11.
 The customers at the station were at first just a blur, but they got to know Tom and he got to recognize them. The women were attractive, some of them, and he began to think that maybe he, well, he'd brush the thought aside and keep working. But he kind of noticed one or two, all of them out of his reach, the ones that interested him. Right about then he finagled Antonio into giving him several sets of clean jumpsuits so he'd look a bit more professional. There was one blonde woman in particular who made the lump in his throat go dry every time. Reasonable figure, he guessed, eyeing her boots, jeans, and work jacket. She drove a creamy colored little Mercedes with gold trim. Probably some rancher's wife; had money, looks, the whole bit. He didn't even know her name at first, until he saw it on her credit slip: Evelyn Blisscomb. Nice name, he thought. He heard Antonio's loud voice next time, thanking her as she walked to her car: "Thank you, Eve, have a nice day now." Eve—so she went by Eve. She'd always stop and play with Sapphire, but Tom somehow always managed to be on the other side of the property and couldn't hear what she told the dog. What kind of voice she had.
Antonio would give Tom the keys to an old van almost every day, to make deliveries and pick up supplies in town. There were two car parts stores that always had items for Antonio—gaskets, switches, cases of oil, tires, sometimes even an engine. Tom discovered the town library and stopped there once or twice a week. There were two librarians, near as he could tell. One was real old, the other real young. Both were kind of cold and severe and he avoided conversation with them. One good thing was that they kept the place quiet. No rowdiness here. No giggling. The children came here after school and studied. He recognized Antonio's kids. "Hi, Mr. Smith," they'd said, waving. He'd wave back.
Then one day he nearly had a heart attack at the library: the main office door was open, and through that he glimpsed another door, marked Librarian. That door was usually closed, but today it was open and there sat Evelyn Blisscomb. She wasn't wearing any old jeans or ragged jacket. That was a smart, campy kind of blue denim skirt she wore. Just then the younger assistant told someone in a hushed tone: "I'll get the Librarian for you."
Tom wanted to look at Eve, but thought he'd better not. So he ran his finger along the large print books, and saw out of the corner of his eye that she noticed him. She spoke with a customer in whispers, her words lost across twenty feet of carpeting. Tom picked out two volumes and walked to the checkout register. Eve went into the back without another glance at him.
On two occasions during the following week, she ignored him totally. So what, he thought, she's somebody's wife. He could see the hunger building in himself. He needed to put his life back together and have a woman in it, maybe some kids whether they were his or someone else's, and it wouldn't do to hang around a strange town mooning about some woman. She wasn't even exactly beautiful. But she was so out of reach, so interesting, so, there wasn't even a word for it. Maybe he ought to leave town and get going, find a woman like her. She'd be perfect for him. He'd be so proud.
He was beginning to spend a few moments in the library each time—the visits were becoming more frequent—and stare at her quietly, making sure she didn't know, and the other two women wouldn't see to tell her. One afternoon she spent a lot of time out of her office, and he had a chance to study her. For what? Maybe as a model, for the woman he wanted to find.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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