On a day like today it was medicinal.
Besides, it was heart healthy and she had a link to the research study to prove it.
She had just finished savoring the last bitter aftertaste when a patron paused at the desk. She pushed the chocolate’s wrapper into the back pocket of her tailored khaki shorts and smiled pleasantly.
“May I help you locate a resource?”
The youth’s slouch and greasy hair was at odds with a shy smile.
“Could you help me, I guess, I want to please know how would I address a letter to the Queen. Of England. Please.” Books and covers, Marian thought. “We have several texts on etiquette, but a simple Web search might be fastest. Did you want just that question answered or are you interested in the topic of social etiquette with monarchs?”
“It’s for a school sociology project. My final.” Given the date, Marian thought he’d left his research a little late.
High schools were nearly out. “Then for thorough research I think you’ll want the text.”
Marian led the boy to an open terminal. “Have you used the public library system before?” The boy cleared his throat, but Marian didn’t know quite what to make of the noise that came out.
Now she recognized him. He worked afternoons at the Java House.
“No? Here’s the catalog browser and you can use the Internet browser as well. It’s of course free and there’s no enforced time limit. Starting tomorrow, new software will limit you to two hours of Internet access per day. Try a catalog search for etiquette and I think we’ll see some useful guides. Sorry about the mouse. Just click three times.” Tech Services was taking its time getting a new one.
Even though the day was not going well, the orderly precision of the Dewey Decimal System was comforting as always to Marian. She patiently explained how the cataloging system worked and led him to the nonfiction shelves.
“So all these books in this area could be helpful because they’re numbered the same?” The boy looked a bit like he’d found the Mother Lode. Marian was gratified to have been the one to have shown him the Dewey magic, but she was simultaneously peeved that he hadn’t been taught in school. As pleasant as teaching the system could be, it was not the be-all and end-all of her career choice.
“Precisely, and related subjects, like cultural standards, are adjacent. The very last Dewey entry, by the way, is the nine hundred ninety-nine series—extraterrestrial.”
She was very pleased he hadn’t grabbed the book she’d pointed out initially and bolted. “If you find your question hasn’t been completely answered, feel free to return to the reference desk. Good luck with your paper,” she concluded cheerily.
Safely back at the desk, Marian congratulated herself for not killing anyone so far.
“I can’t find the phone book I need.”
It was an effort, but Marian plastered a smile on her face. Over the patron’s shoulder she saw Eric, travel mug in hand, veer abruptly toward the magazines, leaving her to deal with the woman she privately thought of as the Lead Bitch from the Seventh Dimension of Bitch Universe. “How pleasant to see you again. What area were you looking for?”
Seventh Dimension Bitch tossed her fluffy blonde hair over her shoulder. There was something in the way she did it that made Marian absolutely certain that she should feel inadequate about her own short, dark, unremarkable hair. The woman had all the attitude of Trombone, but likely none of the purring. “Dallas, of course.”
“Of course,” Marian echoed. “I’m sorry, but the Iowa City Public Library no longer carries phone books for areas outside of the state. But you can use several different sources on the Internet. I’d be happy—”
“Never mind! You people never have what I want.” The departing flounce ruffled several papers onto the floor.
After tidying, Marian reached surreptitiously for another square of chocolate. Eric, the chickenshit, was back. Under her breath she said, “How long do you think it would take for someone to die from being repeatedly stapled?”
“It’s not worth it. I don’t want to visit you in jail.”
“But I look good in orange.”
“You look like a cadaver in orange.”
Marian became aware of the tinny treble from a pair of headphones, but no one in sight had a pair on. She’d have to hunt for the culprit.
A cell phone shrilled from the direction of adult nonfiction, sending razors up her spine. “I’m at the library, so I can’t talk long,” a man’s voice boomed.
“I’ll go,” Eric said.
“No, I got it. Days like today these cards save lives.” She slipped the cell-phone user the first card, which politely asked the patron to end the call or to step outside, and nodded pleasantly at the man’s annoyed face. Had he no clue at all that everyone in the vicinity could hear his opinion of last night’s date? She waited until he shuffled slowly toward the exit, then let her ears guide her toward the still audible static and bass of headphones.
The young woman read the card in surprise but mouthed an apology and turned the volume down sufficiently so that Marian could no longer hear anything.
Fair enough, Marian thought. She gave the patron a thumbs-up and went back to the desk. She had another hour of desk time before she could retire to the shared workspace in the back to review new acquisitions. No one had had to be gutted and grilled. It was a relief.
Eric wasn’t there, but Seventh Dimension Bitch was.
It took a very deep breath to find even a businesslike smile. She dealt with the next series of statements about the library system’s inadequacies without losing her cool, though she felt like a cartoon character with steam coming out of her ears.
Please, she thought, let my period start now. Or someone is going to die.
Eric had moved all the staplers to his end of the desk.
“I want to know absolutely everything Jersey said.” Ellie wasted no time taking a long sip from the Manhattan she’d ordered.
Marian squinted at the menu, looking for something light as preparation to diving face first into the Chocolate Thunder cake.
“Why can’t you call Jersey yourself? It’s not like you don’t have her number.”
“Jersey isn’t reliable on the details, you know that.”
“I think she is. It’s Sandy who said Jersey couldn’t remember the right name during, but I don’t see how that affects her recall when she’s out of bed.”
“When it comes to fresh meat in the dating market, I need accu-racy, that’s all. I tried Amy, but she wasn’t home. Besides ...” Ellie sighed. “Jersey has been looking too good to me lately, and she’s with Terry. I shouldn’t flirt with her as much as I do.” Marian looked over the menu in alarm. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
“What? Sleep with Jersey?”
“Yeah. That would be just ...
“Frankly, my dear, it can be kind of kinky to think about. It’s not like Sandy spilled the whole Jersey story, but I do know a bit about what she’s like.”
“You could really be with an ex’s ex?”
Ellie stirred her Manhattan. “In this town how can you avoid it? Well,
avoid it by not dating at all.”
“Next thing you know you’ll tell me you’ve slept with both women in a couple.”
Ellie got her you-have-no-idea-the-things-I’ve-done smirk. “I have the sense at least not to tell.”
“Not saying. But believe me, about now I’m desperate enough to do it again.”
“Forget I said that.” Ellie did not look in the least bit remorseful.
“You’ll get a reputation.”
“Your inner prude is showing. I already have a reputation.” Marian wasn’t fooled by Ellie’s nonchalant air. “You and I are the only single women over thirty-five in this town. That is, besides Sandy, and she’s my ex now even if we’re still living together. So why should I forego the willing but perhaps entangled ones?” It’s not right, Marian wanted to say. Yes, Inner Prude was clear about that. Inner Historian, keeper of the Iowa City dance card, wanted to know who. Inner Slut wanted to know if it had been good.
“Maybe I’m not meant to live in the modern era.”
“Maybe you need to put sex into perspective. It doesn’t have to be the ultimate exercise of love. Love doesn’t even have to enter into the picture.”
“But shouldn’t it?”
“Only in a Hallmark card. What has a desire for monogamy done for either of us? I date too much and you don’t date at all.” Ellie yanked at the front of her blouse. “I think I’ve gained weight. Great. Just great.”