>> fiction >> nsync >> turning of the pages >>
She was already sitting there when he entered, moving quickly towards the back of the building. Her eyes never lifted from the page, just listened closely. She could pick out that walk anywhere. It wasn’t that hard, considering that she had heard it almost as long as she had been going there. The same slightly jaunty step, with the heels hitting the ground first, a lot louder than the toes. The carpet managed to muffle it some, but that was the only way she knew it, listening to it on the same generic gray carpet.
It was another tradition that both of them lived by. Nothing special, really. At four in the afternoon, she would arrive at the library, picking a rather thick horror novel or classic off of the shelf. She would sit down at the third table, every time, and move her chair to face the table to the right of her, long legs pushed out into the walkway. After losing herself in the book, forty five minutes later, he would enter the library. Head to the back, where the suspense section was, and pick a thick novel. Then, he would walk to the table beside her, the one on the right. His legs would fill up the other half of the walkway, the toes of their shoes just barely touching.
Never once had they spoken a word to each other. They hadn’t even really looked at each other before, other than when the other person wasn’t looking. What was the point? They didn’t go to the same school, they didn’t live in the same neighborhood. It was just a matter of tradition, nothing more. Sit a different tables, let their feet touch lightly, and read, while enjoying each other’s company.
It had been a long time ago that the tradition had started. Back then, she was still reading Nancy Drew. He was still reading The Hardy Boys. Both of them threw in an occasional “Choose Your Own Adventure”, the pages always turning back and forth quickly. From then, they moved onto the usual pre-teen thin novels, until now, where they were reading thick novels, and William Shakespeare. Something new every day. Never once had they actually checked a book out. That would mean that they would have no reason to come to the library every Thursday to sit there, and let their feet touch. When one of them were sick, the other knew instantly. Sitting there, alone, didn’t seem the same, and having someone else sit in the other person’s chair...that was almost criminal.
So, now, he moved to his table, already reading his novel. She didn’t bother to look up as he sat down, but let a small smile filter onto her face, which he just barely noticed. Slowly, he sunk into his seat, turning it towards her. His feet extended into the free area, and his foot brushed hers, leaning against it slightly.
She knew him quite well from those few years that they had spent together, though they never uttered a word. She knew that he would be so lost in his book, so wrapped up in the story, that he wouldn’t notice if she looked at him. It almost felt like she was breaking the rules, some sort of unspoken thing between them. Her eyes raised from the page, and from under her eye lashes, she watched him. This was the first time that she allowed herself that one guilty pleasure, and it was definitely pleasing.
Sparkling eyes rushed back and forth over the text, moving rapidly. They moved from side to side as quickly as possible, drinking in the words. Long lashes, luxurious in thickness and gorgeous in color, brushed his skin delicately, never closing long enough to allow a break in reading. Slightly tanned skin, soft hair that fell in a shock over his forehead, gleaming under the overhead light. It looked soft enough, wonderful enough for her to touch, though she would never try it. His mouth moved in an enticing little pout, sometimes smiling and on occasion, grinning at whatever he was reading.
This was her reading partner. The one that every Thursday, rain or shine, showed up just so that they could touch feet and find comfort in each other. That was all.
Why wasn’t he out with friends? Why wasn’t he taking a girl out to a movie and dinner, trying to sneak a kiss before her curfew was over and she had to go back in. She had no clue why he would sit with her, week after week, when he could be doing something far more enjoyable.
She didn’t know that he considered her a friend. Maybe they never had a conversation, maybe they never looked at each other. Is that a friend really was? Why couldn’t it just be a person that was there for someone, nothing more, nothing less. Just someone who was there, almost like a living, breathing rock to lean against. Or touch feet with. She didn’t know how he actually thought of her.
There wasn’t a Thursday when he didn’t hurry from school, practically running home. As soon as he did that, he had to do his chores as fast as possible, before he was allowed to leave, his library card tucked in his back pocket. Not that he ever pulled it out and used it on a Thursday. There was no point in that. Maybe on Sunday, when he knew that she wasn’t going to be there. Only because it would seem like a sin to bring it out in front of her and check out whatever book he was reading. He was sure that she did the same, but wouldn’t dare to ask. He was scared that maybe talking would ruin the friendship that they had together.
He had never looked at her before. Never even thought of it. He already knew what she looked like. He knew what color hair she had, that she was thin, that she had long legs. Other than that, nothing. He never wanted anything else before. Now, when he was sure that she would be lost in her book, he took the chance to look up and stare at her, his eyes making paths down her face to try and memorize it. Just in case he never got a chance to see it again, he told himself. But wasn’t that the whole reason that someone would do something like that?
Long hair was the first thing that he saw. It pooled over her shoulders, running halfway down her back. It was such a gorgeous shade, highlights catching the light above. It looked incredibly soft, ready to be touched by a loving hand. The one thing that he had never noticed before was a braid by the side of her head. It wasn’t really thick, but definitely not thin. It was tied with a colorful group of strings, like a rainbow. Her eyes, a color that he had never seen on a person before and covered by reading glasses, ran over the page as quick as she could manage, before her thin fingers moved to turn the page again. Her mouth, as perfect as possible, was in the same pout that his was in whenever he read. It matched her perfectly.
Why wasn’t she out with friends? Why wasn’t she being taken to a movie and dinner, trying to sneak away from a kiss before her curfew was over and she had to go back in. He had no clue why she would sit with him, week after week, when she could be doing something far more enjoyable. It was just another one of life’s many mysteries to him, one that he would probably never discover.
Neither of them would break the tradition. There was no point. They had never done anything else on Thursdays. Even their closest friends didn’t know where they went, what they did, who they were with. Both parties thought that their friends were meeting with someone with the opposite sex, which was true enough. It just wasn’t a date, unless you considered sitting in a deathly quiet building, turning a page, and being watched carefully and shrewdly by the cranky eighty year old woman that manned the check out desk. Even she was used to seeing them together.
Everyone always speculated about them, whether or not they were brother and sister, boyfriend and girlfriend, or complete strangers.
They were nothing but reading partners, and friends.
It had been many years since she had been back, almost too many to count. How long ago had it been that she had to move away, leaving behind her library, but most importantly, her seat at her table, and the person that always sat across from her. She had grown up, finished her post secondary education, and had a high paying job. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to come back, and this was the first chance she had.
Surprisingly, it was a Thursday. Or maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all.
Pushing open the door, she couldn’t help walking towards the suspense section, and she stopped there for a long time, running her fingers over the spines of the books. A lot of them had changed, but there were a few of the older ones that she had read when she was much younger pushed in between. They were almost like forgotten relics of years past.
She didn’t linger there long, because she quickly made her way to the children/pre-teen section, which had been combined since the last time that she was there. Probably to free up more room, she told herself, smiling when she found a copy of a Nancy Drew novel that she had loved as a child. But there was still something wrong. Something that she couldn’t explain, and soon, she knew what it was.
All of her life, there had been an impossible piece of her hair that always fell in front of her face when she was reading. Now, she kept it hidden with bobby pins in the office, but for the moment, she dug into her pocket and pulled out a rubber band and pieces of embroidery floss, usually used for friendship bracelets. She braided that chunk of her long hair and fastened it with the rubber band before wrapping the strands around it and tying it. The long tails of different colors looked out of place with her black blazer and pants, white silk blouse, but it was just another reminder of her childhood.
Her high heeled boots made little sound as she walked over the same generic gray carpet, faltering at the sight of the tables. It seemed that, for some unknown reason, two tables were open. Right in the center, the same one that she used to sit at. Her heart stopped pounding for a moment when she saw that no one was sitting there, that the seat was empty. No one sitting there, chair turned towards her table, feet sticking out.
A sigh came from her chest as she walked to her table. It was second nature to turn her seat, sitting down with her feet out in the way. Hoping against all hope, she looked at her watch and smiled. It was only quarter past four in the afternoon, meaning that she had been right on time. A half hour until she would find out if someone, someone in particular, would be sitting across from her, letting his feet rest against hers. That’s all she wanted. Wasn’t that the whole reason that she had came back?
Before opening the cover of the book, she looked around the room. Even though she knew that the same librarian wouldn’t be at the check out desk, there was another eighty year old woman, or around that age, standing there. Glasses with the cords around her neck, curly white hair, staring shrewdly at her. Nodding her head and letting out her breath, she opened her book and started to read the first page.
When a half hour had passed, she was so engrossed in the tale, that she didn’t notice when he walked in, heading towards the suspense section. That wasn’t where he wanted to go. For some reason, the children/pre-teen section pulled him towards it, before he was standing in front of a shelf that he had been in front of a lot of his childhood. His hand went out and picked out a Hardy Boys novel, instantly walking over to where the tables were waiting. His eyes raised to his normal table, and looked at the one beside it.
It wasn’t possible. There was someone sitting there, a woman. Long legs, long hair, and...was it really what he thought it was? He nodded when he saw it again. A braid, not thick, but not thin, on the side of her head, long colored threads hanging from it. A rainbow. Gone were the corduroy pants that she used to wear, replaced by cotton pants. Of course, he wasn’t wearing what he used to wear, either, but then again, a lot of years had passed.
He remembered one Thursday in particular, when he had walked in there at his usual time, looking towards the table she sat at. It was empty, the first time in four months. He managed to make it through the afternoon, reading before he had to go home for dinner. The next Thursday, when he showed up, she still wasn’t there. Neither of them had ever been away for more than one week, so that was a little surprising to him. The next week, he had asked the librarian, wondering why she wasn’t there. She had moved away, he was told, and they weren’t expected back. But he never got a name.
Now, he moved towards his table, looking down at his feet as he did so. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, just in case it wasn’t her. But she had the braid, she was in the same position they had always been in. Still, there was that slim possibility that it wasn’t her, even if this was the same library that they had gone to all those years ago.
He sat down and stretched out his legs casually, allowing his feet to rest against hers. He opened the book and started to read, losing himself in the tale.
After she was finished, she closed her book with a sigh, a smile of remembrance spreading on her face. It was almost as if she were a child again, and she could almost feel the presence of the person that used to sit across from her, his feet touching hers. Her eyes closed, almost like she was afraid to look up. Her head raised, her eyes still closed. It would take a lot of strength, almost all that she had to see that it was just some jerk that was trying to hit on her.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, and felt her face flood with color. He was staring right back at her, the same eyes that she taken time to stare at before she left. The hair was different, shorter than before, but it was him. There was no mistaking that sparkle.
“You used to wear glasses,” he said softly, a smile staring to form on his face.
Her head shook, breaking away from his gaze before smiling hesitantly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
It was the exact voice that he had dreamed about after she left. It was deep and sensuous, a hint of an accent in it. What was it...British, maybe? He couldn’t really tell. “I said, you used to wear glasses. Reading glasses.”
Her mouth dropped open for a second before she grinned this time. “Yeah. I got contacts a few years ago.” Dipping her head, she looked back at him. “I didn’t think that you were going to be here. I figured that it was a slim chance that you would be here, like you used to be. Very, very slim.”
He couldn’t help laughing at that, and both of them looked over at the librarian afterwards, as if they were little kids being caught by their teacher. Noting her look, they stood up and headed over to the section they had gotten their books from and re-shelved them, before walking out of the building, staying quiet until they were back outside. “I didn’t think that you were going to be here. I told myself that I wasn’t going to come, because I didn’t want to be disappointed, but somehow, I ended up here. I don’t even remember how.”
“I know what you mean. One minute, I was standing in my hotel room, and the next, I was looking up at the front doors.” Her shoulders moved in a shrug as they started down the road, not even caring where they were headed. “You know what I never understood? Why you were there every Thursday, no matter what. Why would you want to spend your afternoons at the library reading?”
“Why would you?”
“I asked first.”
Smiling, he didn’t even notice when his hand came out and enveloped hers. Their fingers entwined as they continued walking, sneakers and heeled boots hitting side by side on the concrete. “I didn’t want to be anywhere else. There’s no real reason, I guess, but after awhile, my week wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t there with me on Thursday. My Friday would absolutely suck.”
She laughed, a beautiful sound. It was almost like hearing small bells ringing on a slight breeze. It was gorgeous. It was what he always wanted to hear. “Exactly. What are you, a mind reader?”
“I think we spent so much time together that we began to know each other. We didn’t have to speak, but we knew each other.” Her head nodded slowly. “You know what? I just realized that we don’t even know each other’s names. That’s strange. We spent so much of our lives together, we’re talking like two old best friends, which we are,” he smiled almost shyly at that, causing her to smile back, “and we don’t know each other’s names. How many times did I say ‘each other’?”
Laughing again, she looked over at him. “Five, if you count the time that you asked how many times you asked that...did that even make sense?”
Running his thumb against her finger, he looked at her seriously. “Perfect sense to me.”
“I feel like I’m answering a personal ad. My name is Faith. Faith Meridan.”
They stopped on the corner, not sure of where to go. There were so many possibilities, but what did they really want to do, besides smile at each other and ignore the rest of the world. “It’s a beautiful name for such a beautiful lady.”
Her head shook with a deep chuckle. “Cheesy lines will get you nowhere. You’ve already got me right where you want me. So, what’s your name?”
“Chris Kirkpatrick.” He rocked back on his heels for a moment. “I don’t want to leave you yet. I’m in town for quite awhile. Are you leaving anytime soon?”
She hesitated, looking at him closely, examining every feature of him. Every perfect feature. “I was, but I think I’m due for a little vacation, and I can change my plane ticket at the snap of my fingers.”
“Great. So...how would you like to go for a cup of coffee, Faith Meridan?”
She grinned brightly, leaning forward to place a slow, deliberate kiss on his cheek. There would be many more to come in their lives, because there was no way that they were going to let go of each other again. Every waking moment that was possible would be spent together, sometimes even when they were asleep and didn’t have the courage to let them go, lest they disappear in the morning.
“I’d love to. Lead the way, Chris Kirkpatrick.”
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