Twelve Angry Librarians

Time to focus on the job the college was paying me to do. I had a stack of invoices to approve, and I might as well get on with it. I hated dealing with invoices and spreadsheets, though I had done so years ago. Staring at the stack of paper on my desk, I wondered again why I was tempted to apply to have this job on a permanent basis.

After I finished with the invoices—signing them and checking their amounts against the spreadsheets—I glanced at my webmail account, still open on the browser.

I had a new message. Marisue Pickard had replied to my e-mail.

Charlie! Great hearing from you. Of course Randi and I would love to have dinner with you. Lots of things to catch up about, and we want to hear all about that cat of yours. He sounds adorable. A friend of mine has a Maine Coon, and she’s the sweetest thing. How about dinner on Friday night? That should work for both of us. Love, Marisue

Two smiley face icons followed her name.

Another e-mail, again from Marisue, appeared in my inbox.

Re: the matter of GF, why would you even want to think about that creep? Keep your mind clean. Randi and I have a few things we could tell you. Maybe, with enough wine at dinner, we will.

That was intriguing, I thought. There was obviously dirt, and I didn’t think I’d have to ply Marisue and Randi with much wine before they started dishing on Gavin Fong.

I shut down the browser and checked my work e-mail.

Three new messages, and one of them came from Gavin Fong. Why on earth was he e-mailing me? Probably something to do with the job, I supposed.

I made a face at the screen and clicked on his message to open it.

Dear Charlie, been a long time, hasn’t it? Easy to forget certain things after all these years, but yet, some things do tend to stick with you. I have absolutely clear memories of you and our interactions—one in particular. We’ll have to chat about it when I arrive in Athena. I’m coming in early to have a look around your campus. I’ll drop by your office—which I hope will soon be my office. I’m ready to get out of this hick town to a school with the kind of reputation Athena College has. I’m sure I can count on your support, right? You certainly wouldn’t want to derail my chances, I’m sure. Especially once we’ve had a chance to discuss old times, eh?

The message ended with the standard professional institutional signature.

Fong’s message both irritated and confused me. I wasn’t surprised by the sheer gall of his words. They were pure Gavin Fong. His assumption that I would support his candidacy for the position was ludicrous. As for talking over old times, I couldn’t remember any that he and I had shared that were worth discussing.

What the heck was he hinting at? His e-mail could be interpreted as blackmail. Or was it extortion? But what could he possibly have to use as ammunition to force me to support him for this job?

I mulled this over for a few minutes, thinking back to the events of over twenty-five years ago. I had tried to keep out of his way as much as possible, because in those days I hadn’t yet learned to manage my temper effectively. My late wife, Jackie, whom I married right after graduation from Athena College, helped me learn to hold back and not pop off without thinking about what I was saying or doing.

Jackie . . . I frowned. Something about Jackie, me, and Gavin Fong. What was it?

Then the memory came flooding back, and I felt my stomach twist into a knot.

FOUR

I hated recalling the stupid things I did in my youth because of my quick temper. I prided myself on the fact that I had matured enough to master my feelings before I turned thirty. I still got angry on occasion, as did most human beings. The difference was, I could keep that anger from erupting into intemperate speech or action—almost all the time.

In my early twenties, however, I had not yet learned the lessons I needed to learn. The incident with Gavin Fong gave me one of those lessons, and my stomach knotted with embarrassment from simply recalling what happened.

While I worked on my master’s degree in library science, my wife, Jackie, worked on a master’s degree in history part-time. She taught as a substitute in the local public school system to help offset expenses not covered by our savings, student loans, and my own part-time job at the university library. I spent every day on campus while Jackie attended classes twice a week. On the days she came to campus, we lunched together.

The incident with Gavin Fong occurred on one such day. I was running late that day, and by the time I reached the student union where we met, I found Jackie in conversation with Gavin Fong. He had pestered her with his attentions before, but in the past I had been able to laugh it off. I knew Jackie found him amusing, in a creepy sort of way, and he posed no threat to our marriage. That day, as I approached the table in the crowded room, I saw him put his hand on her arm and pull her toward him. She tried to jerk her arm away, but he held on.