Evil Smoke from Her Lungs

Just over three million acres in California have burned. More in Oregon and Washington state. The smoke drifts like a lazy cloud up and over the land. Everything smells like a barbeque at that uncle's house, the one that also knows exactly how much tannerite costs with tax down at the Guns and Go.

     I picked up the circ desk phone and dialed the first number. The circulation librarian should be the first to know.

     "Hello?" Brenda said.

     I said, "Hey, Brenda. Just calling to tell you the library will be closed today."

     "Oh my word, why?"

     I looked out the window. I could see about two hundred feet. Beyond that was a grey fog with a lone figure walking slow and deliberate. "Because of all the wildfire smoke. It's unhealthy."

     "Well, that's just hogwash. We can do okay."

     "I pulled out the filter for the HVAC. It stuck to the vent it had so much gunk on it. Can you call the pages and let them know?"

     Brenda sighed a sigh that makes children get quiet. "Okay, sure. I'll do that then I guess I'll just mow the lawn today. Thanks."

     "That's probably not a good idea. You should…" but she hung up.

     I called Dave. He picked up on the sixth ring, saying, "We closed?"

     "Yeah," I said.

     "You could have texted. I'll check the system from here, make sure and update the website. See you when I see you," Dave said and hung up the phone. A moment later I get a text from him of a grey cloud and wind with a smiley face in shades.

     Jamie's number was next. The last department head. The one I dreaded calling because she will already be on the way or talk for a half an hour. I dialed the children's librarians number.

     Sound exploded from the other side of the library. I thought it was Avril Lavigne, that song about how she's so whatever. I put the handset on the desk and follow the music.

     I found Jamie climbing down a ladder. She has hung a banner reading "Winter Summer Reading Is Cool." Two kids and an old man sit in front of an open refrigerator reading a book.

     "What are you doing here?" I asked.

     Jamie jumped off the last two rungs. She went to her desk and silenced her phone. "You were calling, boss?" she said through a mask with a picture of Winnie the Pooh's mouth. I saw the redness in her eyes as they smiled at me.

     "We're closed. Who's that banner for?" I said.

     Jamie turned and followed my gaze. She shrugged. "Might as well hope."

     I decided to not even bother talking about the naming of the Winter Summer Reading Program. I said, "We're closing down today because of the smoke."

     "No way. That sucks. I wish I had known before I came all the way down here," she said.

     "Shifts don't even start for another two hours."

     "Yeah, but you know me."

     "Okay. Head home and plan on being out tomorrow, too. I'll send you a text, but I have to meet with the board first for two days in a row."

     Jamie put a hand on my shoulder. "You truly have the worst job."

     Someone knocked on the door. The shape had grown closer through the smoke. A small woman, elderly, a hand the only thing blocking out the evil smoke from her lungs. She held up a bag of books. "I need a receipt," she yelled through her hand and the smoke and the glass.

     Jamie and I said at the same time, "Not it."