The Library

When Jarred Flynn moved from Chicago to Galveston, he lost his library. The moving company did not deliver his books. He immediately called the moving company.

Marie Haversmith, a customer service representative, answered his call.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Flynn. Your books were merely misplaced while in transit. We recover almost all missing goods and deliver them to you right away.”

Jarred set about unpacking and putting his new house in order. The house was made of cinder block and his study looked out onto the Gulf of Mexico. The floors of all the rooms were covered in linoleum tile. It felt a little like a barracks, but it could well withstand tropical storms. Jarred threw the boxes of manuscripts containing his writing into the study closet, setup his desk and laptop computer, and put up his bookshelves in the study. He contented himself with reading “The New Joy of Cooking”, he had packed it with the pots and pans, and Montaigne’s “Essays”, he had taken it along for the drive to Galveston.

After a week, Jarred still had not heard from the moving company. He called Ms. Haversham.

“Mr. Flynn, I am sorry to tell you your books are lost.”

“I know they’re lost, but when will I get them back?”

“We have exhausted our resources trying to find them. We suggest you claim them on your insurance. Sometimes, when goods have been shipped to the wrong address, the receiving customer informs us of the error, but that has not happened.”

Jarred was at the point of shouting a string of obscenities into the phone.

“OK, thank you, for your help.”

Jarred had insured part of his library, but nothing near what it would take to replace the whole thing. He had acquired books for over forty years and they were not catalogued. He had no idea what it would take to replace books such as the twenty-five cent James Bond novels he first read while in high school.

He fell into a depression similar to the ones felt when losing a close family member or lover. He would sit for hours on his patio and watch the waves roll onto the beach. He remained unconsoled. He could not bring himself to buy a single book, so he contented himself with reading articles and books on the Internet. He found it difficult to read this way, for after a spell of reading, his mood darkened when he thought about once owning the book he was reading in electronic form.

He wrote a lot. Manuscript pages piled up beside his desk, but he did not have the energy or desire to edit them into something publishable. He eventually located a small bar nearby his house and began spending a few hours each afternoon there when it was mostly deserted.

He met Joan at the bar. She lived close by and liked to stop at the bar for a couple of cocktails every now and then. Joan read a lot of books. It gave them a lot to talk about. He told her the story of his lost library.

Jarred was physically attracted to Joan. One night, they lingered at the bar longer than the usual. Jarred invited her home, an invitation Joan accepted.

The next morning Jarred made breakfast while Joan sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

“All those empty bookshelves must haunt you?”

“Yes, I suppose you are right.”

“Why don’t you start to fill some of them again?”

“I have not had the heart to go near a bookstore since it happened.”

“I suppose it is like driving by a nursery after one has lost a young child.”

“Yes, something like that.”

Jarred and Joan fell in love. One day, they went to an antiques store just to browse. The store had a small collection of books. Jarred looked through its meager contents. He spotted “The Collected Dialogues” of Plato on the bookshelf. He took it in hand. He opened it, riffled through the pages, and checked the condition of its stitching and spine. The book was in pristine condition as if he was the first person ever to have opened the book. He did not notice Joan approach him.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” she said.

“I used to own this book. I used it for many classes I took in Chicago. God, I loved this book.”

Joan took the book from him. She walked to the counter and bought it. Jarred stood there watching her until she returned.

“There, the start of your new library.”

They returned to Jarred’s house. He placed the book next to Montaigne’s “Essays” on the bookshelf. After they made love that night and Joan had fallen asleep, Jarred went to the patio to listen to the sea and the night.

Joan would never marry him. She wanted her independence. In fact, one day she might well desert him if only because that is the way things seemed to happen in his life.

His library was like that.