Authors: Dennis Larsen
on nylon with each advancing step.
“Well I’ll be, lookie here, you
must be Ms. Delaney all the way from
Arizona,” she said, extending her warm
little hand, taking Blanche’s in a
wrestler’s grip and pumping it up and
down. “If you aren’t the prettiest little
thing I’ve seen in some time. Men back
home must be havin’ fits, losin’ one of the
good en’s.”
It didn’t take Blanche long to
recognize that the picture from the paper
must have been at least 15 years and 50
lbs ago but she couldn’t help but like
Beverly.
Ms. Beverly Davis, formerly Mrs.
Beverly Davis Newton Marshall, had
married her high school sweetheart, then
18, resulting in two children now grown
and on their own, both living in Atlanta or
“Hotlanta” as they liked to tell her. A few
years back, in an effort to reduce and
simplify her life, she had dropped the
Newton and Marshall from her name and
went back to her maiden name, Davis.
Beverly had never been much of the
motherly type, and really not much of the
‘loving wife type’ either. Thus her first
marriage ended in a mutual parting of the
way with no money, assets or property to
dispute. Both sides were quite sure they
didn’t want exclusive custody so joint
custody was easily negotiated and the next
13 years were spent bouncing the kids
back and forth a few weeks at a time.
Beverly had tried her hand at
marriage a second time a few years back.
Married a wealthy landowner from
Charleston, with a love of bacon and all
things deep-fried, that suffered a massive
heart attack two years into the marriage
resulting in his death. The past eight years
had been spent fighting his estranged son
over the estate, and just recently had
signed the final documents entitling her to
50% of the assets after the complete
liquidation of the estate. Her lawyer
estimated this would come to a cool 36
million once the legal firm got their cut.
She had started this journey an
attractive
businesswoman,
eager
to
advance her position and anxious to help
the buyers who trusted her expertise. Her
journey, now ten years after her second
marriage, much heavier, cynical and
untrusting of people in general but still
eager to please and she put on a good
show. It didn’t take long for Blanche to
learn all this and more about Ms. Davis as
they cruised the streets of Valdosta
looking over the neighborhoods and condo
complexes.
By the end of the two hours
Blanche was no closer to being a
homeowner than she was prior to their
meeting, but she had forged almost an
instant bond with a woman who was
funny, insightful and as her dad would
have said, “full of piss and vinegar.”
Beverly pulled her BMW coupe in front of
the library, dug through her purse for a
business card, extracted one and handed it
to her client.
“I’ll do some searching and let you
know what I find. I think I have a pretty
good idea of what you want and need. I
have to tell you though, I had the best time
today and I’m not just saying that. Didn’t
know the gals from the Wild West were so
fun.”
“I’ll take that as a complement,”
Blanche said, offering her hand in a warm
embrace while exiting the car.
“So should I just wait to hear from
you or what?”
“I think we should get together
again in the next few days, if not to look at
condo’s, I’d like to trash talk men again
for a few hours,” Beverly said, with a
laugh that made her jiggle all over.
“Sounds good Beverly, I’ll wait
for your call.”
Beverly didn’t pull away from the
curb until she saw Blanche enter the
building. “Now that woman has got a nice
can,” she said, as she thumbed through her
Day-Timer looking for what she might do
to fill the balance of her day. “Nothing for
a couple hours, Dunkin Donuts here we
come,” she thought, cranking up the tunes
and engaging the autopilot in her head that
knew exactly how to get to the closest
donut shop.
Working in a library requires a
certain skill set that only few possess and
even fewer excel at, Blanche was one of
the latter. There were hours of mind
numbing boredom followed by intermittent
periods of hustle requiring organizational
skills and the ability to compartmentalize
the tasks at hand. The trick was being able
to juggle the two components without
losing your mind. Keeping your mind
active and alert was the secret and
Blanche was a professional at this game.
She knew that when it got boring the
tendency was to become complacent, lazy
and unsatisfied with the work and the job.
She had a theory, ‘that’s why
librarians are supposed to be bitter, sour
faced old-maids with nothing better to do
than hush patrons and shelve books.’
Blanche on the other hand was determined
to break out of the stereotype and avoid
being cast in that lot. On days that were
busy she sorted the work that needed to be
done into various slots in her mind then in
baskets that she fashioned out of
shoeboxes she’d scrounged from the B&B.
It kind of worked like a triage
center in a hospital, at times even
picturing herself on the front lines of a
M*A*S*H unit whisking patients from the
choppers to the waiting area, surgical tent
or morgue as the circumstances dictated.
Books, video tapes and CD’s were
certainly no match for blood and guts but
in her mind's eye to maintain her sanity
she played out these little comparisons
throughout the day. Items that required her
immediate attention were put into a basket
labeled ‘Now’, those that could wait until
later in the day were in ‘Night’, and those
that were saved for the mind-numbing
days were in ‘Never’.
Mrs. Anderson didn’t wholly
appreciate the system and did not sign on
to participate but she could see that it
worked for Blanche so she let her do her
own thing as long as the work was getting
done and the library ran efficiently. Ester
was impressed with the devotion that her
new helper brought to the job and enjoyed
the time she could now dedicate to the
regional museum.
Arriving at noon the library had
already been open for a few hours and
there were people scattered about the
library, some reading, some dozing and
others having quiet conversations over
tables or with chairs pulled close together
in out of the way places. Blanche
generally liked to take a look around to
see who was where and what was going
on before she set herself to completing the
desk related items that demanded her
attention. She could tell this was going to
be a ‘pull out the Never box’ kind of day
so she quickly took care of the few items
that were pressing and reached for the
‘Never’ box.
“Nope,” she thought, “don’t have
the stamina to even look at this stuff right
now.” Blanche pushed the box back into
its place, hopped down from her chair and
made one more swing through the library
looking for rule breakers, which weren't
unusual. After all, she’d worked in some
pretty big libraries in very large urban
centers and just when she thought she had
seen it all someone or something else
would surprise her. Finding ‘things’ in
books were commonplace and they ranged
anywhere from graffiti in the margins to
porn pictures put into children’s books, to
marijuana cigarettes crushed between the
pages of a literary masterpiece. Every
book that came into the library now had to
be thumbed through to find such nuisances.
It hadn’t always been this way but
she could see the respect for things she
held so dear being devalued and
diminished. In the bigger centers the
libraries had to install security cameras in
an attempt to discourage some of the
behavior that was becoming all too
common. With the advent and rise in the
use of the Internet, libraries had been
forced to install computers for research
purposes and as a service to the public.
Most used them with decency and respect
but there will always be some that want to
ruin a good thing for everyone. Keeping
pornography and viruses cleaned from the
systems was almost a full time job,
however, in Valdosta Blanche had not run
into such a problem, at least not yet.
In her last position on the campus
of a university known for its hard partying,
Blanche had been more than a little
shocked to see students engaged in sexual
acts right in the library or on the internet
with their webcams rolling. She was
happy to put such behavior behind her and
her experience in this Southern library had
proven to be a piece of cake in
comparison. That was not to say that she
was any less determined to remain
vigilant. The final thing, which she found
to be perhaps the most disgusting, was the
inability for some to make it to the
washrooms to relieve their bodily
functions. She wasn’t sure if it was lack of
control or just the odds that there are
opportunistic weirdoes out there that will
try at every turn to get their jollies in one
way or the other.
Satisfied that there was nothing
going on but a little handy-holdy
throughout the library she negotiated the
large, heavily laden shelves and arrived at
the bathrooms for a quick inspection.
Stepping into the ladies room she was
greeted with the appearance of a man in
coveralls kneeling on the floor looking
under one of the stall doors. He didn’t
appear to be doing anything other than
cranking his neck to get a better view.
“Hmmm,” pretending to clear her
throat, “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, could you? Would you
hand me a flashlight?” the little character
said, without moving from his position on
the floor.
“I most certainly will not!” she
said, with a rising tone in her voice.
“Why not, it’s right over there in
my box by the wall.”
“Excuse me, is there anyone in that
stall?” she inquired.
“Heavens no, I’m just here all by
my lonesome but I could sure use that
flashlight,” he indicated again pointing to
the box.
“Do you mind telling me just what
the hell it is you’re doing in here? This is
the ladies restroom after all.” She could
feel her cheeks turning redder by the
minute.
“You show me yours and I’ll show
you mine,” he snickered and paused
before saying, “Just joking you. I’m
Marcus the custodian round here, and you
are?”
“I’m Blanche, that is, Blanche
Delaney, I’m the new librarian.”
“Oh, I heard we was getting
someone new, pleased to meet you. Would
love to see you face to face and shake
your hand but I got to take care of this
before I get up.”
“Just what is it you’re doing in
here?” she questioned.
“Well, you see, there was a report
of an increase in water bugs and roaches
in this here bathroom and I think I found
the nest but I can’t quite be sure, too
dark.”
Blanche was already moving to the
toolbox in search of the flashlight as soon
as she heard the word ‘roaches’.
“Here it is," handing it over his
shoulder and placing it into his hand.
“Thanks, yup sure enough, there it
is, little buggers been going in and out
right there,” he exclaimed, clicking the
flashlight off and getting to his feet.
Mr. Marcus was a tiny little guy.
He must not have been much bigger than