A Gay Librarian, a Gay Kid, and Oscar Wilde
By: James Finn
Tags: Social Justice, Education, LGBTQ, Fiction, Equality

The librarian clutched the book with one hand and flicked the feather duster with the other. He watched Dewey Decimal numbers flash by as he worked his way down the stacks.

He clucked.

He’d allowed too much dust to accumulate on spines. Most of them probably hadn’t been touched in years. Well, at least he was killing two birds with one stone. Finally … 306.77. Human sexuality. Sexual orientation.

He slipped a crisp new copy of The Front Runner between two hefty psychology tomes and worked his way back toward his desk by the card catalogs. He thought about dinner. Should he pick up pizza or Chinese on the way home? He wondered what he’d choose to fill his evening. Perhaps a phone call to the man he’d met at the bar in Des Moines the weekend before? Perhaps a quick (but not too quick) rendez-vous?

Or maybe just a little TV.

There!

The boy walked in, right on schedule. He glanced around as furtively as ever before slipping into the stacks, headed straight for the 300s where he’d be sure to spot the novel Pawel had chosen for him.

Pleased with his timing, the librarian sat, pulled out a budget request form, and started flipping through a Scholastic catalog looking for other unassuming works of gay literature he could slip past Jessica’s prim little nose.

He was inserting the form into his IBM Selectric when a chipper voice interrupted. “Well, don’t you look nice today!”

Rachel leaned up against the checkout counter, all glowing skin, white teeth, and optimism. “That bow tie is so charming. I’ve wanted to tell you that.”

“Have you? You’re kind, Miss Weinberg, but I’m well aware that I look like a stodgy Mr. Rogers. No need for false flattery, my dear.”

Her laugh startled him, full of genuine mirth. “Oh my goodness! I’d never have thought of that. You do look like him! No wonder I like you. Fred Rogers is the best, but he needs a Jewish mother like mine to feed him, the poor skinny thing.”

Pawel fumbled for something to say, stuttering as he spotted the boy reaching for a book right by the 306s. “You like me? I don’t usually make an impression so quickly.”

“Jessica may miss your humor, the fussy old battle axe, but it never flies over my head. The way you pretend to be dry and boring. You crack me up!”

Pawel bit down a smile as he watched the boy heading toward the exit. “Oh, James!” he called, standing and directing his voice over Rachel’s shoulder. “Could you step over here for just a second?”

Pawel looked pointedly away as the boy fumbled the book into his Trapper Keeper, not nearly as surreptitiously as he probably intended. “James?” he asked as the boy stepped up beside Rachel, eyes a bit too wide. “Don’t let me keep you if you’re in a hurry, but I just wanted to give you this.”

He handed the boy an audition flier. “A play. The Importance of Being Earnest. Do you know it? Have you thought about trying out?”

“Um … no? A play? But why would you ask …”

“Because I’m the director. We have a little drama club that meets after school three nights a week, and every year, I invite students I think have talent and promise. So… will you come?”

The boy’s eyes glued themselves to the floor. “Talented? Me?”

“If you’re shy, it’s perfectly all right. We have plenty of things that need doing that don’t involve reading lines. Can I count on you?”

James started to mumble, clearly caught off guard. Rachel beamed sunshine at him, melting him into silence. “I’d like to ask you too. Mr. Kozlowski doesn’t know this yet, but I’m crazy good with a saw and hammer, so I’m pitching in with sets this year. He’ll never manage on his own. Will you help us out? It’s going to be tons of fun, I promise. Whatever you decide to do.”

The boy’s face contorted slightly as a smile threatened to bloom. “I … um, yeah… Sure, thanks for asking?”

The period bell clanged, and a muffled roar of voices and feet filtered in through the library doors. “Gotta go,” mumbled James, almost sprinting to the exit. He turned and waved before he left.

Pawel turned to his new accomplice. “Teaching now?” he asked.

Rachel shook her head. “Free period. I should go grade papers, though. Can I ask you something first?”

“Can I stop you?”

“Why did you let him steal that book?”

“He didn’t steal it. He always returns them. I’m no Lady Bracknell, dear. We’ll leave that role for Jessica. What would she say? I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone.”

Rachel laughed. “It’s not really a comedy of manners, is it, Pawel?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Earnest? But, of course it is. What else would it be?”

“Well, it might be a little subversive. Maybe even as subversive as you.”

“I have no idea what you mean. But I do thank you for offering to help. You’re right, I’m miserable with sets. And thanks for helping with James. I wasn’t handling that well either.”

“Maybe, but if you weren’t, I don’t imagine that’s often a problem for you.”

Pawel cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Don’t start thinking I’m some sort of miracle worker around here. You know the teachers mostly don’t like me? Jessica barely tolerates me. I’m not a good choice of role model, young lady.”

“Young lady! As if you were an old man. Don’t be silly. What are you, 40? 45 at the most?”

Pawel smiled slyly. “Forty? Why, I’m 35, my dear. 35 is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained 35 for years.”

Rachel started to chuckle, then broke down laughing. “You see? You are subversive. And so funny! And … listen. One more question? Then I really must run.”

Pawel sat and turned back to his book order. “Of course.”

“So long as you’re adding to your collection, I mean of misfit toys, would you add me too? I really am a good carpenter, and I do want to help with the play, but mostly I need somebody to show me how to survive here. I don’t know how you do it. I have no idea how I’m supposed to manage, especially once the inevitable … well, once they see me around town with my girlfriend.”

He turned to her, frowning. “Did you know Earnest was Wilde’s greatest success?”

“I think so. Commercially, you mean?”

“Mmm. Did you know it was his last success? That the Marquess of Queensberry was already plotting? That he tried to show up at the opening with rotten vegetables and accusations of sodomy and corruption of morality?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Wilde found out and stopped him, but he couldn’t stop him forever.”

“Right. Reading Gaol. Exile. Dying alone in Paris. Dreadful.”

“That’s why I help James discover the books he needs and why I don’t let him know it’s me helping him. Do you understand?”

She stood silent for a moment, then nodded. “I do. Totally. Hey, I really gotta scoot. See you later?” Her voiced dropped to a lower pitch and lost its cheerful confidence. “Um, maybe dinner sometime, if I’m not pushing my luck?”

Pawel smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day. “You know, I think I would like that very much. Very much, indeed. Thank you.”

Rachel was halfway to the door before she called over her shoulder. “But only if we’re serious about dinner! I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.”

“That’s the spirit!” called Pawel as he bent back over his budget request. “You’re a quick study.”

He was still smiling 20 minutes later as he finished his new book order. He couldn’t wait to slip a couple into just the right spot in the stacks.