Went to the library this morning to look for The Fiery Cross, Diana Gabaldon's fourth book in the Outlander series. I'd read the first three right before I got married, then read them through at least twice more while still living in Germany. By the time book four came out in 2001, purchasing English-language books was still pricey, as we hadn't gone online yet, and I didn't have access to Amazon.co.uk. So, I lost track of the series, altogether. Now there are six books in the series, if I'm not mistaken, so I decided to get a leg up and break away from the likes of Stephen King. I'm in need of a little unadulterated romance in my life, and a good time-travel book seems in order.
I had to look for my library card. It's been years since I'd used it and wasn't sure where it might be. In fact, the last time I was at the library at all was with Alex, fostering his love of a good story and the written word. When I found the card nestled in the pocket of an unused wallet (a relic from Germany and a former life) that had been shoved to the back of my desk, tucked behind the last school picture I owned of my son, I noticed that it not only had to be renewed, but that my married name (naturally) was on it. Seeing that surname connected to my own still gives me a pang of discomfort. As well, it felt bittersweet to return to the library--but without my energetic little boy in tow, who so clearly loved to visit and had so many interesting books to choose from.
When I found what I wanted (and then some!), I checked out. The librarian surprised me with an overdue fine from July 2007. I believe that was day I'd first taken Alex to the library and gotten each of us a library card. For all subsequent visits, Alex had checked out his own books. The fee was for 1.25, which sadly enough, I did not have on hand! When I asked for the title of the book, the librarian gave me a puzzled little frown.
"Harry's Horrible Secret," she said. "It's a children's book. Does that sound right to you?"
"Yes," I said, the loss squeezing my heart. "It was for my son."
"Well," she responded after a moment's consideration. "I'll forgive it for you. That was three years ago and it's only $1.25."
Three years ago. Can you imagine? I was two months separated, still delirious about having finally escaped my ex-husband's insanity. Well, not entirely escaped, but certainly no longer immersed in it. So full of hope and exhilaration and freedom, pleased as punch that I had removed my son from Alfi's constant influence to give him a sense of normalcy and calm and quietude, after a day at school and a few hours of his father's chaos until I picked him up after work.
The best laid plans of mice and men, often go awry...
Oh, the irony of it all.