the package part 3
“The novel has a particular technical feature; it passes from mind to mind,
showing us the world as a consciousness moves through it...”
about _ “War and Peace”
An hour later, I reach the library and walk in. I sigh with relief. It’s so much cooler here. I wipe the sweat from my forehead, and head for the classic literature and search for the letter T, trying to find Leo Tolstoy. I start with the higher shelves in case the books are messed up, but everything seems in order, so I look down. I feel my eyebrows furrow as my eyes scan the books. Finally, I see it, almost on the bottom shelf. It’s a thick paperback but in good condition. Probably because people don’t read as much as they used to. I take it out and stare at for a moment as if the ordinary looking thing could somehow hold the secrets to the universe. I open it and flick through the pages - It doesn’t. No secrets. I feel like an idiot for even doing this, but at the same time; I feel like there could really be some magic in here.
I move to the reception desk. I see a tall, slim woman standing there. She has black hair pinned up on her head, in an appropriate fashion, perfect for work. I come closer and see that she is wearing a purple sweater, on top of her white, crisp shirt. But wears jeans as well, which make a rather interesting contrast to the boring top. She sees me and smiles. I think she could be in her mid-thirties.
Can I help you with anything?
She stares at my hand and notices the book, so I hand it to her.
I just want to borrow this book.
Do you have a card?
Yes.
I give it to her, and she scans it, and then the book. She looks at the title and smiles again.
Pleasure or necessity?
She asks and points to the book.
We will see, I guess. A friend asks me for it.
Oh, I see. Make sure she treats it right. It’s a very important book in here.
I look doubtful at the cheap paperback and then I at her. She has a strange gleam in her eyes.
How did you know it was for a girl?
When you live long enough and work here, you just now.
Oh... I see.
The way she talks is as if she was at least eighty, when in fact she can’t be more than 35, or 36 tops. For a short moment, I think, I should actually ask for permission to leave. My brain telling me that otherwise, she might not let me get out of here. I quickly shake those thoughts away.
Thank you.
Of course, that’s why I am here. Be sure to come again, Freddy.
I freeze, and my heart starts to beat with speed. I can feel my cheeks start to burn. She sends me a sly smile.
It was on your library card.
I breathe out, nod, and just leave the building as fast as I can, as if the whole place was about to be swallowed up.
____________
I take a taxi to the bus station. The heat wave messing with my already confused, not so logical thinking. I consider all the things that happened up to this point, and I can’t stop feeling shocked. I quit my job. I’m following some ridiculous instruction list. I’m... Hmm, well I’m having the best time I have had in months. I feel the excitement mixing with disbelieve. Allyson. I can’t help myself to stop thinking about her. The electricity from her touch. Her absurd shoes. Her attitude. How a new envelope seemed to just appear in her hand, as if from thin air.
The taxi stops, I pay the guy and step out into the heat. It’s like walking on a blazing pan. I swallow, my mouth already parched. I head to the registers and stand in a long line. After a while, I am the first one and can see a bored looking guy sitting there, his face almost attached to the fan. He looks like he really dislikes his job right now. He looks up.
Yes?
Yes, hello. I would like to buy a ticket. One way.
Of course. Which city?
The guy stares me, irritated that he even had to ask. Wow, I really got those stares a lot, but it was almost impossible to think in this weather. That, plus my brain kept sending me alarms to abort. I ignored those.
One ticket to Albuquerque, New Mexico.
What time and day?
Uhm, it’s for today (I think). When is the next bus leaving?
It leaves in about two hours. 3:15 to be exact. The bus makes longer stops at Los Angeles station, Phoenix, Greyhound station, and then stops at Albuquerque. The ride should take about 23 hours, but that depends on the traffic.
Alright, I’ll take it.
That will be S138,60, sir.
I open my eyes wider. Not the most optimistic option for a guy, that just quit his job. I sigh and pay. I take the ticket and head to buy water. And then I stop when something catches my attention. As if I heard someone call my name, yet no one really did. I look up.
It’s a young woman, maybe still in her late teens. She is wearing a pair of black, ripped jeans; an oversized, faded, blue shirt and a blouse wrapped around her waist. She carries an old backpack on her right shoulder and a big bag on the other. The bag is filled up, stuff threatening to overflow from it at any minute. But that’s not why she caught my attention. It’s the baby that she is nursing in her arms. She walks fast stumping her feet, trying to calm a small infant. It’s wrapped in a blue blanket, so I guess it might be a baby boy. Though I could be wrong, I often am.
I look at her. She seems to be stressed out by something, but I don’t think it’s to do only with the crying baby. That look in her eyes - as if she is leaving something behind. Running away. I stare at her face this time. How old could she really be? 19, 18, less than that? She looks tired like she hasn’t slept in a long while. Then my eyes fall down on the infant. I guess that’s just how it is for young mothers. The babies waking up a couple of times in the night, needing our undying attention. Helpless and defenseless, only wanting our love and care. I shake my head. I had a task to fill and she was the first one I saw. Or was it the baby?
I shake my head again to snap out of it and head her way with some hesitance. I reach her in a few seconds and she looks up at me distracted. As if she wasn’t sure why she was even here. She looks confused and then her expression changes. It’s the motherhood in her kicking in. She holds the baby tighter and stares at me suspiciously. As if I was only there to snatch the infant from her arms and never come back. I can’t really blame her. I see the little one stir and cry again. The mother tries to calm him down by rocking it. Back and forth, back and forth. And as she does it, a little plastic toy falls out.
I have a closer look at it. It’s a rattle in the shape of a smiling bear. I pick it up and hand it to her. She stares at me as if I was carrying some kind of virus. I sigh and put it on a seat behind her. Her expression changes like she suddenly realized that she was doing something wrong. She takes the rattle and wants to put it back in the bag, but the baby seems to be interested in it. So she wipes it against her blouse and gives it to him. The baby starts to make a funny noise, seeming to enjoy the toy.
Sorry about that. I’m just tired. Thanks for picking it up. Most people just ignore a crying baby and suddenly go deaf.
No problem. I just came up to ask you something.
Okay?
Do you need to be somewhere?
Excuse me?
I don’t mean anything bad. Was just curious if you are traveling far. Maybe if you needed some help with getting on a bus with the baby. I don’t mean to intrude.
Oh, uhm... yeah, I need to get somewhere, but I just don’t know if I have enough money for it.
Where do you need to be? Don’t worry, I am not some kind of creep. If you want I can even step away farther.
I smile, trying to make the situation less tense. To prove my point, I step back and lift my hands, so she can see them. She eyes me for a moment but then seems to relax a bit. She exhales.
Okay, I need to get to Albuquerque, New Mexico. It’s where my family is. I can’t stay here. The father of the baby is just...
She doesn’t finish but looks around nervously as if something was waiting to get her. Or someone, depending on what she just said. She was running away from him.
I see.
I clear my throat, nervous now. I take out the ticket from my back pocket and hand her the ticket.
For you.
I see her take it slowly and look and what’s written on it. Her eyes grow wider like they are ready to pop out at any moment. She steps back but doesn’t give the ticket back.
I don’t follow.
I was said to give this to you. A young woman with a little baby boy. Black backpack and a bag for the baby. No questions asked.
Are you serious?
Very much so.
Is this a joke?
No, I was being ordered to do so.
By whom?
She still doesn’t look like she believes me.
I don’t think that I should tell.
If you won’t tell me, I am not taking it.
She says with power, but her fingers tighten on the ticket. Like she wants to run away with it but is unsure.
Alright, by a girl. A little blond with an attitude, and strange taste for shoes. She said her name was Allyson.
And you just did what she told you?
Yes, call me weird (I shrug my shoulders) Anyway, the ticket is yours. I can’t take it back.
I start to leave but she stops me, her hand on my arm, It’s a tight grip. I look at her surprised, at the same time I notice that the baby is sleeping. I smile at it. Then my eyes wander back to the girl. I see tears in her eyes, and it’s my turn to look embarrassed.
Thank you. I don’t understand really... but thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me (her voice breaks). And now I can afford the baby formula and some food for me. It’s a long ride to Albuquerque.
Well... you’ re welcome. Glad that I could help.
She smiles at me and wipes away her tears. She heads for the little shop next to the bus station. And I just keep smiling. I actually did something good. I take out the crumpled paper from my other back pocket. I look at the list as my stomach grumbles. I smile, it’s time to eat something. And in two days, I will be eating a very special lunch at Dave’s Taco Shop. I leave the bus station, buy myself a bottle of water, and wonder what will happen next.
__________
And now part 4
https://theprose.com/post/244297/the-package-part-4
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And for those who want to read part 1 and 2.