A Finished Book, An Empty Life

         Elise was an eighteen year old girl, becoming a woman, living with her parents in a small home on the suburbs of the city. She was an only child and has lived in that small home with her small bedroom her whole life. Her parents were still married, still kissed each other goodbye every morning before going to work and kissed each other goodnight before going to bed. They had a cat, her name was Kit, and it was an almost certain thing to see her everyday drowsing on the same spot on the brown leather couch that adorned the bland living room. Elise usually sat on that same brown leather couch to read.
         Elise loved books.
         She read everything she could get her hands on: science-fiction, fiction, biographies, romance, famous literature, essays, or informative books. She had started to read ever since she was eight and had read them all. Sometimes Elise’s mother or father would arrive home and see Elise sitting in front of the cat, both of them on the same brown leather couch, in the same spot as they were just this morning. Elise was driven by an internal flame, having to read all the pages and all the words from cover to cover as fast as she could. Some days she would read maybe three books, or if the books were rather lengthy just one. A day did not pass by where Elise did not flip a page to start the next. It was her coffee in the morning, it was her food, it was her fuel, it’s what made her tick. These were the things she mused to herself as she got up in the morning, picked up the book that was resting expectantly on her night dresser, and started to read.
         On this particular day, it was a Tuesday. It was one of those days that was slow to start and slow to finish. It was maybe noon, the sun was lazy in the sky and didn’t emit much heat. Elise closed the cover of her book and sighed the sigh of a satisfied reader—she was finished. She rather enjoyed this one. Lots of adventure, a little bit of romance in it, some facts here and there. It was good. Likely she would read it again in the future.
         Setting the book down on the table, Elise rose from the couch. She stretched a little, looking out the window to see the street outside. There wasn’t much; the house she was in was on a cul-de-sac with lots of families. The parents were out at work and the kids were probably in day-care. Teenagers were probably still asleep. Elise liked to think they were bears, except teenagers hibernated during the summer.
         Summer vacation, mused Elise as she made her way over to the kitchen. Still dressed in the pajamas she wore to sleep, Elise opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the milk. She scuffled around the kitchen, getting out a spoon and bowl and cereal. Wheaties. She should really tell her dad to get something better.
         Summer vacation. Elise had just completed high school. She had her diploma, had been an average student with As and Bs and Cs mixed together over the years. Teachers didn’t think highly or lowly of her. She had a few friends, but she wasn’t popular.
         Summer vacation. Elise had to make the decision—should she go to college? What college? What would she major in? What should her career be? All very good questions. She thought she might have a vague idea about it…kind of like a picture buried underneath the sand. She keeps swiping at the sand to get a clearer picture, but there’s a lot of sand. But she’s confident that she’ll figure out the answers soon. College was supposed to be a big adventure, thought Elise. Dryly she compared college to the big stunt-defying, bullets-flying adventure that she read in her books. Uh-huh, sure, college would be an adventure.
         After orderly putting away the bowl, the spoon, the milk and the cereal, she picked up her newly finished book and went to her room. The room’s walls were white. The bed cover was a pale blue. Her night dresser was a dark mahogany. She had a Persian rug that her parents had bought her a few years ago. A TV was in the corner. She didn’t watch much of it.
         In the corner was a stack of books. There were five in all. Walking over there, kneeling down, she put her finished book down and looked at the stacked ones. She read them all this past week. She would have to go to the library today to get new ones. Pretty soon, she might have to switch to a new library. The one she was using now she had been using for a few years. Elise felt like she could picture mentally in her mind all the books in the library. She must’ve read most of them by now, and the other few she just didn’t care to read. Yes, she did have a few requirements regarding books.
         Taking her six books in her Honda Civic, it was a short five minute drive to the library. Absent-mindedly, obvious that she had done this a thousand times, she made a quick cut to the check-in section, neatly dropped her books in, and made a straight bee-line to the adult section. She browsed leisurely through the titles, picking a book or two here that she read a long time ago but liked, picking a book that last time she wasn’t sure about but what the heck she’d give it a go, picking a book here that must be new, a book there that got good reviews. She had five books and it had taken her almost forty-five minutes. Not bad time, she thought. Sometimes she was in here for an hour and a half.
         Digging in her pocket for her library card, the one she has used ever since she was eight and hadn’t lost once, she went to the check-out section. She set her books on the counter with her library card on top and finally looked up. She stared right into the eyes of a young man, maybe a year or two older than herself. He was ordinary looking with a straight nose, a mouth, brown eyes and short brown hair. Nothing striking about him. Ordinary. Maybe like herself.
         The ordinary man smiled. Elise tentatively smiled back.
         “Hello,” the man said as he started to check the books out. Elise had never seen him here before. He must be new. His sluggish-like quality at checking out the books attested to the fact. “You like books?”
         “Yes,” Elise answered.
         “I could tell. You were looking for almost an hour.”
         Elise didn’t know what to say to that so she said nothing.
         “You come here often?” he asked.
         Elise nodded. “Once a week at the least.”
         “Wow,” he said. “You must read a lot.”
         Elise nodded again.
         “I’m Jack,” he introduced. He finished checking out the books. Elise was ready to leave as she gathered them to her bosom, almost protectively, when Jack asked, “What’s your name?”
         “Elise,” she replied. She didn’t do well talking to strangers, she reflected as she walked out of the library.
         A few days later Elise finished all her books. Her friend had called just yesterday, gibbering excitedly about her plans for college and career and future. Elise still hadn’t decided. But there was still time.
         Checking out her new selection of books a week later, she was surprised to see Jack again. He smiled at her, she smiled tentatively back. “How are you?” he asks.
         “Good,” Elise says.
         Jack takes his time checking the books out. Elise couldn’t resist impatiently tapping her foot. Jack said leisurely with all the time of the world inflected in his voice, “You must read all the time to finish these so quickly.”
         Elise shrugged. Jack took that for a yes. “Don’t you do anything else? Watch TV? Go on the computer?”
         “Not a lot,” Elise answered.
         “Go out with friends?”
         “Sometimes,” Elise said, starting to get defensive. He made her act like some kind of pathetic loner.
         “Put mostly you read, right?”
         “Yes,” Elise confirmed, faintly irritated.
         He finished checking the books out, but he held them firmly in his hands. He wasn’t giving them to her and Elise thought it would be awkward if she tried to take it from him by force.
         “Are you in college?” he asks.
         “No,” she said, her words starting to get terse.
         “Going to college?”
         “Yes.”
         “Do you know where?”
         “No.”
         “What you will major in?”
         “I don’t know.”
         “Any idea of a career?”
         “No.”
         “Where you’re going to live?”
         Weird question. “I don’t know.”
         Jack started to smile. “Any idea at all about your future?”
         Elise’s brows drew together. Where was he getting at?
         “Drawing a blank?” Jack asked. He pointed over there awkwardly since his hand was still holding the books. Elise looked in the direction he pointed and saw an old lady with frizzled gray hair, wrinkled face, and age spots up her arms. She wore a baggy T-shirt and pants. She flipped the pages of the book eagerly as she read, and every once in a while she would say, “That’s right Tom!” or “Don’t give that to him, Kelly” or “Tom, you rascal”.
         “What is she talking about?” Elise asked.
         “She comes in here almost everyday. She’s probably read every book in this library and then some. She talks to the characters she reads about,” he explained.
         Elise asked with a touch of concern, “Does she not have friends? Or family maybe?”
         Jack shrugged. “Friends? Probably not or she wouldn’t be here. Family is possible, but she loves her book characters too much to probably keep in touch with them.” With a touch of pity he looked at the old woman. “Those book characters are her friends and family.”
         Elise felt immensely sad for the poor lonely creature. She turned back to Jack and saw he had finally released his hold on her books. She scooped them up again and hurried out the door. She wasn’t sure but she thought that Jack was looking at her the whole time as she made her quick escape. At night, she didn’t know why, but she had a dream about the old lady. Or was it a nightmare?
         The weeks rolled by. She continued to check out books at the library, continued to read daily, continued to put off her decisions about college, and continued to run into Jack. He was always there, checking her books out, saying hello and the customary how are you, but otherwise keeping it brief and not playing hostage with her books. Maybe about five weeks later did they have a lengthier conversation.
         “Know your plans for college yet?”
         “No.”
         “Hm…” he said thoughtfully as he checked out her books.
         Oh no, Elise thought with something close to despair. Jack was holding her books still. Hostage again?
         “Elise, do you get out much?”
         “Not really,” she confided. Funny, but her parents said that a few days ago. It was the same age old argument about how she didn’t do anything but read, but it always ended the same way: she kept reading.
         “Why not?” he asks.
         Elise had a mask of confusion on. “I…don’t know. There’s nothing to do.”
         Jack nodded as if finally getting the answer to his question. “I figured.”
         “What?” Elise asked.
         He eyed her thoughtfully as if she were under a microscope. “You escape into your books.”
         “What?” Elise felt like she was walking around blind in this conversation. She didn’t understand.
         “You think your life is boring. Ordinary.” Jack saw Elise’s eyes widened. Struck a chord there, he thought. “So you escape into your books to get what you crave in life.”
         “I…guess so. Everybody does,” Elise stammered somewhat.
         “You more than most. Tell me, when was your last adventure?”
         Adventure? thought Elise. “I don’t know.”
         “Your last romance?”
         “Is that your business?” Elise asked a bit tartly. She turned even more sour as she realized it had been years since her last romance.
         “And we already established that you have no plans for the future,” he doggedly went on. “Tell me, Elise…if you could sum up you life what would you say?”
         Elise stammered. “I’d say…my life’s been…”
         Jack wouldn’t let her finish but cut in, “One word: books. Your life has been full of books. Your life is books. You live vicariously through your characters. They go on adventures, you go with them. They fall in love, you do, too. They discover it, you share their triumph.” He paused for effect.  “But wouldn’t you want to feel that for real?”
         Elise barely held herself from grabbing the books he held hostage and sprinting for the exit.
         “Start living  your own life and stop hiding from it,” he said as a parting shot. He put the books in front of her. Elise snatched them up and walked hurriedly to her car.
         That night she had the dream of the old lady again. Except this time, it was her.
         Refusing to back down by what he said, Elise stubbornly kept reading. But her mind wouldn’t focus. Her thoughts kept chasing themselves around and around. Was he right? Elise looked out the window, not really seeing the outside world but rather seeing inside herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she did something daring. The last time she felt a flutter in her heart. The last time she actually traveled. The last time she made a new friend. When was the last time she went to a pool and swam? When was the last time she noticed the wind on her skin? When was the last time she had dreams and ambitions? When had she fallen into the hidden allure of stories that left you like an addict to taste the life in the pages?
         But life wasn’t in the pages. It wasn’t real.
         But she was real. And she had a life to live.
         For the first time in a long time, Elise closed the book without finishing it. She set it down carefully, slowly, on the table. She got up, drove her car, and went to the library. She saw Jack at the check-out counter.
         Ordinary. She thought he was ordinary?
         I don’t have to be ordinary.
         I can have my own adventures, my own triumphs.
         My own risks.
         “Jack,” Elise called out with a smile. Not a tentative smile. “Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

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