Page 3 of Love in the Stacks
“Well, sorry to bother you, but I’m working on a paper and the teacher is really strict about citations. Can you look at my reference list to see if they’re right?”
“It’s not a bother at all! Let’s take a look.” I follow her back to her computer. While I do scan her reference list as she asked, I also have her open the webpage for the library’s citation guide, showing her how to match up the type of source she’s citing with the template examples on the page.
After finishing up with this student and resuming my walk (after notating the reference question on the tracking log, of course), I’m stopped again by another student. The three hours pass quickly. Before I know it, I’m heading back downstairs for my lunch break, thinking ahead to the staff meeting that afternoon where I’ll finally bring up my graphic novel idea.
Chapter two
Adam
An internet trend a while back had women asking their male partners how often they think about the Roman Empire and finding out it was often, like multiple times a day often. My Roman Empire is, well, the Roman Empire for sure, but also Nicole Delaney. I groan, thinking of this morning in the break room. Does she really not even know my name?
The first time I saw Nicole was over a year ago when she came to Parker Library for her on-campus interview. The library director, Herb Wallen, brought her around and introduced her to everyone on staff—about ten of us total between librarians and support staff, not including student workers. I was focused on my computer screen when a knock on my open office door had me looking up, my eyes catching on the muted red color of long, straight hair first, andthen the bright pink floral blouse peeking out from under a dark gray blazer. In the doorway, my boss cleared his throat.
“Adam, sorry to interrupt, but I’d like you to meet Nicole Delaney. She’s one of our final candidates for the open reference and instruction librarian position. Nicole, this is Adam Burgess, our cataloging librarian. He’s been with Parker Library for about a year now.”
Nicole gave me a little wave, the smile stretching across her face brightly. “Hi, Adam! Nice to meet you.”
Swallowing to moisten my suddenly dry throat, I stuttered out, “Likewise.” I adjusted the frames of my glasses in an effort to do something with my hands other than awkwardly mimic her cute wave.
Nicole looked at me as if she expected me to say something else, and when I didn’t, she smiled again and said, “Hopefully we’ll be working together soon.”
“Yeah,” I managed to croak before Herb led her away down the hall. Though I hadn’t planned to attend, I ended up lurking in the back row for the presentation that was part of Nicole’s interview later that afternoon. All library staff were invited to attend, though only the official search committee members were allowed to ask questions and provide feedback after the fact.
She had been asked to present ideas to help first-year undergraduates engage with the library. Through the twenty minutes it took her to share her ideas, she radiated an energy I had never felt before. Optimistic. Passionate. Confident. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Though physically small, Nicole filled the roomup completely. She scanned the audience as she talked, and we made eye contact several times. I mean, she made eye contact with everyone at least once, but my stomach buzzed each time our eyes met. She pulled me in, and I was captivated.
A little while later, I walked out the front door of the library for a quick break. I paused when I saw Nicole leaning back against the brick wall of the library building, her eyes closed, and shoulders hunched. Her interview was over, and presumably she was leaving campus to go back to her hotel, or maybe straight to the airport. Was she waiting for her ride? The difference between the Nicole of the interview presentation and the Nicole slumped against the wall struck me. She reminded me of a flashlight in need of new batteries, her light dimmed and flickering. Her eyes opened then as she glanced at the phone in her hands. I quickly turned and kept walking.
Since she was hired, I’ve seen her just about every day, at least in passing. Closer contact every other week when the whole team meets together. She’s bubbly, often confidently contributing ideas and feedback. Not always waiting her turn to talk, as if what she needs to say is so life-altering that it bursts out of her mouth, exploding into the room like water breaking through a dam. I often wonder about the quiet, private moment I witnessed outside the library on her interview day. Wonder how she acts when her guard is down, when she’s alone or with the people she trusts most.
I gauge the passing time by the guidepost of her hair—she never keeps the same style for more than a few months. After the long, brick-colored red hair, she showed up to work one morning with a short haircut the color of pink cotton candy, only slightly darkerthan her pale skin. When her hair was about shoulder length, the color changed to a bluish green, like a mermaid. Lately, she’s kept her hair at about chin length, lavender, with the edges curling around her jawline. Her deep, emerald-green eyes should clash with the delicate purple surrounding her face, but instead the combination is mesmerizing. Add to that the dresses and blouses bright with color and patterns that she wears unironically all year long, she is radiant.
Objectively, have I seen prettier women than Nicole? Sure. Actresses and models are made up by professionals every day to reflect modern standards of beauty. But Nicole just … sparkles. I’m not even sure how to describe it. It’s like there’s this glow around her and I’m drawn toward her inexorably. Anyway. She’s clearly outside of my orbit. We’re coworkers. Coworkers who don’t even work together very often since we have totally different responsibilities. I’m not sure we’ve even spoken more than a few sentences at a time to each other.
I’m terrible at small talk; I never know what to say. And workwise, there’s no need. She’s a reference and instruction librarian, so her job is to be out in front of the students and faculty, teaching and conversing and helping them directly. She plans and hosts programs and events, answers drop-in questions, and presents in front of groups of students. I’m the cataloging librarian, so my job is to sit alone in my back office and develop metadata for new resources, making things easier to find electronically through the catalog and discovery system.
That afternoon, I enter the staff meeting room and sit in my normal spot in the corner for the team meeting. Herb sits in a seatnear the head of the large conference table. Herb, the director of Parker Library for the last ten years, is a cheerful, unassuming man in his sixties. He has a mop of gray hair and eyeglasses that can only be described as “spectacles”—round with a wiry frame. The corners of his mouth perpetually tip up, as if he is prepared at all times to break into a grin. There’s a rumor among the library staff that Herb spent the better part of his career working as a librarian for the CIA. I mean, it makes sense that an agency specializing in intelligence might need information specialists to help them organize it all, but I don’t know if Herb was their guy. I’ve never asked him, but one time, I overheard Samantha, one of the reference and instruction librarians, mention it to him and ask if it was true.
He gave her a small smile and responded, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Then he laughed. But I noticed he never answered the question.
Herb starts the meeting, giving us updates on ongoing projects and reviewing what needs to be done before the December semester break which is about a month and a half away. Finally, he opens the floor to anyone on staff who has something to discuss. Nicole raises her hand.
“I’d like to pilot a small graphic novel collection for the library,” she says, her voice confident. “My thought is to start with about fifty titles, tying the exact choices into the curricula for programs like English, history, art, possibly even education if we include some kids’ titles.”
“Interesting,” says Herb. “Tell us more.”
“I think it would be a great way to get students to engage with the library. We can plan some programming around the collection, track circulation stats, and hopefully, if the pilot is successful, add to those initial titles later.”
“Are you anticipating this being a distinct collection? All together on their own shelf rather than mixed in with the other circulating books?” Herb asks.
“Yes, that’s what I was picturing.”
A few of the other reference and instruction librarians ask questions or give feedback, especially the ones who are subject liaisons for the departments Nicole named. Most of the faces in the room look interested or at most indifferent.
Finally, Herb ends the conversation by saying, “Okay, Nicole. Your idea has potential. Write up a short proposal that lists the titles and estimates what this would cost.” He raps his knuckles on the table. “You should team up with Adam on this.”
My head pops up from where I’m doodling in my notebook. I look at Herb with confusion and then at Nicole, who is looking at Herb with a matching expression. Then, she slowly turns her head and looks straight at me.
I gulp.
