A Librarian's Tale

Andrew was a quiet man who had worked as a librarian for many years. He was married, then divorced, then remarried, with no children of his own. He mostly kept to himself, only really reprimanding students when their volume grew too loud as they spoke about their late night wanderings around campus and beyond. He had taken the job of a local campus librarian four years ago to work closer to home in an attempt to spend more time with his wife. Things weren’t going well.

He was thinking about her as he pitter-pattered around the library. They had gotten along so well when they met. She laughed at all his jokes, and they would read together, often the same book, so that they could discuss the storyline in earnest before heading to bed, where they wouldn’t sleep for at least an hour…

Andrew had a routine. He checked the third floor for students, then worked his way down to the first floor. He would put back any textbooks that were left out, borrow a novel from the extensive fiction section, and do a walk through to see that everything was in order. He locked the back door first, then the front. He locked the door from the inside of the library. He shut off the universal light switch before leaving.

Today, for whatever reason, he stopped by the fiction section before heading to the third floor. He spotted a small book with a sleek black cover, some sort of romance-action novel. He normally didn’t like romance novels, but this one had a particularly interesting cover and a smooth binding, which was unusual in a library where hundreds of students filtered in and out every day. This seemed like the kind of book his wife would enjoy. His mind wandered fleetingly to the days when they would read together. If only those days would return.

As he turned to return the book to its spot on the shelf, he was shocked to find another copy right where he had just grabbed the copy in his hands. He took it out and examined it; it was indeed the same book, with a black cover, and a smooth spine. He looked back at the empty spot on the bookshelf. He barely registered that there was really only enough room for one book where he had taken two. He instead focused on his plans for the night: he would bring the books home to his wife. They would read them together. Then they would go to bed.

Andrew packed the books away carefully in his knapsack. He didn’t want to break the spines or scratch the covers. He swept his eyes across the first floor of the library quickly. There were no students. The library was silent. No one would’ve walked up all those stairs to the third floor on a Sunday (which every staff member knew was hangover day). He checked his watch. If he left now, he could make the bus and get home faster…

Andrew, for the first time in four years, skipped the rest of his routine.

When Andrew got home, he excitedly told his wife about his findings, but when he went to procure both books, he only found one battered and bruised copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird.” He turned his knapsack inside out, but that was the only book in it. His wife laughed, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. It was a genuine one. They went to bed early that night.

The next morning, Andrew woke up early. He felt good, better than he had in weeks. His wife was still asleep when he crept into the kitchen. He made himself a cup of coffee but hesitated before taking a scone. It was the last one. He made a decision, and scrawled a note, which he left next to the scone; Enjoy my dear!

Andrew whistled on his walk. He arrived at the library a few minutes early. He unlocked the door and scanned his card, wondering whether or not he’d have a moment to nick a bagel from the student cafeteria…

“FINALLY.”

Andrew jumped. A small, dark-haired college student glared up at him. Andrew blinked. “How did you get in here? They’re supposed to let me know when they lend out the keys-”

“YOU locked me in here last night.” they snapped.

Andrew felt his face grow warm. His hands started to shake. This...this had never happened. “I checked; I always check…” he trailed off. He hadn’t checked last night. Not on the third floor.

“I was on the third floor. It’s the only quiet place in this library, where you won’t be disturbed. I didn’t realize that studying there also meant you couldn’t LEAVE the library.” they crossed their arms in indignation.

Andrew’s throat was dry. “I must have missed you. I am so sorry. Why didn’t you call anyone? Someone over in the main building would have opened up the doors for you.”

The student shifted uncomfortably. “My phone had died. And... honestly, the chair I was in was so comfortable...I’m not sure why I didn’t just call.”

Andrew and the student stood in uncomfortable silence, both avoiding the other’s eyes.

“Anyway, I just wanted to return this book. I no longer have any use for it.”

Andrew blinked, looking at the sleek black cover of the book that so resembled the one (or two?) he had seen yesterday. He flipped to the inside cover, where he saw the familiar title and description. “Hey, where did you…?” The student was gone. They must have walked around him while he was looking at the book. Andrew shook his head and walked over to his desk. Most peculiar.

Andrew tried to scan the book. He tried to type in the code. He tried to look it up by title and by section. He couldn’t find any information on the damned little book! Andrew flipped through the pages, looking for something, anything to indicate where the book came from or where it should go. On the second to last page, he saw a small, intricate stamp. It was so tiny that he almost missed it. It read “The Librarian’s Collective.”

The Librarian’s Collective? Andrew had never heard of it before but felt that he should have. He was a librarian after all.

Andrew spent his free moments googling “The Librarian’s Collective” to no avail. “The Radical Librarians Collective,” The Library Collective,” and several personal blogs came up, but none of them felt quite right.

Andrew found a quiet moment towards the end of his day to thumb through the book once more. He found a small receipt between pages 43 and 44:

Please return to:

The Librarian’s Collective

34 West Felton St. Apt 6F

Andrew looked up the address on a library computer; it wasn’t too far away.

Andrew gathered his things and checked the library as usual, carefully examining every corner of the third floor. When he was satisfied, he locked up, and called his wife. He would be home a little late today.

It was a cold night. Andrew wrapped his coat tighter around him as he waited for the bus. He briefly wondered if this was a good idea. Following an address for a collective with no online presence all because of a stupid little black book? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bus doors opening, and he hastily clambered inside.

Twenty minutes later, Andrew stepped off the bus. He was no surer of his decision than he had been before. He walked down the long unfamiliar block, which narrowed and curved at the end. He stood in front of an ordinary looking door with smart black letters: 34. Andrew took in a sharp breath and rang the doorbell. Almost as soon as his frozen finger touched the bell, the door buzzed, beckoning him in. The warmth swallowed him up.

There was no elevator, and Andrew was forced to walk up the narrow staircase. The building seemed old. The paint in the hallways was peeling, and the thick maroon carpeting smelled. Andrew stepped down the hallway past 6C, 6D, 6E…

Apartment 6F had a sleek black door, similar to the book in his bag. In ornate, gold lettering, read the words: Apt. 6F The Librarian’s Collective. Andrew mustered up all of his courage and knocked on the door.

The door opened to reveal a tall skinny woman with a tight bun. She surveyed Andrew with interest.

“I don’t believe we’ve met…?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not a member here.”

The woman pursed her lips, then disappeared behind the door. Another woman appeared, similar to the first, only with slightly different hair.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Andrew. I’m so sorry to intrude.” Andrew took the book out of his bag. The woman’s eyes widened. She opened the door and gestured for Andrew to take a seat. Andrew sat and both women disappeared behind a velvety black curtain. After a moment, another similar-looking woman appeared from behind the curtain.

“Hello Andrew. I’ve heard you are here to return a book.”

Andrew stood up and held out the book. The woman took it wordlessly and opened it up, examining the pages and covers with the utmost care.

“It seems in good condition. Thank you for taking care of this for us, and for returning it to its rightful home. It’s been a while since we’ve seen this book.” She held out a thick manilla envelope, which Andrew took, confused. “This is for your trouble. We truly appreciate your assistance.” Andrew opened the envelope and his eyes bulged. He had never seen this much money in one place.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t possibly take this; I only found this book and returned it.” He was stuttering. The woman waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter who returns the book, so long as the book is returned. Enjoy your evening.” She disappeared behind the black curtain, leaving Andrew alone. He stood there shaking. He tried to call out, but he didn’t know the women’s names. Eventually, he put the envelope in his bag and left. He called a cab; he didn’t feel safe taking the bus with so much money.

Andrew got home really late. His wife didn’t seem angry, just disappointed. She thanked him for the scone, and then went back to her computer. He wanted to tell her about the book, and the student, and the money, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He placed the envelope in his desk and went to bed.

The next morning, Andrew woke up late. He had forgotten to set his alarm and had to run to work. He arrived in a huff; there were already a few students waiting at the door. He didn’t have a break until lunch time, during which he visited the security desk in the neighboring building.

“I was wondering if you have any footage from the library from yesterday morning,” He asked. The security guard nodded, typing and scrolling on his computer, then frowned. There didn’t seem to be much footage from the library yesterday. The cameras must have been down. A chill went down Andrew’s spine. “Can you check the time I swiped in yesterday?” The security guard typed. “It says here you didn’t swipe in.” Andrew frowned and nodded. He must have forgotten.

Andrew got home early that night. His wife handed him his mail. There was a thick yellow envelope. His heart skipped a beat as he opened it up. Inside was a small wrapped package and a short note “Thank you again for your assistance.” There was no signature. Andrew opened the small package. There were two small matching journals.

Andrew gave his wife one of the journals and told her that he received a bonus from work. He suggested that they each write in their journal before bed. She agreed and they fell into companionable silence.

Andrew never did tell her the full story.