The Little Library

by Kim Fielding

  “From a historian’s point of view, that’s almost a shame.”

  “Good point. Maybe I’ll suggest at the next department meeting that we give up our laptops in favor of papyrus scrolls.”

  “Is there much papyrus in Nebraska?” He hoped he wasn’t taking the banter too far.

  “Oh, sure. Fourth biggest crop after corn, soy, and milo. I’ll be looking forward to chatting with you Wednesday morning, Dr. Thompson.”

  “Me too. Thanks.”

  As he ended the call and entered his house, he reminded himself not to get too excited. He’d had phone interviews before and knew there’d be nothing beyond that. At some point the search committee would google him, and then they’d move on. Also, Nebraska. But it was a good university and a tenure-track position, and beggars could not be choosers.

  After showering and a light breakfast, Elliott sat down with a cup of coffee and his laptop and spent several hours researching NSU’s history program. They had a Center for Central European Studies, which was undoubtedly why they were interested in him, but they also had strong offerings in human migrations and the Great Plains. Elliott could probably teach a course or two in those areas, if need be. The pay scales at NSU weren’t great, and he wasn’t at all sure he’d be thrilled to live so far from what he considered civilization. Were there gay bars in Broken Bow? On the other hand, the cost of living was low. For the price of his house in Modesto, he could buy three similarly sized homes there.

  But, shit, what about Simon?

  Elliott pushed away that thought as being doubly irrelevant. He’d never get an offer from NSU, and his fling with Simon was going to be short-lived. Fuck. Now he didn’t even know which disaster to hope for.

  On Tuesday morning, two things occurred to Elliott. One was that Halloween was just over a week away, and the other was that he hadn’t decided what to do with Simon on Thursday. The Halloween problem had an easy solution. He simply went online and ordered a bunch of monster-themed bookmarks and pencils and a huge bag of plastic spider rings. He wasn’t morally opposed to giving out candy, but he hated having the leftovers around, and in his experience, most kids got pretty jazzed over the trinkets.

  He turned his thoughts to date planning. Thursday felt important, in part because Columbia had been such a fun excursion and also because it was their third date. That was a level of commitment he’d rarely achieved, and of course Simon never had. The usual suspects—dinner, movie, drinks—seemed trite. But anything involving too much physical movement was beyond Simon’s abilities right now. There was a time element involved too, because Simon had an appointment Friday afternoon. So Elliott couldn’t plan anything really wild like a surprise getaway to Catalina Island.

  God, he sucked at this. No wonder his love life was a mess. Finally, out of sheer desperation, he texted Ladd. Need advice. Can I come over tonight?

  The reply came almost immediately, even though Ladd was probably in class. You’re asking for advice? Is the world ending?

  Elliott sent him the flipping-off emoji.

  He waited until after dinner to drive over to Ladd and Anna’s house. He could have eaten with them—Ladd extended an invitation—but he decided Tuesday tacos and Ladd’s homemade guac shouldn’t be sullied by the awkwardness of dating advice.

  His brother and sister-in-law lived not far from downtown, in a little bungalow that was nearly a century old. Unlike Elliott’s house, theirs had almost no yard, and sketchy people tended to wander the neighborhood now and then. But their place had character, which his tract home lacked. They had built-in bookcases, arched doorways, and leaded glass windows, and the old hardwood floors creaked pleasantly underfoot.

  They didn’t start with small talk. Ladd and Anna curled up on the couch next to each other, each with a cup of tea, while Elliott sat in a leather armchair and clutched a glass of water. “I have a phone interview tomorrow,” he said. “Nebraska State.”

  “Hey, that’s great!” Ladd said. “Congrats!”

  But the more observant Anna poked Ladd right before she said, “You don’t look all that thrilled, El.”

  “Not optimistic. There are complications. That’s sort of the part I need advice for.”

  Anna and Ladd both leaned forward eagerly. Great. They obviously expected that the Elliott Rips Open His Chest Show would be wonderful entertainment.

  “I’ve started dating this guy,” he began.

  Ladd interrupted. “You’re gay? Oh God! Not that!” He pressed a hand over his heart and fluttered his eyes at the ceiling.

  Anna poked him again, harder this time, and Elliott smiled his thanks at her. “Not Kyle, I take it?” she asked.

  “No. I like him. He’s nice. Not to sound clichéd or anything, but there’s no chemistry there.”

  She nodded. “He said almost the exact same thing about you.”

  Elliott could live with that. “Ladd, do you remember that neighbor we met when we were installing my library?”

  Apparently a big, sexy man had less impact on Ladd’s straight-boy brain than on Elliott’s gay one, because Ladd looked puzzled. “Um . . . yeah? He had a crutch, right?”

  “A cane. His name’s Simon.” Elliott gave them a quick biography, along with a summary of their first two dates. He downplayed the series of catastrophes at the restaurant, though.

  “Wow, Columbia!” Anna enthused. “That’s the perfect place for him to take you! Good catch, El!”

  “Yeah, except he’ll probably be the big one who got away.”

  Ladd pointed at Elliott. “That’s awfully pessimistic, dude.”

  So then Elliott explained Simon’s issues with his family, which made Ladd and Anna shake their heads.

  “I’m lucky to have you guys,” Elliott said. “And Mom and Dad, even though they’re so far away. Simon’s really tight with his parents, and I don’t think he wants to strain that.”

  “This isn’t another John situation, is it?” Ladd looked angry. “Because you don’t deserve that shit, and you know it.”

  “No. It’s . . . different. We’re going to reach a decision point, Simon and I. Either he’s going to determine that staying with me is something he wants to do, in which case he’s going to come out to his people. Or he’s going to decide I’m not worth it, and—”

  “And he’d be a complete idiot,” Anna interjected. “Don’t you get a say in this too?”

  “Nobody puts Elly in the corner,” Ladd said and narrowly avoided a third poke from his wife.

  Ignoring his brother, Elliott nodded at Anna. “Sure I do. But no way am I going to force him to make a choice he might regret later. I can be patient. It’s not like I have much else going on. Besides, I think he’s worth it.”

  Ladd yawned widely before giving an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. We had football practice at six thirty this morning.”

  “You having a good season?”

  “Hey. No getting out of advice-receiving by shifting the conversation to football. What is it you want us to tell you? Whether you should go for it with this Simon guy?”

  A car engine gunned loudly outside, making Elliott twitch. His nerves were as ragged as usual. “No. Something more concrete. I need ideas for where I could take him on Thursday.”

  While Ladd looked clueless, Anna smiled widely. “Criteria?”

  “Um, somewhere not boring. Away from the possibility of bumping into his relatives. Not too taxing for his leg. Food is a plus.”

  One thing he admired about Ladd and Anna was that they liked a challenge. They were both competitive too. Anna ran half marathons, and both of them had happily crushed Elliott at many a video game. As he’d hoped, they took his question as a test, a new puzzle to be solved.

  “Cost?” Ladd asked after a few moments of thought.

  “Moderate.” Elliott wasn’t rolling in dough and didn’t want to seem as if he was showing off. The excursion to Columbia had been pretty inexpensive.

  “Timeline?”

  “I’m picking him up at noon T
hursday. We need to be home that night.”

  Ladd tapped his chin, and Anna sipped her tea. “Any allergies, aversions, et cetera?” she asked.

  “Not that I know of. He’s easygoing. He’s sweet. He really likes to eat, but he’s a little embarrassed about it.”

  Everyone was silent for several minutes, but Elliott could see the wheels turning in Ladd’s and Anna’s heads. At one point Ladd opened his mouth as if to say something but then stopped and shook his head. “Stairs,” he muttered. Elliott didn’t ask for clarification.

  Anna set her mug decisively on the coffee table. “Got it. Sacramento.”

  Elliott hadn’t expected that. “Um . . . do you think he needs a tour of the capitol?”

  “Nope. Old Sac. You can regale him with more history. Take a ride on one of those riverboat tours. Watch him pig out on mini donuts and candy samples—or have a nice meal at one of those restaurants on the water.”

  Ladd seemed enthusiastic about the plan. “Train museum! That place is cool.”

  It was a pretty good idea. It met all his guidelines and was quirky without being too weird. He stood, walked to the couch, and took Anna’s hand. With a deep bow, he kissed the back of it. “Thank you, Lady Anna. Once again, you’re perfection.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Ladd exclaimed.

  Elliott took his hand, kissed it, and was rewarded by Ladd’s overly dramatic eye roll.

  Sacramento it was.

  ***

  Before Elliott could spend time with Simon, he had to survive the phone interview with NSU. He was grateful it was scheduled for early in the day. As it was, he’d slept fitfully and awakened before dawn, then he went for a quick run that did little to soothe his nerves. He’d had no appetite for breakfast. By a few minutes before eight, he was pacing the floor—phone in hand—trying to calm himself.

  “You can do this,” he said, hoping a pep talk might help. “You’re smart. You’re a good scholar and a good instructor. You’ve done your homework on this department. It’s just a little telephone conversation.”

  Right.

  His phone rang at exactly one minute past the hour. “Hi, Elliott. This is Ginny. I’m sitting here with Berta and Greg, the other members of the search committee.”

  From his online research, Elliott knew that Berta was a full professor and the director of the Central European Center. Greg was junior faculty, a specialist in the history of medicine—which sounded interesting, although Elliott knew little about it. “Good morning,” Elliott said.

  They made a few minutes of small talk. Apparently a cold snap was predicted for Nebraska, but this week had been unseasonably warm. Soon they got into the meat of the interview, with the committee asking a series of questions about his research interests, teaching philosophy, and views on mentoring students. It was hard to judge his impact when Elliott couldn’t see their reactions, but he felt as if he answered well, neither droning on nor responding too abruptly. Berta seemed especially interested in some of what he had to say; she asked a few follow-ups about his specific publication plans and about what classes he’d be most likely to teach.

  While the interview proceeded, Elliott walked slowly around his living room. Movement seemed more soothing than sitting.

  Having apparently exhausted their rote list of queries, Ginny finally asked, “Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?”

  He almost said no, but that would be pointless. So he took a deep breath. “Yes, there is. I don’t know if you’ve done any background research on me. If you have, you’ve discovered I was embroiled in a scandal in my last tenure-track position. I was eventually cleared of all wrongdoing, but the record is still out there.”

  A brief pause ensued. He imagined the committee members exchanging glances. “Would you like to tell us about it?” Ginny asked.

  “Sure. When I was in grad school, I began an affair with my dissertation advisor. He later became a dean at a different institution, and I was hired into the history department there. Nobody knew about us. Then he got caught stealing money from the college and our relationship became public knowledge. I didn’t know he was stealing.” Elliott sighed. “He’s in prison. I was exonerated and got a settlement from the university.”

  More silence, longer this time. “Can I tell you something else?” he asked.

  Ginny answered. “Of course.”

  “I was stupid to get involved and stay involved with him, and I shouldn’t have gone along with keeping our relationship a secret. But none of that reflects on my suitability for your department. You can read my journal articles and my teaching evaluations—those speak for themselves. I earned my degree and my faculty position, and until John got caught, I kept my job because I was good at it, not because he acted on my behalf.”

  “We appreciate your candor,” Ginny said. “It sounds as if you were in a difficult position.”

  “I was. And I take responsibility for putting myself there. I’m hoping you’ll judge me on my work and not on that mistake.”

  “We all make mistakes.” That was Greg. “God knows I have—as my first two wives would be more than happy to tell you.”

  Heartened, Elliott chanced a small chuckle. “I think that’s one thing being a historian teaches us: everyone screws up. Sometimes on a much bigger scale than I did. The Habsburgs come to mind, for instance.”

  “You will not be declaring yourself emperor of Mexico?” Berta asked.

  “I don’t plan on it, no. And if I’ve been warned that the Black Hand wants to assassinate me, I won’t ride around town in an open car.”

  All three members of the search committee laughed. Good. At least he could produce in-jokes for historians.

  Ginny spoke next. “Elliott, we were wondering why you left your previous position for adjunct positions in California. I’m glad you explained. How do you feel about picking up and moving again?”

  “Well, I grew up in Modesto and I’ve never visited Nebraska. But I’m geographically adaptable. I’ve always spent most of my time on my studies or work, and I don’t need a lot of excitement. Actually, Modesto is kind of the Nebraska of California. Our major industries are ag related, and we’re surrounded by cattle ranches and orchards. So it wouldn’t be as big an adjustment for me as you might assume.” He hoped that was true—he was trying to be honest.

  Of course, he didn’t mention that moving would mean leaving Simon behind. Walking away from the man he was falling in love with. Shit. Falling in love with?

  “Elliott?” Ginny prompted.

  “I’m sorry—you faded out there for a moment.” Thank God bad cell reception was always a handy excuse. “Could you repeat the question?”

  “We just wanted to know if you had additional questions for us.”

  For once, damn it, go for broke. “Could you tell me whether you’re honestly still considering me for the position after what I told you?”

  “Yes,” Ginny responded promptly. “We are. We have several more candidates to interview, and then we’ll be inviting three finalists to campus. Probably early in the new year, since the holidays and end of the semester are almost upon us. But nothing you’ve said today rules you out as a candidate.”

  Elliott was very thankful they couldn’t see him just then—his entire body shuddered with relief at her words. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for talking to us today.”

  There was a brief round of goodbyes before the call ended. For a long time afterward, Elliott remained rooted in place, the warm phone clutched in one hand. That hadn’t been so awful. He at least had the impression that Ginny meant what she’d said. If he didn’t get an invitation for a campus visit, it would be because other candidates impressed the committee more or were a better fit for their needs, not because of the thing with John.

  But, fuck, what about the realization that had raised its fuzzy little head in the midst of the phone call? Falling in love with Simon. Was that even possible at this early point, or was Elliott fooling hi
mself due to lust and loneliness? If it was true, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

  It was too much to consider.

  Elliott sat in front of his laptop and went straight to Amazon. In short order, he’d added a dozen books to his shopping cart. But they were for the library, not for him. In fact, they were all children’s books, some of them for younger readers like the astronomy-loving Girl Scout and some aimed more at teenagers. Those didn’t count as additions to his book hoard, right?

  He placed his order, closed the laptop, and headed for the bedroom to change back into sweats. He could get in another mile or two of running before settling down to grade exams.

  Chapter Eleven

  While Elliott piloted his car on the freeway, Simon sat in the passenger seat, munching on donuts, looking more handsome than ever in a leather jacket and red sweater, and grinning as he told stories from his days as a cop. That alone was enough to distract Elliott from his driving. But Simon smelled good too, damn it, like shampoo and something a bit spicy, and he kept putting his hand on Elliott’s thigh.

  “If you keep doing that, I’m going to run us off the road,” Elliott warned. “You see those cows over there? We’re going to land right in the middle of them.”

  “I’m not even touching you anywhere interesting,” Simon protested.

  “I disagree. It’s very interesting.”

  When Simon laughed, it was amazing that the entire car didn’t shake. “Okay. I’ll try to be more boring.” But even though he took his hand away, he couldn’t help looking delicious. Elliott tried to keep his gaze trained faithfully on the highway.

  “I have to admit something,” Elliott said as they drove through Lodi.

  “Yeah?”

  “Today’s outing wasn’t my idea. I had to solicit suggestions from Ladd and Anna.” The semi he was passing wandered over the line, forcing Elliott to swerve left to avoid being run over. It was the third time during this drive he’d nearly been run off the road. Apparently everyone was taking the lane markings as suggestions rather than requirements.