Page 1 of First Touch

Chapter One

Thea

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel. Let down your long hair!” My deepened voice shouts to the top of the “tower,” my pinkie finger and thumb wiggling enthusiastically inside the gnome puppet. It’s a haggard representation of a prince, but the library only has so many options for story time, and it’s up to me to challenge the imagination.

With my left hand resting on the top of my head, pretending my upper half is the tower from the story, I wiggle my fingers to gain the attention of the children sitting in front of me.

“Oh, my prince, my prince!” The squeaky princess voice earns a few giggles from my little crowd.

“The prince has just arrived from a long journey. Should Rapunzel let her hair down for him?” I ask my eager audience in my normal voice, ad-libbing the story because I don’t have the book in front of me.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The children shout before covering their mouths and snickering. They know to keep their voices down, but they also know I wouldn’t truly scold them for being excited.

I flip my long blonde hair over my shoulder, letting the braid that I wore specifically for today hang down past my chest. “Okay, here he goes.”

With an exaggerated display, my gnome prince climbs the strands of my braid until he makes it to the top of my head. My hands embrace, letting my puppets hug, while some of the children giggle and others gag, unimpressed with the love story that I’m telling.

“Rapunzel, I sent your mother far far away. You won’t be trapped in this tower ever again!” The gnome prince professes.

“Thank you, my prince. You’ve saved me!” Rapunzel squeaks. My hands fall back down to my lap with fatigue. Holding Rapunzel over my head for so long made my shoulder tingle.

“They lived happily ever after.” I finish with a seated bow, folding at my waist over my bent knees, while the kiddos clap from the big rug in front of me that resembles a map.

The average age in the story time group is four years old, so they don’t mind a simplified fairy tail. They also don’t care if I mess up any details in the stories I tell. They simply enjoy being here, making fun of my silly expressions, and giggling at my demonstrations.

“Miss Thea?” Junie asks from her seat on the floor, her red pigtails swaying from the intensity of her raised hand bouncing in the air.

“Yes, Junie,” I answer, though I’m sure I know what she’s about to ask.

“Can we have one more story? Please, please!” She pleads, and all the other seven kids take note, pretending to beg. Their little voices in unison make me laugh.

“No more stories today. I’m sorry you guys. Our time is up and your grown-ups are waiting.” The kids turn and twist in their crisscross applesauce positions on the rug trying to get a peak at their parents who are lingering on the edges of the library, kindly giving us space.

Sometimes the children get pulled into the world I’ve created for them, forgetting where they are temporarily. I take it as a sign that I’m doing a good job.

Once they get a sight of their loved ones, they’re jumping up from their spots and taking off, but not before telling me thank you. Some even take an extra second to hug me.

“Next story time is on Tuesday. 3 o’clock!” I announce to their retreating forms, knowing that most of them will most likely be here, rain or shine.

That’s what I like about New Hope. In the two years that I’ve been here, the small town has embraced me and made me fall in love with its charms. My college was in a beach town and you’d hardly ever see a familiar face. It’s different here.

I’ve been around the same families since I started, the locals know my name, and my coworkers are my friends. Although, none of them are my age. It’s cozy and the interactions are warm and familiar.

I gather my story time props, storing them away for next time, silently reflecting on my story about Rapunzel. Maybe I chose it because I know what it feels like to be locked in a tower. Figuratively trapped away in solitude with my future just out of reach. Desperately hoping my circumstances will change even though they seem to be set in stone… If only it was as easy as a prince saving me from myself.

Sighing, I shake those thoughts as I join Latisha at the front island. It’s the checkout counter for all intents and purposes, but we call it the island because it sits precariously in the center between the adult and children’s sides of the library. It forms a perfect circle and also gives us a nice view out the windows into the courtyard.

I love this library. I love this town. I love my coworkers. Everything is perfect. Aside from the one void in my life that is out of my control. A void that I’ve spent years trying to overcome. Years of crying and feeling sorry for myself.

I’ve promised myself that I’d try to accept that I might be broken forever. It’s easier than getting my hopes up for a different outcome. The reality is that we don’t all get our fairy tale ending like Rapunzel.

“Hey Miss la la land,” Latisha snags my attention by whispering over my shoulder. She, more than almost anyone, knows how far I get into my head. At the young age of 53, she has become like a second mom to me. She welcomed me into her library with open arms. I say her library because she’s the one who put her blood, sweat, and tears into making it as extraordinary as it is.

She applied for grants and donations until her fingers went numb, would sleep on it, and then start again the next day. Her determination got us the updates in the building, the courtyard, and our fancy island with our new computers.

She was also responsible for creating my position and tells me often that she wants me to take over running things once she retires. I always remind her that it will be at least twenty more years before she’s ready to give it up.

“Snap out of it, sister.”

---