IGMS Issue 44 by IGMS

Author:IGMS
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Hatrack River Enterprises
Published: 2015-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

I need to say something about Carla here, too. Mab has not answered all my questions about her; about the things she was able to do. She says only this: "I grow old, and all stories have a beginning."

Make of it what you will.

I don't think Mab sent her. That might have been the only part of this story left to chance.

This was a college town, and there was something that everyone joked about, but they were sort of serious too: you came to school here -- or at least, lots of us did -- hoping to leave married. In lots of ways it was that type of college: small, denominational, traditional. It was a bit embarrassing sometimes how hopefully parents would scan the crowds at orientation.

Carla wasn't one of the girls from campus. She worked at a gas station several blocks from school, along the route I walked or rode my bike each day. I think she had taken classes on campus for a semester or two, but she hadn't stayed.

She worked the night shift. I first became aware of her when I went in one evening to ask about the air machine. I was on my way home, and one of the tires on my bike was again low. She had to come out and show me the button.

I say the gas station was on my way to and from school, but it was actually along one of many potential routes. After that evening, I went that way every time. I started trying to think of reasons to stop. I bought candy bars. I wished I had a car to get gas. Finally I stopped buying anything and would just go in to see her. When I stayed late on campus there was usually no one else at the station, so I'd sit at the counter and we'd talk.

I eventually found out that she was engaged to a guy named Dan. He never came around though, and for some reason the engagement seemed irrelevant.

One evening I stayed until she got off work, which was close to midnight. I volunteered to walk her home. She didn't live far from the station so she didn't drive to work. She said fine, but she first needed to stop by the library. I assumed she needed to drop a book off in the after-hours return.

When we got there she reached into the satchel she carried and pulled out a wrench. There were two metal lions flanking the library's doors, some rather pathetic echo of the lions at certain, more famous, public libraries. The lions stood with their paws fixed by huge bolts to cement pedestals. It was to these that Carla applied the wrench, her small arms straining.

"What are you doing?" The library entrance was not in any way secluded. We were standing in front of a well-lit parking lot beside the main street downtown. Cars passed every few moments.

She didn't say anything, just glanced at me with one raised eyebrow as if to ask why I wasn't helping.

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