Two Wheels Good (7/18/08 Friday)

Today was a short day with Julie, but I made the most of it, engaging her in conversation within seconds of seeing her. Some well-minded soul had checked out our only book on bike commuting, and returned the 25-year-old paperback in pieces, the glue having turned to dust. This is the kind of thing that lands on my desk for repair, but I’m often simply the agent of refuse, and this was, without doubt, my role with this book. I flipped through it to see just how pathetically archaic it was and landed on a photograph of an "adequate safety helmet" that was in fact none of the above–more of an open-topped, padded hat. Julie was on backup, a few feet from my desk, discharging mail. I walked over and showed her the picture, which appeared to amuse her to the same extent it did me. (There was my day made already!) She remarked on the paucity of such information in our system with a lament of her own regarding cycling-trail books. "Oh," she added, "I got my bike back. I can finally ride it." "Yay!" I said. Agee’s was the third shop she’d taken it to just to tune up the gears. Joe did me right in that respect, anyway, if he couldn’t put in a good word for me with Julie. Maybe my recommendation put a few points on my side of the board.

I didn’t see much more of Julie before five, when she was to leave, but just before then, while I was at backup, she stood over the neighboring terminal to do a search. "Hey, Dion?" she called. "Yes?" I stood and came over. She said, "I thought you’d said we didn’t have this in the system, that you’d have to get it from Richmond." I looked at the screen: One Corpse Too Many, the second Cadfael book. "I thought we hadn’t." I’d checked the catalog the day before, but not knowing the title I looked it up under Ellis Peters and was dependent upon the subtitle designating its ordinal number in the series. This title had no such designation. Thinking I’d have to go into town to get it, I asked Julie if I could borrow it from her library, instead. She had no qualms in lending it to me; however, she had to find it in still-packed boxes from her move-in with her mom. "Give me a few days," she said, "and if I don’t find it by then, go ahead and get it from Richmond." That was Monday. Wednesday, at lunch, I sit across from her at the table and pulled out a book, The Acid House by Irvine Welsh. "Before I start this book, Julie: Do you have a book for me?" "No, I don’t," she replied, in a voice sagging with apology. "You know, I started to look for it last night–-I thought I knew where it was. Now I’m not so sure. That’s going to be my Saturday project."

It wasn’t until she left, with that smile and a wiggle-fingered wave, that I began to wonder why she was looking the book up, especially as she was about to leave. I will ask her pointedly tomorrow. I hope we get some time together on the desk. It seems a very long time since the last.