UNEXPECTED
By Emmett Hall
I admit it. I love the lab library. The library is a stark contrast to the antiseptic white scrubbed walls of the lab with its myriad of glass windows cordoning off one function of study from another.
The library is in the original building now nearly two hundred years old. The University built the lab onto it before the county and city cared about historic preservation. Once local government caught on to the idea no one could change a doorknob on the library without someone appointed to the historical society’s approval.
All that didn’t make any difference to me as I walk through the threshold to the library. The transition was like walking into the past.
Every day while my cultures were cooking in the lab, I would explore the library catching snippets from this old book and that.
Today, Eleanor, on the other side of a panel of glass looking to me like a mural depicting efficiency, set up a series of recombinant studies. I finished sliding my six trays of cultures in the oven, stripped off my containment protection clothes and stepped out in the slim hall. Eleanor was there.
“Sean, you going over to the library?”
I supposed it was common knowledge I went over there every chance I got. “Yes. You want to come with?” Why did I invite her? Then occurred to me, maybe she was interested in me. We never really got to know one another with our different work hours where we came in between our classes. The containment suits made us look like slim Frosty the Snowman impersonators. Not actually the sort of thing to spur romance among co-labbers. I had no idea what courses she took because I never saw her around campus outside the lab.
I’m a pragmatic guy, I know her interest was in the library not me. “Have you been in the library?” I ask.
“I’ve just seen it through the hallway. I’ve meant to explore but circumstances… well, you know hadn’t permitted. I’ve seen you go in a lot. I figure you know your way around.”
“I do, if you want a tour. What sort of thing interest you? The library has a wide array of stuff.”
“What do you like best?” She intoned in a smooth, lilting Asian accent that I didn’t have, being third generation American.
“There is a section on the second floor I like in particular.” I glanced at her room and caught her dark eyes when I looked at her. “How much time do you have?”
“My samples have to sit for at least four hours.” Her smile accented her black bobbed haircut. A practical, wash, brush and go style for a sensible girl. I wore my hair long for most men and pretty much in the same fashion as hers.
She was between me and the hall to the library, so I gestured her to take the lead. I tell myself I wouldn’t have noticed her well-formed bottom, but she had what I decided was Bluebells embroidered on the patch pockets of her dark-blue, new looking jeans. Then I wondered if she misted her jeans with water to get into them. I realized I liked flowers more than I thought I did.
Stepping through the downdraft from the air blower over the threshold that helped to maintain the lab’s slight positive pressure we entered the library.
After trotting up a spiral staircase, we came out on to a wooden floor. “See, the limestone pavers along the landing?” I asked.
“Why, yes.”
“See the skylights overhead? They were installed by some forward-thinking people. The sun shines on the pavers and heats them up. They will give off heat all night long from what is stored in them that way.”
“I see. That’s pretty smart. I don’t like to be cold.” Eleanor studied the route as I took the lead touching things. I didn’t mind, not that it was my place to worry about materials in the library anyway. The ambiance lent itself to having hands put upon its things. No one could walk two feet without wanting to pick up or touch something.
“Here we are.” I pointed into the narrow alcove between two tall shelves. Eleanor slipped in before me and switched on the swing arm lamp at the end of the first shelf.
Turning to face me she smiled. “I like it here. So quiet and rich in antiquity.”
Then the nerd in me broke out. Mentally, I screamed to myself don’t do it. But I did it anyway. “Here’s a whole set of books on chemistry. I think you’d like this one.” I pulled it down and opened it and took a glance at it. The section open was on forbidden combinations. I snapped it shut and handed it to her.
She took the book low next to my hand brushing the side of my finger. A crackle-snap jarred both of us as the static electricity discharged.
“Wow, That was something,” I laughed.
“That’s nothing,” she cooed. Eleanor grabbed the lapel of my shirt and pulled my head down.
Then my glasses fogged up.
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