Page 63 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
“Come on. Those pictures are amazing. You should post them,” Jonathan advised.
“No, I shouldn’t.” Elliot was adamant. “I promised I wouldn’t, and I have no interest in being as awful as she is. And please tell me you won’t say anything, either. Hopefully this will all pass in time.”
It took a couple of weeks for the hysteria to build—for harmless stories to be embellished until they were nothing but blatant lies. A video of Elliot showing the cast of his production ofChicagohow to do a Fosse hip roll was posted online, along with a note of encouragement—You were fabulous today, dahling!—that Elliot had given a sophomore boy. When the school’s musical-theater students rallied around Elliot, a group of parents claimed it proved their kids had been brainwashed. Led by Beverly Underwood, the school board came to Elliot’s defense and refused to reprimand him. But the damage was done. Elliot’s private life was suddenly public. Even a trip to the Piggly Wiggly could be an ordeal. Once, the mother of a high school student had grabbed an egg carton out of his cart and smashed the contents with her fist.
“That’s what I’ll do to you if I ever catch you talking to Whitney,” she’d said.
“Okay,” Elliot responded. He had no idea who Whitney was. There had never been a girl by that name in his class.
When the school year ended, Elliot resigned. He left Troy, his dream job, and his best friend behind. And he was fine. He didn’t turn to drugs or plunge into the depths of depression. He got a new job in a part of the country where musical directors are assumed to be gay until proven otherwise. He had a nice boyfriend and a cute cat. His apartment was tasteful and located near a big park. But whenever he and Jonathan spoke on the phone, it was clear Elliot was not the same person. He’d lost something that no one should have to lose. No, that wasn’t right, Jonathan had to remindhimself. Elliot Minter hadn’tlostanything. His peace of mind, his sense of safety, his belief that most people were good at heart—whatever it was that was no longer there—had been stolen by Lula Dean.
When the three o’clock bell rang, Jonathan strapped his messenger bag across his chest and rode the wave of rowdy kids out of the school and into the parking lot. He left his car sitting in its spot. His brain was still buzzing with anger, and he needed to walk.
His destination lay on the other side of town. Along the way, he passed Troy’s elementary school, which had let out thirty minutes earlier. A woman rushing down the front stairs nearly barreled into him. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Jonathan!”
He stopped and squirmed. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s Crystal. Crystal Moore? You and I met at Elliot Minter’s house a few times.”
There had to be a glitch in the matrix. This was not the Crystal Moore he’d met. That woman wore ballet flats and knee-length skirts. He couldn’t remember the color of her hair, but she’d kept it pulled back in a butterfly barrette. This was a black-clad, auburn-haired goddess with a crescent moon pendant dangling from a golden chain around her neck.
“I know.” She filled in the silence when he found himself unable to speak. “I’ve changed since you last saw me. I had the world’s best midlife crisis.”
“Well, it certainly suits you,” Jonathan said. “You look happy and free. Which way are you heading?”
“Across town,” Crystal told him. “And you?”
“I’m going that way, too. Mind if I tag along?”
When his wife, Jess, was dying, she’d seen marvelous things. Visions of a past she’d never experienced, and a future she would never visit. On severaloccasions, Jonathan had entered her hospital room and found her deep in discussion with relatives and ancestors who’d long been dead. They told her things, Jess confided. Most of what she learned she kept to herself. Then, one day when he visited her in the hospital, Jess had announced there would be another woman in Jonathan’s life. She described her in detail, down to the color of her dress. Beaming with happiness, she took his hand and said she approved.
“No, you’re the only woman I love,” Jonathan had told her. “Nothing will ever change that.”
“You’ve let them tell you what love is.” Jess pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. “They havenoidea.”
It wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. In fact, it all seemed so ridiculous that he began to question everything Jess had said after they added the palliative drugs to her IV. He knew his life would end when she died. He had no interest in surviving.
After her funeral, he told Elliot as much.
“Jess said you’d say that,” Elliot responded. “She had me promise I’d get you through.”
He’d made good on that promise. Thanks to Elliot, Jonathan was no longer in danger. But the idea of loving another woman still felt impossible. In the years since Jess had died, no one had caught his eye or captured his interest. Troy was hardly a bachelor’s paradise, and Jonathan had gotten used to the loneliness. The person Jess had seen was just a hallucination. This was the South, where ladies loved color. Jess had described a woman in black.
As they approached Lula Dean’s library, Jonathan slowed. “This is my destination,” he said, though he didn’t want the walk to end. Their conversation had felt effortless. His blood pressure had lowered, and his skull was no longer throbbing.
Crystal cocked her head and smiled, and for a moment he was worriedshe was judging him. “Mine, too,” she told him. “Have you visited before?” she asked cautiously.
“I’ve browsed the shelves, but I’ve never borrowed anything. But I remembered seeing a particular book, and I wanted to find out if it’s still here.”
“May I guess which book?” Crystal asked.
“Sure,” Jonathan replied.
“Was itManhood?”
She knew. He could see it. They both turned in unison to face the little library. Their eyes scoured each of the shelves.
