The Lending Library

by Aliza Fogelson

I was now holding the book innocently in my hands,

like a normal library-goer. Which I was. Except for my overwhelmingly passionate desire to read books and reread them, hold them, surround myself with them, and yes . . . sometimes even smell them. It wasn’t just the heady scent of glue in the spine. It was also the scent of the pages—timeworn or slicked with new ink—and the old cloth cases, how the linen had aged. The smell of imagination and escape.

“There’s no secret. Whenever I can, I do a lot of talking with the subjects before we start. I guess I just look at what’s really there instead of what I want to see or what the subject wants me to see.”

did she have any idea of the burning urgency of reading for a book-loving child, how two weeks was a complete eternity without a new book to dive into?

The reality was Daniel G was very interested in me but not as interested as he was in Daniel G.

It was as if a kitchen timer had been set and I could hear its ticking. Stop with the pity party,

As much as I loved seeing him regularly, the little reflection and distance I’d gotten over recent weeks made me think it might be helpful if Shep didn’t come to the library quite so often. That and the fact that during our weekend together, Maddie had said the exact words, “Maybe it might be helpful if Shep didn’t come to the library quite so often.”

These kids obviously had access to films that I hadn’t at their age. Or nudist colonies.

It was clearly the work of a child who’d grown up with show business parents and had inhaled a lot of glitter. I loved it.

Except that was about as likely as being the victim of a land shark attack.

To be extra careful, I parked my car down the street, hopped the fence over the neighbor’s yard, and slunk around the back of Mackie and Jeff’s house. I

‘Thank God you finally asked me. I was afraid I was going to run out of things to say.’

“Jesus,” Maddie said, pawing through the cabinet under the TV. “It’s like the Romantic Comedy Library of Congress in here.”

It’s as though you’re drugging yourself with other people’s happy endings.”

“I will strangle him with his tie” and “I will fill his balls with paper clips.”