Tish is off to school. I’ve straightened out Alex’s house, I’ve done the weekly food shopping, and the rest of Monday is stretching out in front of me like a long, smooth ribbon of time.
I decide it’s probably a good day to do some exploring, and one of the places I want to explore is Pepperdine University. Mickie told me that the campus is worth looking at, and that there’s an incredible library right on the Pacific Coast Highway. So my plan is to go there and have a look around, perhaps see if I can borrow books from there, or at least see what I have to do to be able to borrow books.
University libraries can be tricky. Sometimes they’re opened to the general public, and sometimes they’re not. Errol and I often lived in university towns, so I’ve used those libraries when I could, when I’ve had the time to read, and when I’ve been able to take books out.
I drove to Payson Library, although I could have walked. People don’t seem to walk a lot around here, and I didn’t want to have to cross the PCH on foot. I want to think that this building looks friendly and inviting, but it doesn’t. Inside, it’s just as intimidating as it is outside, but there’s a front desk, like the front desk in every library, and I go to it immediately to find out their policies.
“You can use the resources here at will,” the woman there tells me, “but if you want to take books out, you need a card. Are you related to anyone in the faculty?” she asks.
“No, I’ve just moved here,” I tell her.
“You could become a ‘Friend’ of the library. For a one hundred dollar, annual donation you can get a card.” My face must show my surprise, because the woman gives me a wry smile and rolls her eyes a little. “I know, it’s ridiculous, them calling it a ‘donation’. It’s a flat fee.”
“It’s pretty steep,” I say.
“I know, but frankly, it’s worth it. The local library is… lacking. Here, this is the paperwork, have a look at it,” she says, handing me a small pamphlet and an enrollment form. “I’m going to check these people out, and I’ll be right back.”
I look over the information. This looks like an excellent library, with an extensive collection of books. There are other libraries that Payson is affiliated with, too, which I find appealing. Now, if I were a student, or relative of someone who worked here, I could have free reign of the place. It all comes down to the one hundred dollars. Just yesterday, as I was writing out the deposit checks for camp, I was stewing about the money. Errol will be sending me a single check to cover his portion of the expenses, but until then, my savings account has taken a beating.
Logically, I have enough money to do this. Emotionally, the sum makes me break out into a sweat. So I stand here, trying to draw out the new me, the me that isn’t going to torture herself over these sorts of things. The me that is going to go forth without so many reservations, because in all honesty, I’m not sure it IS the money that’s making me hesitate, I think that, perhaps, it may just be the setting. The stacks, the wood paneled walls, the size of the building, even the size of the desk seem intimidating.
I take out my pen and begin to fill out the application for the card.
“You’ll be happy you did this,” the woman behind the desk says. I look up and she’s smiling at me. It’s then that I notice her, her auburn hair in long curls held back by a series of clips, her friendly, hazel eyes with laugh line creases.
“I’m sure I will be,” I agree. I hand her the application and she looks it over.
“You live right around the corner.”
“I know, I didn’t realize that you were so close by.”
“To be honest, we don’t get many local residents in here,” she said. “High school kids, yes, adults, no.”
“I don’t think this is much of a reading community,” I say. I don’t. I have yet to see Alex pick up a book. I have yet to find one in his house. I never did pick one up for him, I suppose I didn’t know where to begin to choose. If I had to get him something from here, I’d still be at a loss.
“No, it’s not. Oh, that’s not true, really, we get the odd actor in here doing a bit of research, and there IS a large community of people who aren’t celebrities. It’s just that there are more celebrities in this area than not. And the tourists never come in.”
“Tourists?”
“Malibu beaches get packed in the summer.” She smiles at me. “You haven’t been here long enough. This is the quiet season.”
“No, I haven’t been here long at all.”
“You’ll get the hang of things.”
“Do you live here in Malibu?”
“Yes, in the upper hills.”
“I take it you’re a non-celebrity,” I say, with a quiet laugh.
“Oh, no, I’m quite the celebrity around here, I control the commodity.” She bursts out laughing, then rolls her eyes and quiets herself. All this time she’s been typing into a computer. Now she presses a button and the computer goes into the process of printing and spitting out a laminated card from some contraption or another. “I’m Nyle, Siobhan. I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing quite a bit of you in here.”
“Wow, you got my name right first time,” I say, taking her offered hand in a firm shake.
“I love Irish names. My daughter’s name is Erin.”
“Yours is certainly interesting.”
“So are my parents,” she says, and she laughs out loud again before catching herself. “I’m not suited to this job by nature, I’m much too boisterous,” she says. My library card is done, and she takes it from below the desk, then reaches for a page of bar code stickers. She looks at the page for a moment, then puts it back and takes another.
“Who do I make the check out to?” I ask, pen at the ready.
“Never mind. I’ve given you a ‘family’ card. It appears that you’ve suddenly become my sister-in-law,” she says with a wink.
“I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can,” she insists, then she puts her finger to her lips, because two other women and a man have joined her behind the desk. “Would you like a little tour of the facility? I’m headed out on a break, and it’s easier to find your way around if someone shows you.”
“Sure, if you have the time.”
“Always,” she says. Then she turns to one of the other people and says, “I’m just going to do an orientation, then I’m taking my lunch break. I’ll be back around, oh, one, one-thirty.”
They only nod and she comes around the front of the desk from a small, adjoining room.
“Let’s have a look around,” she says, and she gestures for me to follow her.
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
The library is huge and I’m grateful for the tour. There’s even a tea room, a place where Japanese Tea ceremonies happen, and Nyle informs me that there are classes available to the public, where a person could learn about the ceremony, as well as learn how to perform them. She seems to be in no hurry as we wander through the rooms. She even takes the time to show me how to work the computerized catalog, as well as how to access research codes.
Then she asks me if I’d like to join her for a coffee, because, she explains, she really doesn’t eat lunch.
“You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I tell her. We’re sitting outside in a tiny pavilion, sipping our drinks.
“I know, you just looked like you were actually interested in the library. Usually all I see are students who ‘know’ everything, that is until they’re completely lost in the stacks and I have to send out a search party, or faculty, who can be indescribably rude. I don’t see too many civilians.” She laughs. “Maybe it was your hair. There aren’t too many of us natural redheads around,” and she laughs again.
“You’re a lot more amusing than most librarians,” I tell her.
“Well, maybe it’s because I find being a librarian to be amusing.” She pauses, and looks out at the pristine sky and the ocean. “I’ve only lived here in Malibu for about five years,” she says. “I’m not even an American, I’m from Canada. My daughter’s in college here, so I came with her, and dragged my son along, too. He’s at the high school, but he takes some classes here, too. I was a librarian back in Canada, so I looked for a position here, and, well, here I am.”
“Do you like it here?” I ask.
“Love it, although my skin isn’t made for the sun. No matter, they have sun screen in abundance.” She takes another sip of her latte. “What about you, are you enjoying it here in California?”
“Yeah, I think so. I have an odd job, working for an odd man, but it pays well, and my daughter’s in the high school, too, only it’s junior high. I haven’t gotten around much, yet. Too busy. But I like what I’ve seen so far.”
“How long have you been split from your husband?” she asks me. The question is startling, I haven’t mentioned anything about being divorced.
“Not too long, about seven months. How did you know that?”
“You have that familiar look about you,” she says. “I stayed in Canada for a while, but when Erin left for college, I thought it was a great opportunity to leave. She’s actually a graduate student now. Dan is a senior. This has been a terrific place to pick up the pieces. I think you’re going to like it here a lot more than you do now.” She finishes her coffee. “I have to run. Bring your daughter around. And if you ever need a sitter, Erin does a little child care on the side. She’s an Education student, so she considers it all part of her career,” and Nyle laughed out loud again. “I have to run. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m sure you will,” I tell her, but she’s already up and halfway across the pavilion.
Today IS a strange day.
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© 2003 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2003 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
