ONE WEEK EARLIER

“Shut down the library?” It wasn’t until she said it that Lorraine Devonshire knew how terrible and how serious the problem really was. “Mister Jenkins, you can’t do that!”

Albert Jenkins waddled down the aisle, his big belly nearly glancing against the books on both sides. When he turned to glare at Lorraine, with Carmen Mendez following behind him, Lorraine knew it going to be a long week, and it wasn’t even Monday noon.

“Not my choice,” Albert said, inspiring Carmen to imitate his glare, short-tempered and inflexible. “There’s just not room in the budget.”

Carmen nodded, her own chunky physique much smaller than the moving mountain in front of them. “We’re already down to three days a week, Mr. Jenkins.”

“Then you’re only losing three days, aren’t you?”

Albert walked on, Lorraine and Carmen trailing behind him. Lorraine caught sight of herself and the others in a mirror as they passed; with Albert’s big, dark, round, presence, Carmen’s smaller, mocha self, and Lorraine’s small, pale frame and short red hair, she felt like the scoop of cherry ice cream on the top some strange, moving triple-cone of bureaucracy.

“If I may, Mr. Jenkins,” Lorraine said, Carmen’s glare telling her that she shouldn’t, but both knew it was too late. Lorraine went on, “This is a public library; it’s vital to the community. Children come here to be read to; we provide internet for people who can’t afford it. It’s a meeting place, a center of social interaction—”

Albert looked her over. “Miss Devonshire, I appreciate your position. You went to school, chose this as your profession, now it’s being threatened. Believe me, you have my every sympathy. I won’t have a job much longer either.”

“It’s not just about that,” Lorraine said. “Don’t you remember when you were a kid? You’d come and get these free books, and then read them with such appreciation and gratitude? It made you feel, I dunno, cared for, like the city cared enough about you to—”

“Enough,” Albert barked out, attracting the odd glances of various patrons around the otherwise quiet library. “You think I enjoy this? You think I want to shut the library down? You think I don’t care about the community, the kids? But the reality of the new budgets take the choice out of my hands, Miss Devonshire. There simply isn’t enough money to keep the doors open! Can I be more clear?”

“No, sir,” Carmen said, shooting little looks at Lorraine to shut her up. “We understand, of course.”

Albert nodded and walked on, Lorraine and Carmen following. “Nothing’s official yet, but you’d both better get your affairs in order.”

Carmen asked, “How long?”

“Three months,” Albert said, “six tops.”

Lorraine couldn’t help be struck with the resemblance their conversation had to a doctor’s terminal diagnosis and a patient’s sad acceptance. Albert Jenkins had just handed the Hadley branch of the Denver Public Library a death sentence.

Three to six months.

After Albert left, Carmen led Lorraine into her private office, closing the door behind them. “What was that, Lorraine?”

“I’m sorry, Carmen, I didn’t mean to speak out of turn, but…they’re gonna shut us down, and you’re just gonna take it?”

“What else can we do? Lorraine, this is government stuff, real political shit, baby. You go along, you get along. So they close this place up, maybe Albert’ll find us something somewhere else.”

Lorraine shook her head, short red hair clinging to her scalp. “He said he’ll be fired too, Carmen; he won’t be any use to anybody. Anyway, that’s no way to live—ass kissing.”

“So you say.”

“And it won’t save the library!” Lorraine exclaimed.

“You got me there,” Carmen said, shaking her head. “Still, you can’t fight City Hall.”

“No, I… Wait a minute, why can’t you?” Carmen tilted her head, looking at Lorraine from under her brow. Lorraine went on, “We can stage a protest or something, right? Save our library, something like that?”

“Not unless you have some other career in your back pocket.”

“This is my career, Carmen, and yours! And why? We didn’t get into this in order to get rich or famous!”

“Lo’, I got into this so I could work in a nice, quiet place. With my family, library was the only place you couldn’t shout at the top of your lungs!”

“Exactly, but today’s kids need that as much as we did, as much as any generation!” Lorraine couldn’t ignore the fatalistic expression on Carmen’s face. “What if we had a fundraiser, raised enough money to keep the library going?”

“You know how much that would take? You’re talking about a hundred grand just for this branch and just for one year! Then there’s the overall pattern, Lo’. It’s not just this branch. Pretty soon the whole concept of the public library will be a memory. Like phone booths, you remember those? Or those photo development places—little shacks in parking lots where people would drive up and get their pictures? Times change, Lo’—y’just gotta deal with it.”

“But that’s just the problem, Car. Those government fat cats are always cutting all the social service agencies, from welfare to planned parenthood. Those rich bastards are slicing up our country and eating it like a Christmas turkey, and we’re left to starve! It’s not fair and it’s not right! We have to draw the line somewhere, right?”

“Not across my neck, we don’t. You wanna draw a line, Lo’, do it someplace else.”

“But this is where it matters, Car, this is where it counts!”

“No, Lorraine, no, this is just a library. This is where homeless people come to get out of the sun. This is where old people come to read magazines—another dying institution. This is just a job nobody wants to pay for, just a building filled with books nobody wants to read.”

Lorraine couldn’t disguise her sorrow, and Carmen couldn’t ignore it. “It’s okay, Lo’, you’ll find something else. We both will.”

“Go along to get along,” Lorraine repeated. But she didn’t mean it, and she wasn’t ready to accept it.

The problem wriggled in the back of her mind all the way back to her apartment. The one-bedroom apartment wasn’t much, but it represented promise; it was Lorraine’s independence, her future as an adult. It had been the first place she’d ever had on her own after childhood with the Devonshires and then college years rooming with Jeremy Bush. This was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of my life, Lorraine said to herself, a voice in the back of her brain. Is that it? Is it over already?

No, she told herself, I’m not just going to let go of it, or of the library. What are they going to cut next? No more public schools? No more emergency rooms? People dying in the streets? No. The libraries may not save any lives, but they inspire educations and they employ a lot of good people.

There must be something I can do!

Lorraine’s smartphone rang, the familiar name on the screen bringing her no particular solace, much less joy. “Donal, hi.”

“Hey, you know my number by heart,” Donal said, deliberately cheerful. She didn’t bother to explain, and she didn’t have the chance. “Just thought I’d give you a call, see what’s up.”

“Nothing good, I’m afraid. They’re dropping the axe on the library.”

“Oh, that sucks, Lo’. Sorry to hear it.”

“Not any sorrier than I am to say it.”

“Okay, well, we’ll get married and you can raise my children—no big deal.”

Lorraine spat out an amused chuckle, but the underlaying frustration almost hurt her teeth. “That’s your solution to everything.”

“It would solve all my problems, yeah, yours too.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” A tense silence passed. Neither wanted to pursue the conversation where both knew it was going. “Anyway, one thing at a time, eh?”

“Sure, right, exactly. So let’s talk about this weekend. Six o’clock Saturday?”

“Oh, did we…um, did we nail that down?” Lorraine said hesitantly.

“We’re doing it now.”

Lorraine thought about it, and not nearly for the first time. “Sure, right, exactly.”

The conversation trailed on for a while until Lorraine managed to end it gracefully. She knew she wasn’t in love with Donal; they had been together for a few months now, known each other all throughout school, and she couldn’t help contemplate that she just wasn’t in love with him the way she ought to be. She had never been in love before, but from what she had seen in other relationships, and from her parents, she just didn’t feel that spark she knew should be there. Sure, he was a nice enough guy, but she never felt butterflies, and most of the time spent together felt platonic.

Am I asking too much, she had to wonder. Am I being unreasonable?

The phone rang again, a more comforting name on the screen. “There he is,” Lorraine said. “The last Queen of Scots.”

Jeremy Bush laughed, a high-pitched rattle of bubbling amusement. “Off with her head!” Lorraine laughed too, more out of respect or affection than anything else. Jeremy went on, “What’s the sitch, bestie? Coming out tonight?”

“Jeremy, every night you call me, every night I say no. When are you going to take a hint? I don’t like that whole scene.”

“Lo’, you gotta get over it.”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

“Because you can’t leave it behind. You’ll be totally safe in the club; I’ll stick with you every step of the way.”

“That’s what you said that night.”

“Lo’…”

“I know, I… I don’t blame you, Jer, I don’t. It’s just…y’know, I got this job thing on my mind. I wouldn’t be any fun.”

After a long, tense silence, Jeremy said, “Is that all that’s on your mind—the library?”

“Well no, not exactly.”

“It’s that guy you’re seeing…or not seeing.”

“I’m seeing him,” Lorraine said. “We’re going out Saturday night.”

“Why?”

After a curious moment, Lorraine said, “Excuse me?”

“Why are you going out with him? You’re not going to sleep with him. Why are you wasting your time and his money?”

“Jeremy!”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Lorraine wanted to disagree, to contradict her oldest and dearest gay friend. Unfortunately, he was her smartest friend too. “Just write him a Dear John letter and be done with it—find a guy you could really love.”

“It’s not that I…and it’s not just Donal, I…yeah, guess I know what you mean. But it’s hard, and Donal’s such a nice guy. I keep feeling like it’s my fault. It can’t be easy, having a platonic relationship like this.”

“Then why do it? Let him bust your cherry. He’s not some maniac—”

“No, I know that, I… I do, he’s a very sweet, very gentle person. It’s just…I dunno; it’s hard to explain.”

“No, it’s not. But you can’t go on the rest of your life being afraid, shutting yourself off from other people. It’s not healthy, it’s not any kind of a life.”

She stammered for an answer, but just couldn’t find one. But between best friends, no explanations were necessary.

So Jeremy finally said, “Alright, have it your way. If you change your mind, we’ll be at Sables.”

“Have fun.”

Again alone in the quiet of her apartment, Lorraine leaned back into the couch, the television off, the neighbor’s cat Whiskers whining unseen in the distance.

Lorraine finally had to ask herself, What do I do about Donal? We haven’t been seeing each other for very long, but I can sense he’s growing impatient with me. Should I break my rule of waiting to lose my virginity for the man of my dreams and let him…? I mean…will I ever meet the man of my dreams? Maybe it’s crazy to keep waiting. No, I won’t be pressured. It just doesn’t feel right. Then I guess I should write him a Dear John letter, like Jeremy said. Dear John letter—only Jeremy would use such an old-timey phrase. What would a modern version be—a Dear John email?

Then something occurred to Lorraine—a spark of excitement igniting in the back of her imagination. Wait a minute: a letter…