Forgot How to be Tender
"So you can have a damn art class while I can't come in and check on the Wall Street Journal?" Old man Anchor said.
The children's librarian held a hand over her eyes to block the rays of the sunset behind the old man. "The art class is a special program from outside the library."
"Where's the Journal come from? Huh? Y'all print it out back?"
"As we told you last week, we put a hold on all print subscriptions when we closed."
"Closed." Anchor spat a thick glob in the bushes by the curbside table. "I pay your salary with my taxes. You ain't serving shit. Just standing behind this table with your books."
"Would you like to check out a book? Or I can tell you how to access the Wall Street Journal online?" the children's librarian said.
"Ain't got no online. You think I can pay for a computer after they take out all those taxes and pay for nothing you give me?"
The children's librarian summoned visions of children. Squeals of books at curbside. Little faces staring out from a computer screen. Small masks on little faces over bright eyes while being read to on the library lawn over the summer. As the sun dipped below the horizon, she could see the old man more clear.
"Where is your mask, Mr. Anchor?" The children's librarian said.
He spat again. "I got that shot. Been vaccinated."
"I still need you to wear a mask for us at the table. Sorry, sir."
"Oh, sure. Useless. I hope they close this whole place down. Never did nothing for me," the old man said.
"You have been vaccinated?" a woman said.
The old man and the children's librarian turned to find a woman standing near the table. The art teacher stood in dark maroon. She wore a shawl over her black hair and a mask over her nose and mouth. She had wrapped her body in deep red folds. The children's librarian found herself staring at the grey of the woman's eyes, how they picked up the red and turned them a warm purple.
"Who're you?" the old man said.
"Mr. Anchor, this is the art teacher. Karryn…" The children's librarian paused, not knowing the art teacher's last name.
The art teacher did not give it. She only reached out a hand with long manicured nails. "Charmed, Mr. Anchor."
The old man's face screwed up. But he took her hand in a light grip. The children's librarian thought he would bend down to kiss it. His shoulders slumped and his face relaxed into a gentle smile. The librarian wondered how long it had been that someone had touched him.
"Nice to meet you," he said in a low tone. Face to face, the world seemed to melt away. The children's librarian wanted to leave feeling like something intimate was going on.
"So you have been vaccinated?" the art teacher said.
"Second shot later today," he said.
"So healthy and strong. Smart, too, reading the Wall Street Journal," she said.
The old man shook his head. "No, no. Just keeping an eye on my stocks."
"Preparing for the future. Clever, too. There's a few like you in my art class. Maybe you would like to join us?"
"Ain't good at drawing. No supplies either, miss."
The art teacher put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure I have some to spare. I promise you, it will be rejuvenating."
"Okay," the old man said. He nodded like a child while smiling.
"Remember to wear a mask because we shall be inside, Mr. Anchor," the art teacher said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"See you Saturday, then."
The old man backed away from the table. Smiling and nodding. "See you then, ma'am." He paid no attention to the children's librarian as he left.
The art teacher took a small bottle of hand sanitizer from the table and rubbed her hands together slowly. The children's librarian felt the woman's gaze, those purple eyes, on her. An alarm went off in the back of her mind.
"Thanks," the children's librarian said, looking away.
The art teacher said, "Men are just boys who forgot how to be tender. I have no doubt I'll see him again. Now, I have some supplies I would like to drop off. Do you mind if I bring them in?"
"Of course," the children's librarian said and moved the table aside.