parent+and+child

Parent and Child

The small, hard-looking woman came down the stairs to the belly of the library, a gray-haired gentleman trailing behind her. Her movements and her clothes were efficient, almost medical. “Sit right here,” she said quickly, guiding him toward a wooden chair she pulled out from a reading table.

“Right here?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Right here. I’ll go get you a magazine.”

“Are you coming back to sit here by me?”

He was like a child, happy to be told what to do, eager to know what was coming next. And she, much younger than he, played the part of the kind but impatient mother.

“No, I’m gonna be there, at the computers.” She pointed to the cubicles behind his head.

His eyes followed the line of her finger. “Oh, okay.”

“I’ll go get you a magazine.”

She walked over to the magazines, sharp eyes surveying the selection. The old man started drumming his table loudly: thump, thump, thump-thump-thump. Thump, thump, thump-thump-thump. The woman jogged back toward him.

“Shhhh, no no!” He stopped, and began looking all around as if he had never visited a library before. She hurriedly grabbed a magazine and opened it up for him, laying it close to the lamp on his reading table. She showed him again where she’d be, then chose a computer and sat down, hidden inside a cubicle.

“Hi there!” The old man greeted a passing librarian. “How you doing? Where’s my little lady?”

The librarian smiled and pointed to where his daughter presently popped up, waving to show him she was still there.

Reassured, he resumed surveying the room, not reading his magazine. He looked at the people, saying, “How you doing?” to anyone who passed nearby. A male librarian walked past with a cart full of books to shelve and the old man asked, “Are you gonna get me a drink?”

Before the librarian could convey his confusion, the daughter jumped up from her computer and took five purposeful steps toward her father, saying, “Sh-sh-sh-sh! I’ll be just a minute longer!”

“Are you coming over here?” He smiled at her.

“Yes, just a minute.”

“A minute. Okay.”

She sat down again. He said hello to a few more people. “Are you getting me something to drink?” he asked no one in particular.

From the cubicles, her voice: “Yes, right now.”

Thump, thump, thump-thump-thump went his palms on the table. “I’d appreciate it if you got me something to drink.” He was getting louder, though he was still smiling. It seemed he had no reason to question his right to converse with his daughter across the quiet expanse of the reference section. “Do you want me to come over there with you?”

Her face appeared, peering around the corner, and then her tanned little hand, motioning with one finger for him to come and sit next to her. Her lips were lighter than the rest of her face, almost white when she pressed them together to shush her father one more time.

“Are you getting me something to drink?” he asked as he sat down next to her.

“Yes, in just a minute.”