(Author’s note: This is the first part of a short story. I still haven’t written end of it. I won’t know what happens until you do. Won’t that be exciting!)
Alphine Beauregard spent another day going through new boxes of library books and cataloguing them. Occasionally she had to take time out to answer the same old questions about where to find books about every topic. Looking at her watch, Alphine saw she had ten minutes before closing, just enough time to visit her favorite aisle—Victorian vampire romance novels.
Discretely mounting the stairs to the second floor and heading to the furthest dusty back corner of the French Quarter branch of the New Orleans Library, Alphine sought to inhale the freedom found in dangerous love literature. She felt her lungs choked by the total emptiness of her cowardly life.
Creaking rusty book cart wheels made her look down the long shadowy aisle at Ralph who pushed a new pile of Victorian vampire romance novels her way. Ralph, who probably topped out at a six-foot and a couple of inches but only weighed at most one hundred fifty pounds, kept his eyes down.
“Sorry to be in your way. Got another load of books to shelve,” he whispered.
“Didn’t you realize it’s quitting time?” she asked nervously.
The crypt silence of the library made their conversation seem conspiratorial, forbidden. Alphine’s breath quickened and her cheeks flushed. At each of their chance encounters she tried to find out more about him. What she had already learned about him intrigued her. Ralph recently finished a four-year enlistment in the Army, serving two tours in Afghanistan. Alphine detected a secret anguish in his face.
“I just feel bad if I’m not actually working right up to five o’clock,” he explained as he picked up a couple of books to put on the shelf right over Alphine’s head. “Excuse me.”
She did not move much, only enough for him to position the books where they belonged. Alphine enjoyed sensing his physical presence–the heat of Ralph’s tall, lean body and the scent of his cologne. The fragrance was nothing special but at this moment it made her mind fog. She looked up into his dark eyes partially concealed by a shock of black hair.
“Do you like to read this stuff?” he asked.
“What stuff”
“This stuff. You know, vampires.”
“It passes the evening.” She shrugged. “What do you read?”
“Science fiction, fantasy, you know stuff like Tolkien. Marvel Comics. I know that sounds dumb.”
No, it’s not dumb at all. It’s like vampires. Nothing like real life, which can be so boring. She remained mute. Her thoughts choked somewhere in the back of her throat.
”I like to read about war in places that don’t really exist. I don’t want to think about real people in a real war in ugly countries that really do exist.”
He knew. Real life wasn’t boring. It was frightening. The fact he knew the truth excited Alphine in ways she could not comprehend. Her hand went to her neck, her thin, delicate, pale neck.
“Gotta get back to work,” he muttered and pushed the cart down the aisle and disappeared.
She had to confess just being close to Ralph made her tremble. Alphine inspected the stack of books, pulling one out to look at the cover of a virile vampire leaning into the neck of a nubile young woman. Ralph’s words about real people in real war echoed in her mind, making the novel in her hand seem inconsequential. Ralph, with his few soft-spoken words, tore away the fantasy world she read about. Her own life was too ordinary, too safe. Ralph, without knowing it, confirmed what she feared–her life had always been and probably always would be tepid, dry, stale.