The Library

I stand by the window, watching him through the sheer curtains. He comes and goes every day, yet, I'm still fascinated by him. He steps out of his truck and starts down the long, gravel driveway. He gazes around my property, looking for panels or windows needing improvement. His black cargo pants and light blue v-neck hug his body in all the right places, showing off his lean torso and muscles. His long brown hair lifted upward by the breeze.

He begins walking nearer and nearer my window. I quickly leave the window and head to the library, hoping I wasn't seen. Peering through a window in the library, I watch as he takes a screwdriver from his belt and begins to fiddle with a flower box. How does he do it? Every morning he leaves his house. How? Does he not feel the anxiety I do? Or is he stronger than me? Is he fighting through it while I cower in my safe house? 

I hear a deafening noise. Thud, thud. It sounds like the knockers on the front door. I peer out the window and see that he's left the flower box. My heart beats faster in my chest. My breathing gets heavier. I can't move. 

Slowly, I pick up my right foot and place it down further in front of me. I do the same with my left. I continue this awkward dance-walk to the front hallway. I peek around the corner and see him standing at the door, waiting for me to open it. It's been so long since I've answered the door. Two-three years. I force my legs to carry me to the door. My hand reaches for the lock. I hesitate for a few seconds, then unlock the door. I feel like I might puke. I open the door, and I do. 

"Woah! O-okay. Um, here," he says and places his hand on my arm. He leads me over to the kitchen and positions me in front of the sink. As my breakfast leaves me, he holds my hair back. When I finish, he leads me over to the couch and sits beside me.

"Are you okay? Should I call a doctor?" he asks politely. I don't answer back immediately. I can't speak to him. I can't even look at him. I feel violated, yet, comforted at the same time. I want him to leave, but I want him to stay and never leave me alone in this house again. Slowly, I look up at him. His green eyes stare back at me.

"No, I'll be fine. It's just been a while since I've had a visitor," I reply with a gravelly voice. I used to talk to myself or sing so my voice didn't leave me from not conversing with people often.

"Okay. So, you were nervous?" I nod. "You don't get out much, do you?" My cheeks blush and I gaze down at the floor, embarrassed. "It's okay. Really. How long has it been?"

"Four years, I think." His eyes grow wider in surprise. 

"Four years. Wow. If you don't mind me asking, why?"

"It's too much. All the people everywhere and the noise. I-I can't take it. This place used to be rural, but when they started the construction, people started to move in and it got so busy and loud."

"That's true, but that doesn't mean you can't go out. There are still some quiet places you can go if the noise bothers you that much. What have you been doing for four years? Haven't you been bored?"

"I read," I say and motion for him to follow me as I walk toward the library. When he walks through the wooden double doors, he gasps. "I know. Isn't it lovely?"

He runs his hands along the books and rolls the ladders side to side slightly. "It's beautiful," he says softly. He turns back towards me, "I know a place you'd love to go."

"I don't know-"

"It's quiet and people hardly ever go there. I promise," he insists.

"Fine. We can go, but I don't know how I'll do out there." He nods and motions towards my outfit. I'll need to change if I'm going out. I walk up the staircase and into my room. Most of my proper clothing has dust on it now. I reach in and pick out a black turtleneck and a skirt. I walk back down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I know your name. I'm Catherine," I introduce myself.

"Jack. Nice to meet you Ms.Catherine. Let me just fix this," he says, reaching towards my face. I feel the clip in my hair release. My dark locks float down onto my shoulders. He grins and takes my hand. The closer we get to the door, the faster my heart beats. But I make it through. He leads me to his truck and opens my door for me to get inside. I find it surprising clean and well kept.He slides into the driver's seat and starts the car. 

"Where are we going?" I ask, still unaware of our destination.

"It's a secret Ms.Catherine," he replies.

"Catherine is fine with me, Jack."

Forty minutes later, we arrive at a circular shaped building. Jack leads me inside and I can't believe what I see. The walls are lined with books and there are at least three floors. It is the biggest and grandest library I've ever seen. 

"Come with me," says Jack, and I follow. He stops at a set of double doors. He opens it slightly and peers inside. "Okay. Be quiet, come on." The room we enter has more walls lined with books but the only other thing in the room is a velvet sofa. I walk over to it and run my hand across the fabric. 

"This library is about two years old but it holds the history of the entire town. Generations and generations of books are kept here. That's how I learned about your mansion. I've worked on some bigger houses but never any as big as yours. As soon as I saw the pictures, I knew I wanted to work there."

Jack walks towards a bookshelf and picks up a book titled: Frankenstein. The classic Mary Shelley version as well. He sits down beside me and opens it up. He begins reading. 

"Letter one. To Mrs. Saville of England. You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise you have regarded with such..."

I lean back into the sofa and listen to Jack's deep voice reading the letters of R. Walton. I gaze at his beautiful features as he reads. We sit like this for seems like hours until Jack closes the book and leans forward. 

"It's seven o'clock. I better get you home, Catherine." I nod and we leave, hand in hand and ride back to my house. He drops me off at my doorstep. 

"I had a wonderful day, Jack. Thank you so much. You have no idea what today has meant to me. Thank you," I say. Jack moves slightly closer to me.

"I agree. I had a great time as well. I've never met someone as kind and beautiful as you Catherine. And to think, I was just coming to fix the molding above your door. Maybe we should do this again some time?"

I smile and say, "I think that's a brilliant idea, Jack." I say laughing.

"Yes, that sounds terrific!" he says and kisses me softly on the cheek. He walks back toward his truck and smiles back at me before departing.

I smile, open the door, and wait for tomorrow gleefully.

Author's Note

Not entirely sure how I feel about this one.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is a spectacular way to show people what agoraphobia looks & feels like. This is so realistic & I saw quite a bit of myself in this. (Even tho I'm not agoraphobic, I hate the noise of bustling people & cars, etc. -- need my wilderness solitude to stay on an even keel). The tenderness of this story is vey well done & conveys the touching sincerity of the guy. I can feel the authentic transformation that the lady is going thru, due to the gentle caring nature of the guy. I definitely love the way you show us this transformation, but I'm not buying the final remarks about "the rest of our lives" . . . that's too much of a stretch for this lady in this situation, even if the guy is mind-blowing in his gentleness. I think the final scene should be more awkward & hesitant to feel realistic to the rest of your story. This is very inspiring & makes me want to do something like this, the way you've offered a poster child for SHOW don't tell!

[Quinn W]

Thank you so much! The only reason I was able to write about it was because I deal with anxiety about leaving my house a lot. I was a little worried that the ending was too cliche and unlike the rest of the story. Thank you for the advice, I'll edit it later.