Page 68 of The Librarians
The library’s reopening thrills Astrid. She arrives a full hour early to work, walks three circles around the building, and traces her hand everywhere that was once damaged but is now made whole again.
Fifteen minutes before the start of business hours, the parking lot is already half-full, with patrons chatting to one another before the brand-new sliding doors.
Once those doors open, one patron after another tells Astrid how happy they are to have their library back, how much they took its services, its convenience, and its lovely ambience for granted until it was suddenly out of commission.
And to one patron after another Astrid confesses that she feels exactly the same—as much as she loves the library, she too has taken its existence for granted.
What a miraculous place it is, a haven for anyone who passes through, and a refuge for the individuals who have dedicated their working lives to its excellence and betterment.
Astrid does two storytimes back-to-back and must have high-fived Sophie three times during the first half of her shift and Jonathan at least as often.
In the middle of the afternoon, however, in comes Gus Anderson, the Fifty Shades patron, and Astrid happens to be on the last few minutes of her public-facing hour at the checkout station.
If only Hazel were here to play him like a fiddle!
The old man manages to talk like a human being for a couple of minutes, before he shows his real interest. “That new librarian, the pretty one, she mentioned she likes male-male romances. That got me thinking”—he tee-hees—“is there such a thing as a female-female romance?”
Wanker , as Perry would have said.
Think of Hazel. Think of how she handled this wanker.
“Of course,” Astrid says with great professionalism.
“There are many wonderful women-loving-women stories to choose from. Do you have any other parameters for me to narrow the search for you? Do you like stories set on the high sea? In the Old West? Or maybe with a speculative element, you know, like—”
“Like in Barbarella ?” Gus Anderson’s eyes light up.
Astrid has only the vaguest impression of a young Jane Fonda in a skimpy outfit on the Barbarella movie poster, an image that serves the male gaze as its raison d’être.
“Comparable titles in the sense that these stories are also set in the future, or in space, or sometimes both,” she says firmly. “Would you like some recommendations?”
“Absolutely.” The old man sounds giddy. “Bring them on.”
Astrid writes down This Is How You End the Time War and Gideon the Ninth for him, and then personally takes him to the stacks to retrieve The Stars Are Legion , by Kameron Hurley. “There isn’t a single man in this book. Everybody on this planet is a woman.”
“Oh, my!”
Gus Anderson, his head probably brimming with images of thousands of chicks making out with one another for his delectation, checks out the book and leaves happily.
Hazel comes into the library then, dressed simply in jeans and a gray hoodie, yet looking gloriously vibrant. Astrid rushes out from the circulation area to embrace her. “I thought you don’t start working until tomorrow!”
“I don’t, but I can’t miss the first day of the library’s reopening.” Hazel points unobtrusively toward the sliding doors. “Saw our friend leaving with The Stars Are Legion . I think he’s going to pass out.”
“I know.” Astrid giggles. “That’s the hope, at least.”
Hazel grins. “Good job, you, expanding our patrons’ horizons.”
Astrid basks in that compliment.
Everyone else also gathers to welcome Hazel back, Sophie especially, as Hazel left for Singapore with not only a box of books worth almost as much as the most expensive house in Austin, but also Jeannette Obermann’s phone.
Hazel loads bags of salted egg yolk–flavored chips, interesting cup ramens, and Tim Tams—which are apparently available in Singapore—onto the Wall of International Snacks. Then the four of them gather briefly in Sophie’s office.
“Is it all taken care of?” asks Jonathan.
“All taken care of,” answers Hazel. “That phone doesn’t exist anymore.”
Sophie rubs her knuckles lightly across her sternum, as if she is releasing the last of the pressure from her chest.
Everyone quietly hugs her.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” says Astrid. “Hazel, I’ve been waiting to invite you in person to Friendsgiving this weekend. I’m making ham balls and Jell-O salads, Midwestern classics.”
“Oh, cool. I’ll bring a store-bought Peking duck—and see if I can find a good recipe for sticky rice with shiitake mushrooms and Chinese sausage. Those were what we used to eat at Thanksgiving when I was a child.”
“I’m already drooling,” murmurs Jonathan. “What about Conrad? I’ll bet he does a mean casserole if he puts his mind to it.”
Everyone is still chortling as they file out of Sophie’s office.
The staff pose together in front of the library. The pictures come out beautifully. Sophie says she will frame her favorite and hang it up in her office, to commemorate the reopening of the library.
Everyone else must go back inside to their duties, but Hazel, who isn’t on the clock today, has the luxury to linger for a few minutes.
Go on. Start a new life for yourself , Nainai had told her before her first day at work. At the time Nainai’s exhortation had seemed much too lofty a goal for Hazel, who was only trying to get through the day.
Have a wonderful life , Conrad once inscribed those words to her. That day on Madeira she hadn’t the least idea how to live a wonderful life, hadn’t even believed in the possibility.
Now she has a new life and she is beginning to wonder how one might go about achieving a wonderful one.
And she still doesn’t know how to do that. But maybe, she can learn to have wonderful moments instead.
A wonderful moment is her standing by the bike rack before the library, her shadow stretched out before her in the light of golden hour, breathing in the scent of live oak and green grass, a muted roar of traffic rumbling across the overpass eight hundred feet away.
Her grandparents’ health, her mother’s happiness, the longevity of her brand-new relationship, the state of the country, the fate of the world—the potential for future distress is endless.
But in this moment, she is happy for her colleagues and she is happy for herself. In this moment she trusts in the kindness of others and the kindness of the universe. In this moment she does not need anything beyond the air she is breathing and the peace in her heart.
In this moment, she has a wonderful life.