The Library: A Novel

By Joyce Fay Fletcher

Welcome to the unpredictable world of Washington D.C.s Sojourner Truth Regional Library where the psychiatric hospital and homeless shelters drop off clients every day. Driven by addictions, obsessions and temptations of all kinds, library staff and patrons alike fill each workday with its share of scandal and drama.
Anthony Broadnax, an impulsive young crack-addicted circulation desk technician, accused of assault and theft at a smaller branch, must report to Sojourner Truth while his case is being investigated. Assistant regional library manager, Jackie Ramsey, declares all-out war against her underhanded and ambitious rival, Brian Cole. Brian, however, is trapped in a web spun by his irresistible attraction to Jackies best friend.
Ursula Swann is an industrious, straight-laced reference librarian who is wearing herself out trying to keep order in a branch spiraling out of control. Will she succeed in saving Sojourner Truth Regional, or will her own secret Dewey demons drive her mad?
Check out this fresh urban library adventure that you will never forget!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 18, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453555231

Joyce Fay Fletcher

Joyce Fay Fletcher was born and raised in Washington, D.C. She is a school librarian in Northern Virginia. She has two sons, and lives in Stafford County with her husband. The Library is her debut novel. Cover Art: Abdou Karim Ndiaye

Book preview

Chapter 1

INTRUDERS: OCTOBER 1994

"Hey Miss!" A shabby-looking woman of about fifty with red swollen eyes and the dull skin of an alcoholic called out to Ursula. It was 8:40 in the morning, and as Ursula approached the library, the brisk early October wind kept blowing the other woman’s stale odor in her face. She tried holding her breath while keeping her facial expression neutral and hoped that the smelly woman would keep her distance.

You work in the lie-bury? the woman slurred as she staggered toward Ursula. Ursula then noticed that the woman’s face was bruised and swollen with a fresh red cut. Yes, I do, replied Ursula with a reserved smile, feeling a wave of guilt for her coldness. She noted that most of the woman’s front teeth were missing, too.

We open at 9:30, Ursula added, looking stiff and lanky in her straight wool beige knee-length skirt and crew-neck sweater. Look ma’am, are you okay?

I be ah’ight.

Ursula turned to move closer to the library door.

Hey Miss! the woman called again.

Yes? Ursula began to wonder if perhaps one of her drunken consorts were lurking around the corner to stage a robbery. She swept the block with her eyes, careful to maintain a calm façade on her light brown face with its small round acne scars.

Is it true that people can sleep in there at night?

Ursula swiftly surveyed the block again. No. We clear the building before we close every evening.

At that, a wild wet gleam lit the woman’s eyes. She spread her chapped lips in a confident satisfied grin which fully exposed gums dotted with yellowed rotting teeth. She suddenly looked as though she had just won an important argument. Oh! I thought so! she said and dashed awkwardly across the street.

With a sigh of relief, Ursula approached the entrance to turn off the alarm before unlocking the door, but she discovered that the alarm had already been turned off. Somebody else must have beat her here and unlocked the door before she arrived for a change! It must be Brian or maybe Susan. She smiled at the thought and walked in the door looking around.

Nobody had turned the lights on yet. That was funny. Maurice, the building engineer, would surely have turned the lights on. Even Brian or Susan would have turned on the lights downstairs before going up to the children’s reading room.

Something wasn’t quite right, but she crept quietly up the front stairwell which led to the children’s room, her plain brown eyes darting nervously in the dark. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she unconsciously held her thin rectangular torso and bony limbs stiff and ready for flight.

When she neared the top of the landing, her suspicions were verified. The lights were out upstairs, too. So neither Brian nor Susan was there. Ursula’s heart started beating hard and fast. She didn’t dare check that dank smelly basement where the staff kitchen, two meeting rooms, restrooms, boiler room and building engineer’s office were located. Slowly and silently, she tiptoed back to the first floor.

She headed toward the reference desk. A man dressed in filthy jeans and a long-sleeved shirt stumbled out from between the stacks which led to the basement steps at the back of the darkened reading room. She recognized him. He was a regular at the library. He had a big permanent knot upside his head and chalky skin. His puffy blood-shot eyes stared at Ursula in drunken surprise. She was too stunned to utter a sound. He staggered jerkily out the front door leaving a sour cloud of funk behind him. She quickly switched on the lights nearest her. Her hands trembling and her heart pattering in panic, she kept scanning the reading room. Is anyone else here? She cut the lights back off. I can’t let anybody else see me! I should call security. No. I’d better not. Let me wait. I’d better wait outside until Maurice or Brian or somebody else comes. How in the world did I ever end up in a situation like this?

Ursula had worked hard to become a librarian. She had tried other jobs over the years, but librarianship was a special achievement. She had fallen in love with her neighborhood library as a child. She hadn’t known about the Sojourner Truth Regional Library in those days. She only discovered this branch when she started working here a few months ago, and indeed, it had many great resources and the potential for excellence. She felt like a custodian of thousands of wonderful books, magazines and databases. Her parents would have been proud to see that she was part of something this important to the city in particular and to civilization in general, but she didn’t expect the library to be like this. Did she have what it took to stick with this position and help restore the library to what it should be? Or would she fail at this, too? Would she end up assaulted—or even worse in this library? She didn’t want to think about it. All she knew was that she couldn’t afford to fail at this. She had to give it her all despite the risks.

I’m going to call security, she mumbled out loud hiding her tote bag behind the circulation desk, keeping her brown leather handbag strapped across her tall skinny frame and clutching her keys in her left fist. It was about 8:50 now—ten minutes before official duty time, but that didn’t matter anyway. Security personnel were stationed twenty-four seven at the Central Library about fifteen blocks away. It shouldn’t take them long to get here and inspect the building, she reasoned.

Ursula knew that Jackie wouldn’t like it. Some time ago, Brian had told her about how Jackie had accidentally left the library unlocked one night and got mad when he’d called security the following morning to inspect the building because she didn’t want anybody from Central Library to find out about it. But this is an emergency, Ursula reminded herself. I could be in real danger. I don’t care what Jackie’s going to say, she nervously told herself as she dialed the black rotary phone with her trembling pointer, I’m calling security.

Her call was answered on the second ring. She hid behind a wall where intruders coming from the back rooms or the basement couldn’t easily spot her. The reading room remained dim and shadowy.

Security! announced a strong clear woman’s voice through the receiver, Sergeant Mobley speaking.

Good morning, Ursula whispered.

Speak up, please, said Sergeant Mobley.

I can’t speak any louder. This is Ursula Swann from Sojourner Truth Regional. There have been overnight trespassers here. The door was unlocked when I walked in just now. I actually saw somebody leave. I don’t know who might still be in here now.

All right, Ms. Swann. Someone will be there right away. Vacate the building immediately and wait outside.

Okay, Ursula said, Thanks! She hung up, grabbed her tote bag, and was back outside the heavy glass double doors in a flash. She felt only slightly safer outside. The Sojourner Truth Regional Library was located in the gaseous, rumbling stomach of Washington, D.C. where nearly all the ingredients that made up the city mixed with noxious acids and juices before passing through totally transformed. It was a few blocks west and umpteen blocks north of the bare-breasted Capitol, (her monumental nipple, completely recovered from the reconstructive surgery of the year before.) The library, by contrast, had not been renovated for more than three decades. The outside looked abandoned. It was not the kind of place where you wanted to hang out alone.

She relaxed a little when Monique’s gray Nissan with its two empty baby seats in the back, pulled up to the curb. Monique opened the passenger door and kissed her husband good-bye before climbing out. Ursula watched as she slammed the car door shut behind her and waved playfully at her husband before he stepped on the gas.

Hey Ursula! Monique called out as she walked toward her. Monique Powell, Circulation Supervisor, was one of the only two people working at Sojourner Truth that Ursula felt really comfortable around. The other was Susan McCall, a children’s services librarian. Ursula envied Monique in some ways even though she was not a librarian and therefore made less than half of Ursula’s salary. She envied her mostly because Monique was a wife and a mother. At thirty-eight, Ursula was eleven years older than Monique, but had never been married, had never had children, and was resigned to the idea that such a life would forever elude her. She and Monique did have a couple of things in common, though. They both were rather quiet, reserved women who tried to get along without too much confusion. The other thing that Ursula suspected that they secretly had in common, though they’d never discussed it openly, was low-grade depression. This seemed strange to Ursula. She couldn’t imagine being depressed if she had a husband to love her and children of her own. She couldn’t imagine how Monique could be depressed.

Monique was barely five feet two, and the few extra pounds she’d collected were all distributed from the waist up. Maybe her smallness and plumpness made it easier for her to find a husband, Ursula guessed. She felt that being kind of tall and built straight up and down like a light brown Olive Oil limited her attractiveness. Monique also had smooth pretty nutmeg-colored skin and her eyes looked mysteriously melancholy even when she laughed. She and her husband had been married for almost four years. They had a three-year-old daughter and thirteen-month-old identical twin sons. All three of them got dropped off at a baby-sitter’s house every morning before her husband drove her to the library on his way to work at Marlo’s Furniture.

Monique looked worried as she neared Ursula. What you doing standing out here like this for, girl? It’s nine o’clock already. You forgot your key or something?

Oh no, I have my key. But somebody must have left the library unlocked last night. I walked in this morning by just pushing the door open. The alarm wasn’t on, either. And one of those old drunks ran out of the building just as soon as I got there.

What? screeched Monique.

That’s right. And I don’t know who else might be in there, either, so I called security. They’re supposed to be here in a few minutes to inspect the building.

Oh my God! Wonder who left the library unlocked like that? Sounds like something Mr. Spencer might do. You know he kind of senile. He shouldn’t be having no keys to the building no way, old as he is.

Age doesn’t have a thing to do with it, Monique. Jackie and Susan worked the evening shift last night right along with Mr. Spencer, and you know just as well as I do that Jackie could have left that door unlocked herself. It wouldn’t be the first time. She is just as absent-minded as Mr. Spencer.

Monique burst out laughing. Don’t tell her that, though! But maybe you got to be absent-minded to be in charge around here!

Ursula relaxed and started laughing, too. Maybe you’re right, Monique! Between those two, I just don’t know!

Where they at, anyway?

I don’t know where Jackie is. She should be here by now, but I think it’s Mr. Spencer’s day off, isn’t it?

Monique chuckled. "I know I write up the schedules, Ursula, but don’t expect me to remember all that off the top of my head!"

Oh I know! said Ursula apologetically, I was just saying—

Oh, here comes security!

Two men with huge stomachs approached. One was tall with dark skin, neatly cut hair, and a bushy mustache. The other had a light brown clean-shaven face with gray eyes and thin dark wavy hair. They strutted sternly toward Ursula and Monique.

Good morning, they said with curt nods.

I’m Officer Fitzgerald, barked the tall man. Me and Officer Proctor gonna search the building for intruders, and we’ll meet y’all out chere when we done. When the other staff members get chere, have them wait out chere too till me and Officer Proctor finish with our inspection.

Okay, said Ursula nodding. Nobody had to worry about her rushing back in there before then!

Brian Cole, Regional Library Manager of Children’s Services, appeared from the parking area after the officers went inside.

Good morning, ladies, he said with a sharp questioning gaze as he approached. Brian was about five eleven, lean and muscular. His starched cotton shirt was tucked neatly into his dark blue slacks, and his conservative silk tie blended blandly with the outfit.

Brian’s angular face was the color of freshly-ground peanut butter. His eyes were intense. He wore a very close-cut fade, and his moustache and goatee were carefully trimmed. He had recently turned thirty-three, and had been with the Capitol City Library for only four years, but already, he had worked his way a few notches up the organizational ladder. Ursula and Monique were both trying to read his facial expression.

Good morning, they replied in unison.

What’s going on? he asked. Ursula, don’t you have your key? Ursula resented the tone of Brian’s questions. Sometimes he could be very nice, but at other times, he had a way of putting people on the defensive.

Apparently, the library was left unlocked last night, Brian, said Ursula, determined to hide how much it stung when he used that tone with her. And I know it wasn’t me. I didn’t even work the evening shift. Remember? You were still there yourself when I left. Who was supposed to lock up?

I don’t know. I didn’t work the evening shift either. Because if I had been there, we wouldn’t be standing out here discussing this situation in the first place. He shook his head in exasperation. All I know is that Maurice, Susan, Mr. Spencer and Ms. Ramsey were all still there when I left, so there’s no telling what happened. You called security, didn’t you?

Yes. They’re in there searching the building right now.

Good.

You’re running kind of late this morning, Mr. Cole, said Monique pleasantly, You must’ve got caught in the traffic or something. It’s unusual for you to get here after nine.

Yes, I know. I tried to call in, but of course, there was no answer. The baby threw up on me right when we were on our way out of the house. So my wife had to clean her up and change her while I changed my own clothes. Then a disabled pick-up slowed up traffic on our way to the day care. I called here from the Children’s World. Sharon ended up getting to her job late, too.

How is the baby now? Is she all right? Monique asked.

Brian smiled politely at Monique and nodded. His eyes wandered off toward the direction of the Metro station. Katrina Morrison was rushing toward them in the distance. As much as he was determined to mask it, all of his senses came alive as she approached. Katrina moved like the perfect angel and devil blended into one exquisite flesh. Brian was annoyed and gratified to see her. She made him conscious of and hungry for beauty. Today, she had on this form-fitting white turtleneck, white nylon stockings, and a faded denim skirt. Her hair was professionally piled in a stiff black lacquer arrangement at the top of her head. Her complexion was like rich hot chocolate, and her make-up was impeccably applied. Her long manicured nails sported an elaborate design in an ivory hue. Brian was not even concentrating when he answered Yes, to Monique.

Cherie is just fine, he added absently. Thanks for asking.

His last few words were drowned out by a gruff male voice rapping boastful lyrics to the driving bass booming from Derrick’s cherry-red sports car. Derrick Manning swung around to the parking lot burning rubber with a screech. Brian smiled at Monique with a faintly furrowed brow. You might want to have another talk with Ms. Morrison and Mr. Manning about this habitual tardiness, he said gently and smiled with as much reassurance as he could muster. Ursula was aware that Brian thought that Monique was too kind-hearted and sensitive. He realized that it was difficult for her to confront her staff about their frequent problems with tardiness, but he insisted that it had to be done, and the cold fact of the matter was that she was being paid to do it. Ursula noticed a lot about Brian since she’d been working at Sojourner Truth. Plus, he seemed pretty comfortable talking to her. Once, he told her that he thought Ralph was much more qualified to be Circulation Supervisor than Monique could ever be. He said that Ralph was direct, articulate, and a natural self-starter. Monique was just too nice for the job. Ursula would never breathe a word of such talk to Monique. It would cut her to the quick, and Brian seemed to trust Ursula so much partly because she didn’t talk that much.

A couple of minutes later, Katrina and Derrick, two circulation technicians, joined Monique and the librarians waiting in front of the library.

What up? said Derrick, shifting from foot to foot as though he were involved in a ball game itching to make a crucial move. He was six feet two: broad and muscular. He wore a small afro and a full beard and mustache kept cut so close that they were more like shadows on his beige squarish face. He wore a tiny silver hoop in one ear. When it was chilly like this morning, or when he got truly angry, his cheeks took on a dusky rose undertone. He wore faded baggy designer jeans, a loose green T-shirt and a black leather jacket.

What y’all doing standing out here like this? Katrina asked searching their faces with her big doe-like eyes. Just then, Officers Fitzgerald and Proctor walked outside roughly escorting two disheveled men and a frail-looking woman scantily dressed in rags.

Chapter 2

STAFF MEETING

Officer Fitzgerald filled out a security report form with Ursula’s reluctant answers to his questions. The phone rang insistently as the other staff members walked through the heavy glass doors. Katrina picked it up. Good morning! she said with professionally trained perkiness. This is Sojourner Truth Regional Library. How may I help you?

Where y’all been? Jackie yelled through the receiver, Why ain’t nobody been answering the damn telephone? Do you realize what time it is?

Hold up, Jackie!

"Hold up, Jackie, nothing! I been trying to call in since nine o’ five, and here it is damn near nine thirty! It’s almost time to open! My blood pressure is already up, my head is pounding like it’s about to bust wide open, and now this—nobody’s on the daggone job! Can’t y’all do nothing without somebody always hopping on your case? I’m sick! I can’t come in today! Is Mr. Spencer there?"

No. Today is his day off.

No wonder you all tripping!

Nobody tripping, Jackie! Mr. Cole is here.

What the—? Then how come nobody’s been answering the daggone phone, Trina? Suppose somebody from Central Library was trying to get through?

We had to wait outside, Jackie. Somebody left the library unlocked all night.

What?

Ursula was the first one here, and she called security to search the building.

No she didn’t!

What else was she supposed to do?

That girl better stop listening to everything Brian be telling her about running around reporting to Central Library every damn thing that goes on here at the Regional! That makes us all look bad! It makes them think that we can’t run our own ship right. Brian thinks he’s going to get ahead doing that mess, but no telling who Central Library gonna send down here if they try to get rid of me. He wants my job—or should I say he wants Mr. Spencer’s job, but Brian don’t know what he’s getting himself into. This whole mess is making my pressure go up even higher than it was before I got you on the phone! I need to stay in bed and take my medication today, but looks like I’m gonna have to come on in anyway. We’ve got to have a meeting, Trina. I swear. Let me speak to Brian.

Ticked off, Katrina mashed down hard on the red Hold button. She liked Jackie. Jackie was not just her supervisor’s supervisor, but Jackie was Katrina’s friend. They were tight: running partners: best friends, so she hated for Jackie to talk to her like she was nothing. Sometimes, Katrina felt like strangling Miss Smart-Mouth Jackie. Since Jackie was safely on hold and couldn’t hear the impact, Katrina let off some steam by slamming down the receiver. Mr. Cole, she said, Ms. Ramsey’s on line 1. She wants to speak to you.

Thanks. Brian picked up the phone with an impatient, irritated expression on his face which also came out in his voice. This is Brian Cole speaking. May I help you?

Brian! This is Jackie!

You’re on the schedule today. Will you be in?

Yes, Brian. But I’ll be in a little late. I’m not feeling well.

What time do you expect to be here?

Give me a couple of hours. We need to have a meeting this afternoon. Please let the staff know not to take any lunches or breaks from 1:00 until 2:00. That includes librarians as well as support staff. All right? This is important.

What is the meeting about?

About operating procedures.

What operating procedures?

Procedures for running the library like we got some daggone sense! That’s what!

Jackie. Let’s not be impulsive. Why don’t we schedule the meeting for Monday when the entire staff will be here? These things should be planned in advance.

Just give the rest of the staff my message! She slammed down the receiver.

Jackie called back at 1:00 to say that she was on her way.

She finally got to work at 2:10 bringing two giant bags of corn chips, a jar of spicy salsa, one six pack of Diet Coke, and another six pack of Sprite. Sorry I’m late, but my pressure is up. I shouldn’t be here at all today ‘cause I’m sick, but I came in because I heard what happened here this morning. Help yourselves to the soda and chips. I picked them up on my way here. Her brown leather jacket had a strip of raccoon fur around the hood. She took the jacket off and perched herself on the corner of a table behind the circulation desk.

Jackie had on navy blue slacks, a matching vest with brass buttons, and a long-sleeved beige and navy polka dot blouse. She wore three pairs of assorted gold earrings and several gold chains around her neck. Jackie’s skin was like cinnamon. Her hair was arranged in a bone-straight jet-black page-boy, and her two-inch nails were manicured with the same design as Katrina’s, except that Jackie’s nails were pale pink. She was basically slender. Jackie often said that many other forty-five-year-old women that she knew had stomachs sticking out, and rolls of fat around their waists, but she never had that problem. Instead, she said she’d had rather broad hips since she was a teenager. Jackie often complained about her big butt when she’s talking to her girlfriends, but she was secretly proud of it. She seemed almost as tall as Ursula, but that was only because her shoes had chunky three-inch heels, whereas Ursula habitually wore flats. Ursula wanted to make sure that she was comfortable while she ran around the library all day trying to do her job right. The other staff members pulled up chairs and stools or sat atop one of the three desks situated behind the circulation desk.

Trina and Derrick, please keep an eye out for patrons who need to check out materials. She took a sip of her Diet Coke. Now like I was saying: I heard what happened this morning. Mr. Cole asked me why do we have to have a meeting about it today. Why can’t we wait until Monday when everybody is here? Well, I think that the answer is obvious. We all know the primary problem at this library, but everybody seems afraid to admit to it and confront it head on.

I’m not afraid to admit what the problem is, Ms. Ramsey. The problem is a matter of leadership and competence. Brian and Jackie locked steely gazes.

And may I add, Mr. Cole, that there seems to be a lack of unity and trust among our fellow workers? Wouldn’t you agree?

To some extent, I would.

But it seems to me that we as mature capable professionals should be able to solve our problems in cooperative, non-confrontational ways. Do you agree with that as well?

Ms. Ramsey. If you would like to hold a private meeting with me after the general branch meeting, that would save valuable time for the rest of our staff.

Their eyes locked again like those of two alley cats, fiercely arching their backs.

Well, I think that this issue concerns the entire staff, said Jackie.

Then why isn’t the entire staff here?

Mr. Cole, may I finish?

Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry. He could not conceal the contempt in his smile.

"I am concerned about our image at the Central Library and throughout the entire Capital City Library System. Even the five branches that report to us seem to be functioning better than we are. Now we cannot continue to call Central Library to report every little problem that goes on here. There are certain problems that we can handle ourselves, and we should always do all that we can in-house first. Y’all got to use some judgment sometimes, but naw— Jackie waved her hand in theatrical exasperation as she continued. Always calling security. Always calling this one and that one. Here and there. Back and forth. That’s got to stop. That makes the administrators at Central Library think that we can’t run our own ship. We can’t let them think that. I realize that some of us believe that we as individuals can look good and get ahead by pointing the finger at one another here at Sojourner Truth Regional. But let me tell you. They can send someone else—who you really won’t like—to take this sh—!"

"Shhh—Jackie, Katrina whispered loudly, The patrons can hear you!"

"—take this mess over in a heartbeat!"

Jackie grinned at Katrina in comic relief. Everyone laughed. Even Brian smiled, but his eyes remained hard.

Okay, Jackie whispered holding her pointer playfully to her lips. Then she clutched the desk that she sat on with both hands while making eye contact with each of them.

"Brian just mentioned a lack of leadership and competence that he perceives here at Sojourner Truth. I hate to say it, but we’ve got to call a spade a spade. I, as Assistant Regional Library Manager, am doing all that I can possibly do. And as far as I know, Mr. Cole, as Regional Library Manager for Children’s Services, is doing the best he can. But Mr. Spencer: I love him like a father. He’s a dear sweet old man. And he was first rate in the field in his day. But as much as I hate to say it, Mr. Spencer ain’t got no business being the Regional Manager of jack. Library management is a big job, and truth be told, it is too much for Mr. Spencer. I just can’t keep doing my own job and his, too—all by myself. That’s why my pressure is climbing off the charts right now!"

Are you saying that you’re running this library single-handedly? Brian could hardly restrain his tongue from adding, You are hardly ever even here! And then when you do come—late I must add—you sit around and gossip with the circulation technicians while the other librarians—including Old Man Spencer—are actually working.

Ursula watched from the corner of her eye as Brian took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself and to forcibly hold his tongue.

"I am saying, Mr. Cole, that Mr. Spencer is no longer capable of running this library, and that we all look bad as a result. Now. We’re going to have to isolate the problem. We have to start documenting the things that Mr. Spencer is doing and not doing. Then after a period of several months documenting this behavior, we’ll have to compile it and send it to the Head of Branch Services at Central Library and let them deal with him from there. I don’t know if you all know it, but it was Mr. Spencer who left that door unlocked last night. Do you realize how dangerous that mess is? I told the man to go home. Maurice was trying to lock up, but no. We couldn’t convince Mr. Spencer to leave the building. Talking about he’s got to work on updating the shelflist and all this other useless, unnecessary outdated mess that he ain’t got no more business doing than the man in the moon. I mean, this is the last decade of the Twentieth Century, got dammit, and here he is acting like we still in the eighteen hundreds! If Central Library only knew what Mr. Spencer be up here wasting precious library time and money doing—but I ain’t even gonna go there. The point is that each one of us has got to jot down little things that we see him screwing up on, and we each have got to tighten up on our own thang, too.

"I know I’m going to be stepping on some corns as I get more specific here, but I have to comment on the appearance of our workplace. We’ve been having problems with roaches. There’s not a whole lot that we can do about that problem until Central Library sends around their exterminators, but we’ve got to stop eating food and dropping crumbs all over the building. Furthermore, somebody back here has been dropping little circles of paper on the floor from the three-hole puncher. Can’t you drop the little circles of paper in the trash can instead of in the middle of the daggone floor? It don’t make no kind of sense to be that trifling!

Now Maurice. You are our building engineer.

Maurice Rogers, fifty-two, sat with his arms folded stubbornly over his pudgy stomach. He was quite slim except for that beer belly that hung over his trousers, his double chin, jowls, and the roll of fat at the back of his head. Maurice was clean-shaven and wore a curly perm in his hair. He had very little patience for Jackie Ramsey’s tirades. She could run her mouth as much as she wanted to because he just let it roll off his back and kept on stepping.

Your job description includes maintaining this building inside and out.

Yep. he said indifferently.

Now Maurice! These trash cans haven’t been emptied since Tuesday! And here it is Friday afternoon! This is terrible! I’m tired of telling you this mess, now! And the women’s room—I swear—sometimes I hate to go in there! And sometimes—the smell—especially from the ones down in the basement—like to knock you down before you ever even get near the door! Disinfectants should always be used when mopping and cleaning the bathrooms! The bathrooms must be kept clean and supplied with paper towels, toilet paper and soap at all times!

"Jackie. I do the best I can, but patrons be going in and out of there all day. I clean the baffrooms, but I ain’t going to be doing it constantly! Besides, I got other things to do. I got duties at the other branches in the region, too. You know that! What you think? You think I got time to go in there to clean after every nasty tail fool that go in them baffrooms? Hell no! Ain’t that much money in the world!"

See? said Jackie, "That’s the kind of attitude that holds Sojourner Truth Regional back from reaching our full potential. That’s the kind of attitude that makes us all look bad. You all know how I do the best that I can! I buy air deodorizers with my own hard-earned cash to try to combat some of the funk from these street people who be sitting up in this library all day. Not that the air sprays do much good—"

Air sprays ain’t gonna do no good down in that basement, Maurice cut in, "I’m telling you right now, that basement needs major structural work. All them leaks and floods we done had down there over the years done caused major damage. So you got that mildew smell coming from behind them walls. And ain’t no windows or nothing down there, see?"

I know, said Monique frowning, It’s real close down there. For real. I get a headache when I go down there. That’s why I don’t eat down in that kitchen.

Sounds like sick building syndrome, Ursula added.

Well whatever you want to call it, said Maurice, "Ain’t no amount of disinfectant or air spray gonna do jack against the odor in that basement. It’s deep down in the walls and under them floorboards. You talking about major work and serious money. And the D.C. government ain’t been giving up no capital improvement money!"

Point well taken, said Jackie, "but when I spray in here, at least it shows that I’m putting forth some effort, and that’s all I’m asking you all to do. Put forth some effort! And I’m warning you: you all had better get serious around here! The government is going to cut back on this library budget even more than it has already, and folks who are not pulling their own weight had better watch out! Ain’t gonna be that kind of party no more! Heads gonna roll!"

Susan McCall raised her small plump hand timidly.

Yes, Susan?

Well, Jackie. I’ve been meaning to talk to you and Albert and the rest of the staff about my allergy problems. I’m sorry to bring it up like this, but my condition seems to have gotten worse lately, and yesterday morning when I was at the doctor’s, he told me that I really need to stay away from strong chemicals and air fresheners and perfume and all until this thing clears up. I’ve always been kind of sensitive to those things, but it’s gotten much worse in recent weeks. And I was just hoping that the staff could stop using those things around in the library until my condition improves.

Jackie gave Susan a "child please look. And when is that supposed to be, Susan?"

I don’t really know. Susan looked very uncomfortable. I can get a note from my doctor if you want, she added apologetically.

Well, we’ll have to discuss that in greater detail after the meeting, said Jackie impatiently.

Brian looked up at the clock. It was 3:07. Neighborhood latch-key kids, still clad in their blue and white public school uniforms, began filing in the door. Some of them waved at the staff as they entered.

Ms. Ramsey, our young patrons are arriving, said Brian. They cannot be left upstairs in the children’s reading room unsupervised.

Derrick, baby, said Jackie sweetly, Would you please go up to the children’s room for awhile until we can wrap up this meeting? There are a few other things we still need to cover.

Look, Jackie, said Derrick. I’m circ. Don’t be trying to send me upstairs with them little niggaz! I ain’t going!

Derrick!

All other eyes glanced automatically at Susan, who was the only other white staff member at Sojourner Truth Regional besides Albert Spencer.