Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

It was nothing more than a typical day at work, steady flow of people in and out of the library. The students that normally helped out had the day off. School would be starting soon and they needed the time to shop and register for classes. Although the library seemed quiet, Blanche found herself more on edge than usual. Each patron that walked through the door she sized up as a threat or not. The news from the morning, she suspected, had everyone paying more attention to his or her surroundings. Probably would not have been as big a deal if she had not looked through the material the other night in an effort to help Seymour.

“He must be reveling in this stuff,” she thought, and then realized he would be in to work shortly and her sympathetic nervous system responded. She suddenly felt anxious to see him, her palms were instantly moist, her face felt warm and she detected the slightest increase in her breathing and pulse rate. “What’s the deal?” she thought. “I’m not a school girl any more, for heaven’s sake, get a grip Blanche.”

The rest of the afternoon passed much slower than she would have liked. She looked at her watch often, counting the hours, then minutes, until 6:00 p.m., however, the distraction and her excitement over the arrival of Seymour had eased her tension over the predator, until at half past five, a gentleman walked into the library that gave Blanche pause.

He walked through the entry, waited for the door to close behind him, then just stood and surveyed the library from that vantage point. A straw trilby hat sat atop his head with a red checked band running around the circumference. He was unkempt, dressed in a flowered shirt from the 60’s and a pair of grubby jeans that had not seen the inside of a washing machine for far too long, but it was more than his appearance, something just didn’t feel right to the librarian. As he took in the main floor, eyes moving over every shelf, patron, and finally the main desk, his eyes locked on Blanche and he grinned, noting that the shapely librarian seemed to be staring at him.

“That face, I’ve seen that somewhere before, I know I have.” Her mind went into overdrive, sorting through memory banks in an effort to remember how she knew him. If he’d just take off the darkly tinted glasses she’d have a better idea if she knew him, and there was something odd about his hair, just couldn’t quite put her finger on it but it was somehow unusual. “Or maybe he just has one of those familiar faces,” she ultimately reasoned.

When he finally moved away from the entry and appeared to be browsing, like most people do when they get their bearings, she breathed a sigh of relief. A few minutes later she saw him again, this time ignoring her. His brown shaggy hair was hanging over his ears, as he moved in and out between the shelving units, but not really looking at the titles. She looked at her watch again, quarter till, she’d be glad when Seymour got there. This guy was making her very nervous. He passed by the desk, nodded his head as if to say hello but did not open his mouth, rather moved up the elegant staircase to the second floor. She stared after him wondering what his game was.

At exactly six Seymour burst through the main doors as he always did after a spirited run from the bus stop. Blanche was so relieved to see his smiling face, more than she dared to admit. He acknowledged her from the doorway with a wave and quickly moved to the desk. The anxious librarian scooted from behind the large desk to meet Seymour in the empty space at the bottom of the stairs. She grasped his arm, pulling him close to her, cradling his arm between her breasts as she pulled his ear low enough for her to whisper into.

“I am so glad to see you today,” she quietly spoke, her breath raising the hair on the back of his neck.

He turned his face to look into her eyes, she was beautiful, and having her so close made him feel warm all over. “And I you, is there something wrong?” He could see the worry in her face.

“I don’t know, I’m just a little freaked out by the stuff that is going on, you know The Stalker and all,” she said, not letting go of his arm, her lips moving dangerously close to his. “A guy with a straw hat came in about a half hour ago, kind of gave me the creeps and he’s upstairs doing something, I don’t dare go up and see.”

“Would you like me to take a look?” Seymour offered, wanting to shorten the distance even further and pull her into his arms.

“Could you? It would make me feel so much better if you would just see what he’s up to.”

He loved coming to her rescue, made him feel like her knight in shining armor, but he was sure he’d find the guy just reading a magazine or surfing the net on one of the many computers on the second floor. “Sure, your wish is my command,” he said, bowing before her as if she were a queen.

“Okay, knock it off and get your butt upstairs,” she said, with a girlish grin.

Seymour bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and was gone from Blanche’s view. She returned to the desk and the work she had been putting off all day. A few minutes passed, then a few more, Blanche anxiously looked up the stairs but could see no one. Fifteen minutes later she felt she could wait no longer. “What is taking him so long, it’s not that much space. Must have found him and is having a heart to heart, or — or else…” Her mind ran wild with possibilities. “I’ve got to know,” she thought, anxious and trembling as she started up the stairs.

Half way up, she saw Seymour coming down. He lifted both hands, signifying empty, and met her in the middle of the staircase. “There’s nobody up there, I looked everywhere and then some. You sure he went up there?”

“I definitely saw him go up and it was about 30 minutes ago, I’m sure of it. I guess it’s possible that he came down and left the library when I was distracted, but I really haven’t left the desk.” She thought for a moment, running the past half hour through her mind. “That’s really the only logical explanation, I did step to the back for just a quick minute to get a box of tissues, he must have come down the stairs then and I didn’t notice.” Relieved she again took his arm and led him down the stairs to the desk. “I do appreciate you doing that for me, I’ve been a nervous wreck this afternoon. I feel so much better now that you’re here, thanks.”

“Glad I could help. Can I tell you something, and I hope it doesn’t sound corny to you.” He mustered up the courage to speak from his heart.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a little awkward around girls, I mean women.”

Blanche interrupted him with a little white lie, “No, no, I don’t think you are.”

“Well I am, anyway, I just wanted to tell you that when I’m with you I don’t feel that way. I feel like I can just be myself and you’ll still like me,” he managed to say, moving his eyes from his feet to her eyes as he expressed himself.

She wanted to pull the young man to her and hug him. She could tell this was difficult for him and she wanted to let him know that she felt the same way, but the words of his mother kept ringing in her ears, “Don’t hurt my son.”

“What I’m trying to say, I guess, is I really like you more than I think you know and I was wondering, and I know we work together and everything, but I was wondering if you would have dinner with me tomorrow night so we could be together someplace other than here,” he said, looking around the library.

Blanche’s heart skipped a beat and she wanted to enthusiastically say yes, but she hesitated for numerous reasons and moved her eyes away from his, as she dipped her chin to her chest. Seymour read the gesture as a no, and was almost sick, until she raised her head with a twinkle in her eyes and a beautiful smile across her lips.