Lorelei

I watch from the table nearest the children’s area, Isobel engaging with the children during Story Time. I recognize Sam, who had moments ago came in with a glum face, yet now it’s full of wonder and joy. Story Time is my favorite time of day, I rarely miss it, unless I don’t feel like leaving the house.

Isobel has a giant Peter Rabbit book on her lap, from the pages the bunnies leap out and hop around the children as they giggle and clap. I have always admired Isobel and the rest of the employees of Spellbound Cove Library because it takes much courage to handle the people and creatures that come out of the books. I have been a witness to many incidents.

As the rabbits hop back into the book at Isobel’s command, I think back to earlier when the library was besieged by deadly vines. They lashed out of a horror book that someone had borrowed. I watched as Haley, Roland and Tristen battled, with Tristen managing to lure the vines back in with a magical herbicide he pulled from his pocket.

The library never ceases to amaze me. Everything comes alive whenever someone checks a book out. Each day is different from each other, it’s become a form of distraction for me since Carl left. Isobel closes the book just as a lonely bunny hops from behind a child. She coax the rabbit in and places the book on a low shelf. The children rise and head to different parts of the area.

I go back to reading the magazine on recipes, searching for a few to do for the week. A routine that I’ve grown used to on Sundays: spend time in the library, gathering a few recipes, and then shop for the ingredients at the Coastal Grocery Store. My pen is writing on my notepad as I list the ingredients in my head, such a handy item I bought at the Enchantingly Handmade shop.

As the pen floats down to rest on the table, I stare out the window to the sea. It’s high tide and the waves are lapping the shoreline close to where beachgoers would rest. The rhythmic cresting of the waves fail to soothe my aching chest. Tears threaten to well at the corners of my eyes, as I recall walking the beach hand in hand with Carl.

I rub at my eyes and peer at the library patrons, checking to see that no one noticed. Roland appears into view, his hands in his uniform pocket.

“Hello, Miss Lorelei,” He says.

“Hi Roland, how are you?” I say.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“You have a piece of leaf on your pants leg.”

“Oh, must be from those vines that were crawling all over the place.” He says and he bends down to remove the leaf.

“That did get a bit out of control.” I say as I straighten the magazines into a short stack.

“Well nothing we can’t handle.”

“That’s true, I’ve seen some other times where I thought the library was doomed.”

Roland chuckles as if I made a joke and not point out how dangerous it can get in the library.

“Are you staying for the computer class?” Roland asks.

“No, today is grocery day for me.”

“Ah, that’s right. It’s Sunday. The days seem to come together since starting my book project.”

“How is that coming along?” I ask as I get up from the chair.

“I think it’s going well. I’ve been doing some research on my family and making notes to see what I want to add to the memoir. You’d think it wouldn’t be so hard since it’s basically about my life, the one thing I know a lot about.”

“Maybe it’s because you care so much about it?”

Roland frowned and added, “That is an interesting observation.”

I smile and take up the pile of magazines to check out. We part ways and I see Jesse typing at his terminal. He stops as I place the magazines down in front of him.

“Hi, Lorelei,” He says as he scans the magazines by waving his hand over them. He double checks to see that they show up on the screen. Gradually the scent of cooking permeates from them.

“Oh, gosh, this is making me hungry. I think I’m going to have to take my lunch time early.”

I gather the magazines and say, “Well, have a good lunch then.”

“Thanks, take care,” Jesse says as he gets up from his chair.

Digging through my kitchen cupboards, I take note of what I have already and what I would need to get. I can hear the pen scratching along the notepad. In the fridge I move the leftovers to the front, so I can remember to eat them later for dinner. A furry, warm body grazes the back of my legs. I sweep up the cat into my arms.

Atticus, named after a character from Carl’s favorite book, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” purrs. As much as Atticus provides me with joy, he also provides me with pain. Placing Atticus back down, I remember the day we adopted the young rascal from the quaint Seaside Animal Shelter, which unfortunately closed some time ago.

I had wanted an older cat, but Carl was intent on getting a kitten; he wanted to experience what it was like to raise it from a young age. It was work, as I suspected, but it was fun watching Carl be enamored by Atticus. I also fell in love with the fur ball. Atticus mews from the back door, wanting to be let out. Once the door opens, he hops out and makes his way to his favorite perch; a flat top stone that Carl had somehow brought from a sea cave he found while trekking the beach. Atticus splays himself on the rock sunbathing.

I smile and close the door. Grabbing my tote bags and grocery list, I walk out not worrying about Atticus since he is independent and adventurous as Carl was.

I push the shopping cart slowly, enjoying the varying colors and smells of the produce section. Much of the selection is grown in a farm up the road from the grocery store. With a little bit of magic the soil was adjusted to grow fruits and vegetables. I marvel at the zesty orange hue of the sweet peppers, the rich purple of the eggplant, and the ripe red of the apples. Soon, my shopping cart is full of a rainbow of produce.

Avoiding the sweets aisle, I go down the cereal section and grab a box of wheat squares without the sugary frosting. I throw in a box of oatmeal and turn the corner to head to the pet aisle. As I pass the rows of cashier I hear an elevated voice.

Slowing down, I stop at end display and peer at Robert who is raising his voice at Cassandra. Poor Cassandra seems to be in physical pain by his words. My shoulders slump knowing that Cassandra is a highly sensitive person and she didn’t deserve such behavior; she is a quiet peaceful person. I watch as Bill comes by, his hands on his hip. Robert has an indignant expression and I can’t help but shake my head.

Robert gazes my way briefly and I push the cart down the pet aisle. I stare at the cans of wet food - turkey, salmon, beef - for a moment I forgot what Atticus liked. I peer at the end of the aisle and see Robert leaving with his cart of beer and Mac n’ cheese in a box. I grab a few cans and a small bag of dry food, forgetting to see where exactly the food is coming from. I know they have to bring it in on a semi truck, but I like knowing from where.

Heading to Cassandra’s lane, I pause waiting for Bill to stop talking to her. Bill noticing me.

“Hi, Lorelei. Sorry about the wait,” He says.

“Not at all! It’s good to see you.”

I place my items on the rolling check out belt. Cassandra gives me a small smile.

“Hi, Cassie. Are you alright? I couldn’t help hearing Robert,” I ask.

“I think everyone heard,” She says and I could see her cheek grow red.

“It’s not your fault, dear. You know he is just a cranky old man.”

Cassandra laughs and adds, “Yes, it seems like he enjoys making people uncomfortable.”

Cassandra helps me put the items in my tote bags and she waves. I wave back and push the cart out of the store. As I edge into the parking lot, a rusty pickup truck speeds past in front of me causing me to stop abruptly. Wide eyed, I stare as the pickup turns out of the lot with Robert behind the wheel. I continue to watch the truck.

“Hello. Did you forget something?” Someone says.

I turn back and see Jonathan smiling at me.

“Oh, no. I was just watching Robert. He almost hit my grocery cart.”

“Yeah, I had to blow the horn on him, he almost hit me.”

“He is incorrigible.”

“From what I’ve been told, he’s gotten worse with his mood since losing his wife a few years ago.”

“Oh, yes. I have forgotten about that. I suppose that can explain his behavior.”

“Lorelei, not that I want to bring up your past, but you’re not like that and you have also suffered a loss.” Jonathan says as his face softens.

I bite my lower lip and nod. Parting ways with Jonathan, I push the cart to the front of my house and place the tote bags in. As soon as the last bag is taken out, the cart disappears returning back to the Coastal Grocery store. Taking the bags one by one to the kitchen, I think about Robert. I had forgotten that he lost Jessenia about four years ago. I knew her from the few times that I had gone to her spiritual cleansing classes at the Rec center. Carl always thought the classes were a little woo woo, but never complained about me going.

I recall going to the funeral with Carl as I absentmindedly store away the groceries. An image of Robert standing there at the head of the coffin with a stony face as everyone had their heads down. Jessenia’s spiritual mentor ordained the funeral, sharing words of kindness and fondness for Jessenia. The crowd tossed flowers onto the casket and the flowers wrapped themselves overlapping each other until they burst into a shower of petals and the casket was gone.

There was a scratch at the back door. Letting Atticus in, he brushed his body against my legs before heading to his bowl. I peer out the back door window and notice the day was slipping away. Atticus was on schedule with his feeding. After giving him his meal, I heat up my leftovers and sit in front of the TV. Carl would have been peeved with me at my new habit of having dinner in front of what he liked to call the brainwash screen. As I flick it on, a cozy mystery show fades on.

The episode was familiar to me. I most likely watched it before. Eventually I bore of the plot and head to the kitchen to place my dirty plate in the sink. I remove my wedding ring and place it next to Carl’s ring. I gaze at the pair of rings. Carl always forgot to place the ring back on after washing the dishes; sometimes it would sit there for days until he noticed. I would place bets to myself wondering how long it would take for him to remember.

That ring has been sitting there in the clay shallow bowl since a couple of days before he left for sea. All my bets are off since he would never be putting that ring back on.