No More Coffee

"I can't smell my coffee," the technical services librarian said from the back of the workroom.

"What was that, Martha?" the children's librarian said.

"My coffee has gone flat," Martha said. She had her nose in the cup that said "Best Effin Motherfucker."

"Coffee tastes fine to me," the children's librarian said. Naomi had just poured herself a fresh cup. She had made the pot, in fact, less than an hour ago.

Martha slammed down her cup, saying, "Well, mine tastes weak as hell. And doesn't smell like anything. I'm going to make another pot."

"I just made that and mine tastes fine," Naomi said and watched Martha go to the coffee station over by the book binding table. She went over with her.

The pot was half full in Naomi's optimistic eyes. She said, "Let me smell it."

Martha dumped the pot into the small sink. "I'll just make it fresh." She sniffed and pulled a napkin from her sleeve and wiped at her nose.

Naomi stuck her face in the sink. Smelled like hot coffee to her and she said so.

"All this is off, too," Martha said, holding the can of grounds, stuffing her napkin back in her sleeve. She put her nose in the can taking a big whiff. "Nothing."

"Martha, those grounds smell fine. I can smell them from here," Naomi said. She watched Martha take her napkin back from her sleeve. "Are you sick?"

"Just a cold," Martha said.

"Martha, you can't smell. Do you have a fever?" She tried to put her hand on the woman's forehead, but Martha slapped her hand away.

"I ain't sick. Just a cold."" She shook the cup. "And shitty coffee."

Naomi stepped back. "Coffee's fine. You're not. Go home, Martha."

"You sound like James," Martha said.

Naomi gave her a chance to think. She went back to the small desk and gathered her things. Martha went on making the coffee until Naomi grabbed the library station wagon key.

"Where are you going?" she said.

"Store. You need medicine, and I need cleaning products to sterilize this room when you go home. Plus, more coffee. You can take that home. I'll drop things off at your place with James. I'll let ST know," Naomi said.

"I'm not going home," Martha said.

Naomi stopped. "Yes, you are."

"Young lady, do not treat me like a child."

Naomi held Martha's gaze. Her blue eyes kept tight hold on the older women.

"I am fine and will take my coffee back to my desk."

Naomi's stare became harder. Martha felt the strength of those eyes, the weight of them on her, strong as a hand holding her down.

"I can't go. Those new Graves books just came in."

Naomi did not move.

"Goddam children's librarians. Worse than moms," Martha said. She set her coffee cup in the sink. "Mom's have that hard look, but children's librarian eyes are all crazy. No love at all. Like being watched by a chihuahua with a knife."

"Martha." Naomi held out a trash can. Wiggled it a little. Martha had her coat on and struggled to get the napkin from within her sleeve. "I'll bring some medicine to your place soon. Some soup?"

Martha said, "Crazy eyes."