“Well, across from my desk there’s a poster of a duck holding an umbrella, and all afternoon I’ve had the feeling that the duck was watching me. But then I got to thinking I should probably make sure it’s just the duck and not anyone else. So, I was wondering if you saw anyone out here that may have been hanging around, looking into the children’s area?”
“You’re hysterical. That imagination, that’s why the kids all love you.”
“Thanks, Fran. So, have you noticed anyone?”
“No one acting suspicious. I would’ve called Jim in security if there was. There was a gentleman reading at that table for a couple of hours.” She pointed to the table closest to the children’s area, the one the book was on. “His seat faces your desk, so maybe it was him you sensed?”
Fudge. It wasn’t in my head. “What did he look like? Do you know anything about him?”
“He was here yesterday too, near the end of the day. He took a book about the parks in San Antonio and sat at that same table until closing, and he was there for a while today. I haven’t seen today’s book yet. Yesterday he was wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and a hat, and today he was wearing jeans, a blue plaid shirt, and the same hat. I didn’t get a good look at his face. He hasn’t cometo the desk or checked out any books, so I don’t know anything else.”
Crap. A hat that hid his face and a sweatshirt. A hoodie, maybe? Was I stretching it, or could he be the same person who’d given me the creeps the day before? “Do you know what kind of sweatshirt or hat he was wearing?”
Fran looked toward the table, like she was trying to remember. “I’m not sure about the sweatshirt. The hat was gray, and had a white design on it, but I didn’t get a good look, sorry. Do you know him?”
Maybe. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Did he make you uncomfortable? Do you want me to call security?”
“No, I’m sure it’s just in my head.”
“We have intuition for a reason. Trust your gut and call Jim if you feel unsure. That’s why he's here.”
Ugh, I hated when people said to listen to your intuition. Whether you wanted to call it intuition or gut, mine was all kinds of screwed up. Listening to my gut was as useful as reading tea leaves. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him. Can’t be too careful.”
“Thanks, Fran. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too, sweetheart.”
I stood behind the seat he’d been in, careful not to touch anything he might have touched. My skin crawled at even the thought of him being there. I didn’t want to share his air, much less touch what he’d touched.
The chair was angled just out of view from the children’s area, but if he leaned mere inches to the right, he’d have a perfect view of the desk. Of me.
A San Antonio travel guide lay abandoned on the table. This table sat between the local travel guides and the entrance to the children’s area. Was it the book he wanted, or the location?
I gave myself a mental shake, trying to rein in my worry. I knew I was more than capable of blowing things out of proportion and feeling threatened by nothing, but I couldn’t tell if this was one of those times.
It probably wasn’t the same person, and even if it was, so what? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Most people were good, and the library was an unlikely place for someone to be for nefarious reasons. I was the one being unfairly judgmental about someone who simply came to use a public library, a privilege I deeply believed in.
I was letting him scare me, something I’d vowed not to do.
I had an epiphany a few years ago: nothing could guarantee my safety, but letting fear win would guarantee that I’d miss out on life.
That led to the three “rules” I used to stay safe without letting fear control me, and I was on the verge of breaking them all.
One: Some people are evil, but most are good, and it’s impossible to tell the difference. Therefore, assume people are probably good (but don’t let your guard down completely).
Two: You can't avoid danger without also avoiding life, so live fully (but not recklessly).
Three: Be happy. It's the only thing that makes it all worthwhile.
It wasn’t a perfect system, but it worked in most situations. Let’s say, for example, you love swimming in the ocean, but you’re scared of sharks. Most sharks aren’t people-eaters, so the odds of being attacked are low (rule number one). If you don’t go in, you’re guaranteed to miss out on the fun, so go in the ocean, but don’t be reckless. Swim with a buddy and avoid known shark-infested waters (rule number two). And while you’re there, have fun. It's what makes everything else worth it (rule number three).
It was like that, except I was scared of men. Specifically, this man, at the moment. But most men aren’t psycho rapists, so odds were he probably wasn’t.
I couldn’t avoid the library, and I didn’t want to. I wasn’t being reckless—it’s not like I was hanging out alone in the parking lot after closing. A chill ran through me when I recalled that SUV, but it had driven away in the opposite direction, so that was probably paranoia talking.