That's the part that gets the librarians the maddest, they get real upset if folks start drooling in the books and, page powder or not, they don't want to hear no excuses, you gotta get out. Drooling in the books is even worse than laughing out loud in the library, and even though it might seem kind of mean, you can't really blame the librarians for tossing drooly folks out 'cause there's nothing worse than opening a book and having the pages all stuck together from somebody's dried-up slobber.
I opened my eyes to start looking for Miss Hill. She wasn't at the lending desk so I left my suitcase with the white lady there. I knew it would be safe.
I walked between the stacks to see if Miss Hill was putting books up. Three doggone times I walked through the library, upstairs and down, and couldn't find her.
I went back up to the librarian at the lending desk. I waited until she looked up at me. She smiled and said, "Yes? Would you like to retrieve your suitcase?" She reached under the desk.
I said, "Not yet, ma'am, could I ask you a question?" She said, "Of course, young man, how may I help you?" "I'm looking for Miss Hill."
The librarian looked surprised. "Miss Hill? My goodness, hadn't you heard?"
Uh-oh ! That's Number 16 of Jojon Crichton's Rules and Things for Having a Funner Life and Making a Better Liar Out of Yourself, that's one of the worst ones.
RULES AND THINGS NUMBER 16
If a Grown-up Ever Starts a Sentence by Saying "Haven't You Heard, "Get Ready, 'Cause What's About to Come Out of Their Mouth Is Gonna Drop You Head first into a Boiling Tragedy.
It seems like the answer to "Haven't you heard" always has something to do with someone kicking the bucket. And not kicking the bucket in a calm, peaceful way like a heart attack at home in bed either, it usually is some kind of dying that will make your eyes buck out of your head when you hear about it, it's usually the kind of thing that will run you out of a room with your hands over your ears and your mouth wide open.
Something like hearing that your grandmother got her whole body pulled through the wringer on a washing machine, or something like hearing about a horse slipping on the ice and landing on some kid you went to school with.
I answered, "No, ma'am," and got my stomach ready to hear about Miss Hill biting the dust in some way that was going to give me nightmares.
The librarian said, "There's no need for you to look so stricken. It's not bad news, young man."
She laughed a quiet, librarian-type laugh and said, "Really, it's not bad news. Unless you had matrimonial plans concerning Miss Hill."
I pretended I knew what she was talking about, most times if you listen to how grown folks ask a question they let you know what it is they want to hear.
I said, "No, ma'am, I didn't plan that at all."
She laughed again and said, "Good, because I don't think her new husband would appreciate the competition. Chariemae... Miss Hill is currently living in Chicago, Illinois."
I said, "Husband? You mean she got married, ma'am?"
The librarian said, "Oh, yes, and I must tell you, she was radiating happiness." I said, "And she moved all the way to Chicago?"
"That's right, but Chicago isn't that far. Here, I'll show you."
She reached under her desk and pulled out a thick leather book called Atlas of the United States of America.
She thumbed through a couple of pages and said, "Here we are." She turned the book to me, it was a big map of Michigan and a couple of the states that were next to it"
"We're here." She pointed to the spot that said Flint. "And Chicago is here in Illinois."
They looked pretty close, but I know how tricky maps can be, shucks, they can put the whole world on one page on a map, so I said, "How long would it take someone to walk that far?"
She said, "Oh, dear, quite a while, I'm afraid. Let's check the distance."
She reached under the desk and pulled out another thick book called Standard Highway Mileage Guide and turned to a page that had a million numbers and city names on it. She showed me how to find Chicago on the line that was running across the page and Flint on the line that was running down the page and then to look at the number that was writ where the two of them joined up. It said 270.
She pulled a pencil out and said, "OK, this is how one figures the amount of time required to walk to Chicago. Now--" She pulled a third book out.
Shucks, this is one of the bad things about talking to librarians, I asked one question and already she had us digging through three different books.
She thumbed through the book until she said, "Aha, it says here that the average male human gait is five miles an hour. OK, assuming that you could cover five miles an hour, all we have to do is divide two hundred seventy by five."
She did it and said, "Fifty-four hours! Much too long to be practical. No, I'm afraid you'll simply have to wait until Mrs. Rollins comes back to Flint for a visit."
Shucks. Chicago might as well be a million miles away from Flint and Miss Hill might as well be a squashed, crunched-up mess in a washing machine when it came down to helping me now.
I thanked the librarian for the bad news and went to sit at one of the big heavy tables so I could think what to do next.
Going back to the Home was out, it used to be that we'd get a new kid every once in a while, but lately it seems like there's a couple of new kids every day, mostly babies, and they're most always sick. It's not like it was when I first got there, shucks, half the folks that run it don't even tell you their name and don't remember yours unless you're in trouble all the time or getting ready to move out.
After while I got my suitcase and walked into the regular air and stinking smells of Flint. That library door closing after I walked out was the exact kind of door Momma had told me about. I knew that since it had closed the next one was about to open.
I went back under my tree and before I knew it I was asleep.