Tales of a Librarian [part iv - fin]

Continued from part iii

On Monday morning a giant bouquet of flowers in a big, glass vase walked into my office and behind it was Margaret's frizzy-haired head. The flowers were mostly pink and white and the bouquet was replete with both colours of my favourite flower, lilies.

Kapp had been sure she wouldn't remember anything about Friday night. I'd called him as I was walking home from Margaret's at about 1:00 in the morning, after I'd half walked, half carried her a dozen blocks to the other side of downtown, never sure whether she was lucid enough to actually find her way home. She was expectorating every three minutes or so, and I didn't think it would be prudent to pour her into a cab. I didn't know where she lived but I couldn't just leave her on the sidewalk.

"You owe me, buster," I said when Kapp picked up the phone after the second ring.

Don't question the drunk logic of that statement, Gentle Reader. Margaret was his friend, I'd just met her, so that made me, I reasoned, the last person at the table who should have had to take her home. What Kapp didn't say, but could rightfully have said was, "You didn't have to stay until closing." Instead, he listened to me detail the night's drama and comedy, laughing at some places and offering encouraging and sympathetic comments at others.

"There was a moment on her front porch when I was sure she wouldn't be able to find her key, and I was prepared to just leave her there and deem it close enough," I told Kapp.

"This is California. It's not like she'd die of exposure," he replied.

"But then, just when I was about to prop her up in the corner and leave, she found her key and opened the door. And then I saw the stairs. Have you seen her place?"

"Yes. Long, narrow, winding staircase, right?"

"Right. Not enough room for me to negotiate it beside her. So I pushed her up and stayed behind in case she fell backwards. She made it all the way to the top, I could see her door. She reached for the keyhole and then she fell down on the landing and threw up again."

Kapp laughed.

"At this point I didn't care about the vomit anymore; I'd seen so much of it. She's such a tiny person, I figured there couldn't be much left, and in any event it wasn't my carpet and I had no intention of sticking around to clean up the mess."

"So, what, did you just leave her on the landing?"

"I was going to, but I worried that she might fall down the stairs, and then I started envisioning the whole Jimi Hendrix Bon Scott Keith Moon scenerio and felt too guilty. She had her key in her hand, so I opened the door and literally dragged her inside."

"And she was passed out this whole time?"

"No, she drifted in and out. Every time she'd come to she'd gush about how wonderful I was, and then she'd say something about you."

"About me?" Kapp sounded surprised.

"Yes. Mostly about some librarian you're boinking."

"Moira? I told you about her. And she's not a librarian, she's a library assistant."

"I know, and I told Margaret so. Look, the whole conversation all night long had me baffled. She kept bringing you up every few minutes. No pun intended."

Kapp laughed again.

"I think maybe she has a thing for me," Kapp suggested.

"My, aren't we full of ourselves? No offence, Lothario, but I didn't get that impression from her at all."

"So how did you leave her?"

"I peeled off her clothes and threw them in the shower, then dragged her over to her bed and sort of tossed her into it. She'll probably have some serious rug burn in the morning, but with any luck she won't be dead."

A year later, The Librarian turns out to be an asshole.