Page 4 of Hiss and Tell
“Daddy’s not coming?” Milo’s voice wobbles as he processes both the bad word and what it means. His face crumples as the implications hit him.
Sebastian clears his throat softly. “Perhaps we should take a brief—”
“I said a bad word.” The words tumble out. “I am so sorry. Beyond sorry. I’ll just… we’ll just…” Standing up feels like moving through molasses, my legs somehow both shaky and numb.
“Mama?” Milo’s hand catches mine, anchoring me to the spot. “But the dinosaur museum…”
One of the other mothers—Katie? Cathy?—whispers loudly to her friend, “This is why some people shouldn’t—”
“Ms. Walker.” Sebastian’s voice cuts through the mounting chaos with gentle authority. His snakes have gone completely still, which somehow makes him more imposing. “May I speak with you in my office? Mrs. Reyes, would you mind finishing the last few pages of the story?”
The mom who always has a smile appears totally unfazed by my outburst. She nods happily, already reaching for the book. But Milo’s grip on my hand tightens.
“Bug, I need you to stay with—”
“No!” His face flushes red, tears threatening. “You said Daddy promised! You said—”
Someone mutters about “discipline” and “standards.” The room starts to spin slightly at the edges.
“Milo.” Sebastian crouches down to eye level with my son, his massive frame somehow making the motion look graceful. “I have a very special job that needs doing. See that shelf over there? The one with all the dinosaur books? I think they might be out of order. Could you and Steggy check for me? It’s a job only a real dinosaur expert can handle. Can you sort them by dinosaur type?”
Milo’s chin quivers, but the responsibility in the request draws his shoulders back slightly. “Even… even the big kid books?”
“Especially those. Your mom and I will be back shortly.” Sebastian’s smile is warm and genuine. “Think you can do that for me?”
A hesitant nod. Then Milo’s hand slips from mine as he walks with wounded dignity toward the shelves, Super Steggy clutched close.
Sebastian straightens, gesturing toward a door marked “Staff Only.” Every step feels like walking the plank, the weight of judgmental stares burning into my back. The meeting with the accounting firm flashes through my mind. Today at 5:00 PM. It’s my chance of dropping one job, at finally getting ahead instead of just barely keeping up. All probably ruined now, because who wants to hire someone who screams obscenities in a children’s library?
Sebastian’s office is smaller than expected, barely big enough for a desk and two chairs. A wall of children’s artwork adds color to the institutional beige paint. I recognize Milo’s crayon dinosaur from last month; it’s prominently displayed.
“Please, sit.” As Sebastian settles behind his desk, his elbow catches the edge of his water glass, sending it tumbling across the desktop. Water spreads across his papers as he lunges to catch it, his massive frame suddenly seeming too large for the small space.
“Oh, no—I’m so sorry,” he mutters, frantically grabbing tissues from a box to mop up the mess. His snakes writhe in apparent embarrassment as he tries to salvage the soggy incident report forms. “I don’t usually… this doesn’t normally…”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, helping him move books out of the water’s path. “Happens to everyone.”
But his cheeks have darkened, and I notice how carefully he moves after that, like someone used to worrying about taking up too much space.
“I am so sorry.” The words rush out again. “I know it’s inexcusable. I’ll write an apology to the board, take whatever sensitivity training—”
He holds up one large hand. “Ms. Walker—”
“It’s just been a really rough day, which I know isn’t an excuse, but my ex just canceled on Milo… again, and I have this huge meeting later that could change everything, and I’ve been up since—” The room blurs as tears threaten. No. Absolutely not. Crying in front of the hot librarian is not going to happen. Even if his concern looks genuine. Even if something about his presence makes the panic recede slightly.
“Ms. Walker.” Firmer this time. “I understand that circumstances can be… overwhelming. However, the library does have a code of conduct.”
“Of course.” Straightening my spine, I brace for the ban I know is coming. “How long?”
“Three months, I’m afraid. It’s the standard penalty for disruptive behavior and inappropriate language.” He actually sounds regretful. “The board is very strict about maintaining a family-friendly environment.”
Three months. No library. No storytime. No safe space for Milo to escape when things get hard. No calm presence of the gorgeous librarian who somehow makes everything feel less chaotic.
Wait, what? No. Focus on the actual problem.
“I understand.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “But Milo did nothing wrong. Surely, if I have a friend or neighbor bring—”
“I’m so sorry, but the rules are specific. I wish I could let Milo attend; he’s a great kid. But I can’t.”
