M Sellars - The End Of Desire

“Yeah, thanks,” I said in a tired drone, giving her a shallow nod.

I pushed the unused chair back beneath the table then walked over and stood next to the reader and waited patiently. The young woman removed the spool of film then tucked it back into a box. Gathering up her notebook, she hefted her backpack from the floor and slipped it over one shoulder before stepping aside and giving me a smile.

“You kind of have to coax it a bit sometimes,” she told me. “It sticks every now and then.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I had to use this one earlier. Thanks.”

“Soooo…Genealogy?” she asked.

“Huh?” My question came out more as a grunt than a word.

I wasn’t really paying attention. I already had my own spool of aging film in my hand and was pushing it onto the feed spindle when she made her query. Truth is, my mind was wandering, and it had settled on the fact that I hadn’t done research by microfilm since I was in college myself, which was longer ago than I really wanted to think about.

“I was just wondering if you were maybe doing genealogical research,” she pressed on, apparently unfazed by my woolgathering expression. “You know, investigating your roots. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing back and giving her a tired nod. “Yeah, I guess you could say it’s something like that.”

I turned back to the task at hand and pressed the plastic spool inward until I felt it snap. Then I tugged on the free end of the film and started to thread it beneath the glass.

I couldn’t help but feel the girl was still standing behind me. I wondered for a moment if I should reach back and check on my wallet. But, malicious energy wasn’t what seemed to be coming from her. Actually, it felt more like a bizarre mix of curiosity and arousal. Of course, with everything that was bombarding me, I didn’t even want to hazard a guess as to whether or not those feelings were coming from her or somewhere across the room. Instead I just tried to ignore her and hoped that she would go away.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” she finally said. “I’ve been watching you.”

Obviously, ignoring her wasn’t going to work. I glanced back over my shoulder again. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, I mean…” She paused for a moment then shrugged. “You look kinda old to be a student.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice flat.

Turning back to the machine, I fished the loop of brittle film through the guide plate and hooked it onto the take-up reel.

“Oh, that wasn’t meant as an insult,” she said, backpedaling.

I replied without turning this time. “No big deal. I wasn’t offended. I realize I’m old as compared to you. That part of my brain still works.”

I felt something touch me, and I looked down to see that she had leaned in close, actually bringing her ample chest against my arm. I had the distinct impression the physical contact wasn’t an accident. She proved that out by dropping her voice even lower and infusing it with a sultry sweetness.

“The truth is, I really like older men…a lot…know what I mean?” she whispered as if sharing a secret.

Now the hairs on the back of my neck were no longer at rest. I stopped what I was doing and hung my head for a moment then sighed.

Finally, I said, “Please tell me you aren’t trying to pick me up.”

I could hear the nonchalance in her voice as she replied, “Well, hey… You’re kind of cute. I was thinking maybe we could go get a cup of coffee or something and see where things go from there?”

I turned to face her and she eased back, flashing me a shy smile that was too brazen to truly qualify as coy.

“I’m betting I’m old enough to be your father,” I said.

“Yeah, probably. So what? That’s the point.”

I opened my mouth to comment on that observation but decided against it. I certainly had no right to judge whatever her proclivities were. Instead I bolstered my objection with, “I’m also happily married.”

“Yeah. Okay. But, she isn’t with you right now is she?” she countered. “You’ve been alone since I’ve been here.”

“Actually, she’s the entire reason I’m here at the moment, but that’s not the point…”

“Hey, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Look, young lady…”

“Erika.” She interrupted me then thrust out her hand. “And you are?”

I ignored her gesture but returned with a sigh, “Rowan.”

“Rowan. That’s an interesting name. I like it.” She continued holding her hand out waiting for me to take it.

“Thanks,” I replied, still ignoring the offered appendage. “So, listen, Erika, you’ve got to know that you’re playing a dangerous game here. You have absolutely no idea who I am.”

After a silent pause, she finally allowed her hand to fall back down to her side. “Yeah. Well, that’s part of the turn-on too.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I could be some kind of sicko for all you know.”

“You look pretty safe to me.”

“Most sociopaths do,” I told her. “And, I’ve actually got some experience in that area.”

“Really? How so?”

“Trust me, you really don’t want to know.”

She paused again and gave me a once over as if she were sizing me up. “Okay. So, tell me. Are you a ‘sicko’?”

“Again, that’s not the point.”

She pursed her lips, thrusting the lower one out in an exaggerated pout while giving me an obviously practiced come-hither gaze. “So what is it then? Are you just not into blondes?”

“Listen, Erika, is this some kind of game show? Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Because, honestly, I don’t have time for this.”

She chuckled. “You’re funny too.”

I held up my hands in mock surrender as I huffed out a heavy breath. “All right, look, I’m flattered… At least I think I am… Anyway, this just isn’t going to happen. Understand?”

She blinked and shook her head. To me, her expression looked as if reality had just walked up behind her and given her a swift kick.

“You’re serious,” she said, a wisp of incredulity in her voice.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“You really don’t want to…”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Well… Okay. It’s your loss.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for that.”

“Well, you know…” she began, as she opened her notebook and started pulling a pen from the spiral binding. “I could give you my number in case you change your mind…”

It was my turn to do the interrupting, “That isn’t necessary. I won’t.”

She looked at me curiously then shoved the pen back down and closed the notebook. “Okay. Well, never know until you try.” With a shrug she added, “Good luck with whatever you’re doing there, I guess.”

“Yeah. Thanks. You too.”

With a shake of her head, she finally walked away.

I took in a deep breath and shook my own head as I let it out. This was the second time I had been propositioned in as many days. Even less if you considered that the first had actually been fewer than twenty-four hours ago. Granted, that one had been a hooker, but I had to wonder just what it was about me that was attracting the overtures.

Turning back to the machine, I decided to put it out of my mind and get to work. If the rest of the day continued along the same lines as my morning, I still had a lot of searching ahead of me. Even then I was beginning to wonder if I would ever find what I was looking for, especially since I didn’t really know exactly what that was.

Cocking my head over against my shoulder, I stared at the image on the marred base of the film reader. Winding the celluloid slowly, I located a reference frame. I glanced over to my steno pad and read a note I had scrawled across it then returned my gaze to the dimly luminous image and started winding the lever. The film stopped moving after a moment, so I gave the side of the machine a hard rap with my knuckles to re-engage the slipping gears then started winding it again. After a few seconds I slowed, advancing the film frame by frame until I found the date I had written in my notes.