This turned into the perfect job for me. They had called it "research assistant," and I'd figured I'd sit in a cube under fluorescent lights searching the Internet for stuff, but the job actually required me to spend my evenings at the university library, looking through actual books and journals -- usually old stuff that was not digitized yet -- making copies and taking notes. And that meant I did not have people around me, nobody giving me shit, no stupid stories about what you did last night or how you hate the boss or this-and-that co-worker, no meetings.
They even got me a carrel on the fourth floor. I don't know how you pay for these things but it must have been cheap, way back in the corner, it was on the far end from the elevator, near a little window with spider webs on it. At some times of year a little light came in for the first hour or two I was there. I was down at the end of the aisle between books about pre-Civil War American diet and garment-making among Eastern North American indigenous people. In all my time there, I never saw one person looking for a book on that row.
At the far end of the aisle I had a narrow view of several feet of a table that ran most of the length of the room. There were wooden chairs, and occasionally a student would sit at the table on the fourth floor, hiding from their peers, studying where nobody would think to look for them. I could see a few seats from my carrel, and occasionally I would see who was at the table when I ventured out to grab an armload of bound volumes and take them back and get lost in them. I was perfectly secluded.
There were a few regular characters who studied there, and as I was only a couple of years older than them we got to know each other. It wasn't a social scene by any means, but we knew each other's names and said hi. They were the serious students, generally, mostly upperclassmen.
One "cute couple" used to come in and sit together at the long table. They tended toward my end because I was farthest from the entrance and from the stairs, and they liked to cuddle and even make out sometimes when it was quiet there, though they mostly studied quite seriously. Rollie was basically a nerd, and so we got along. He was an engineering major and was doing well in school, and he could be pretty funny but we agreed tacitly not to waste a lot of time socializing. And Jenny was a doll. I figured she was probably half-Asian, with big almond-shaped eyes and a glowing tan complexion. I think she might have been a little embarrassed by the body God gave her, and tried to disguise it in baggy t-shirts and shorts, but there was only so much she could do. As I understood it these two were a long-term item, lived separately but expected to marry someday, and they both considered their school work as a higher priority than their relationship.
They usually came in together, but maybe once a week I would see one or the other of them there alone. This was sometimes a little uncomfortable for me, because actually I didn't want to get to know either of them that well, and it was easier to small-talk superficially when they were together. I was good at this job, happy in my own thoughts, I had no friends and that was by intention. Honestly, I don't give a fuck about people, even people I "like."
One evening I was working and Rollie came in by himself. I could see him at the end of my aisle and it was clear that something was bothering him. He normally read carefully, taking lots of notes, but this evening he was staring into space a lot, tapping his fingers.
I stopped by on my way into the stacks. "How ya doing, man?"
"I don't know," he said. "I'm okay."
"Something going on?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe."
"'Sup?"
"Jenny."
"I see." I didn't want to pry, and didn't want to get into his shit, if you know what I mean. They seemed like nice kids, I'd let them work it out, whatever it was.
He laughed at me. "No you don't."
I had to laugh too. "Good point. What's up with Jenny?"
"Well she is being very difficult. My old girlfriend is in town, and Jenny is kind of throwing a fit about it."
"Yeah, I get it. Have you seen this girlfriend?"
He looked down. "Yeah, a couple times."
"Oh well no wonder she's upset."
"Yeah." He looked guiltier than I had been assuming.
"Did something 'happen' with this old girlfriend?" I asked him.
"Yeah, well, that's the problem."
"Wow, man, that doesn't sound real smart."
"Tell me about it," he said, sadly. "Though, you know, I guess I needed to do that."
"Was it worth doing?"
He looked at me with a mournful eye. "Fuck yeah," he said.
"I see," I said. I totally understood. Sometimes you have to totally fuck up your life. As they say, in the end it isn't the things you did that you regret, it's the things you didn't do.
"So what's going to happen?"
"I don't know," he said. "Jenny is plenty mad. Well not just mad, she's re-thinking this whole thing."
"Yeah, man," I said. "I bet."
The next night they came in together, as usual, but the vibes were definitely different. I could see them down the aisle, sitting together like usual, but they were obviously not working as hard as usual, not smiling, definitely nothing like the usual flirting and teasing they did between them.
I needed some journals, and passed their spot. "Hey, how you guys doing?"
They looked at me. I thought somebody would at least say, "Okay," but that didn't happen. Finally Rollie said, "We're doing all right, I guess." Jenny was looking down. I waited.
Finally she looked up. "We're fine," she said.
This probably didn't mean anything but I noticed she had some makeup on her eyes. At first I wasn't sure what the difference was, but I think that was it. She just looked prettier than usual. When she looked at me I felt a response that was almost physical.
"Cool," I said, and after a few more awkward seconds I meandered off toward the architectural journals from fifty years ago.
It didn't get any better through the week. They came in, they sat there, no talking, no touching, no kissing or even smiling at each other.
After a few days Jenny came in by herself. And listen, I can't exactly say what was different, but she was different. She had on the usual shorts and t-shirt but ... not "the usual" shorts, and not the usual t-shirt, I don't think. Her shorts were not booty shorts or whatever they call them, they were just snug summer-type shorts and they fit her well, and she looked real good walking to her seat. And the t-shirt, I don't know how they do this, but it hung off her shoulder, and she had it tied in a little knot at her tummy, so her belly-button showed a little bit. In general, I'd have to say she looked like she always does, but she didn't. Also, her eyes were beautiful and she had some lipstick on, and who knows what else.
I watched her walk to the table; she did not look over at me. She pulled out her chair and sat down and opened her book and got to work. That t-shirt kept slipping off her shoulder, and it occurred to me that I was not seeing any bra strap under it, but I don't know how those things work. There was just something about her, and now I was the one who was not getting anything done, sitting at my carrel watching her out of the corner of my eye.
I needed to walk past her to get a book, so I slowed down and she looked up. "Oh hey Jenny," I said, as if I had not noticed her earlier. "Where's your other half?"
She looked for a fraction of a second like she might cry, but she smiled instead and said, "Oh, he couldn't make it tonight. I'm on my own."
"Oh, okay," I said. I should have kept walking but I waited.
Finally she said, "Did he tell you what happened?"
This is a test, of course. Maybe he told her about talking to me, and maybe he didn't. And if he didn't then I should keep my mouth shut. I was walking a fine line here. "He said there was some issue between the two of you."
"Issue, huh?"
