The first time I met Raphael…the first time Raphael allowed himself to be seen by me was at a local library. I had just arrived to the city a week ago and had yet to set up internet for my apartment. I walked into the small library well after 5 pm to find every computer taken. I scanned the screens to see children chattin with strangers and playing internet games. I have time to waste since my girlfriend was still at work. I didn’t like the idea of staying in a half furnished apartment by myself. The library was the perfect place for me to learn more about the sleepy little town I had stumped upon. Seeing all the monitors covered by heads typing away at keyboards I moved to the back of the building. Row after row people sat at tables consumed by books. I was starting to curse myself for waiting so late. When I reached the back I had given up hope of a spot to rest. Sitting with his back to the wall sat a young boy. I wasn’t sure of his age...I couldn’t see his face. It was covered by an issue of gentlemen’s quarterly a simple white t shirt and black jeans. He sat by himself in that corner. A chair sat alone across from him. I looked around . Everyone else was trapped in there books and were lost in there own minds. With hesitation I walked towards the table. I watched him cross his feet under the table as the sound of my body reached his ears. He looked into me from over the magazine. His face showed no surprise. His face showed no emotion. His eyes invaded the privacy of my mind. I stood before him exposed. I self consciously crossed my arms and stopped walking. I embarrassingly looked over the walls of the library trying to avoid eye contact with his large brown eyes. I felt his eyes on me still. I cursed myself for my over active imagination. I was allowing a kid to physic me out. With my false sense of confidence I walked again to the table. I half expected a brother or mother to come from beyond the rows of books and question me.
“Is someone sitting here?” I asked. His eyes never left me. His brown eyes trapped me and I was all he ever saw. “No.” he said with a matter of fact tone.
“Well…” I said. His voice revealed his age I guessed him to be eight. “I am going to sit here with you. Save this seat for me, okay please?”
He didn’t respond he release me with his eyes and turned his focus on the magazine. Satisfied with that answer I turned and vanished among the row of the books in the front of the library. I returned to his table to find him unmoved. I placed a copy of ‘Arabian Nights’ on the table and took a seat. I attempted to ease my mind and indulge my imagination. No matter how hard I tried the pictures would not come to me. I couldn’t see Sinbad. Frustrated I placed my book on the table and looked over my company. He still sat unmoved book covering his face. I didn’t know what to make of someone so young reading an issue of GQ. Either he’s a fashion expert or he was filling his mind with half naked woman. For some reason I felt that talking to a eight year old boy would be more interesting than ancient Arab tales.
“Want to be fashion designer when you grow-up?” I asked him with the best grin I could muster.
He put the book down and as soon as his brown eyes sucked me in again it was as if his eyes never moved. They may have been peering into me through the magazine.
“People never change I never get tired of it.” He spoke at me. His words flat and direct. He commands his words with a tone of familiarity. He’s said it like he remembered it.
“What do you mean?” I asked him. I could feel myself trying to muster the same directness. He looked as if he never even heard me. As if my words fell short of his ears. He let the magazine fall from his hands and reached his left hand out. “Raphael.” He said. His eyes soften allowing me to glaze over his hand and shake it with my left. “I grinned at his rudeness of ignoring me and commented with my own name “Andre…you know most people shake with there right.” Again Raphael went deaf as my words were unable to reach his ears.
“Excuse me sir.”
Raphael’s eyes release me from there hold on me. I look up to see a Liberian standing next to me. She had a disappointed look on her face. “I’m sorry sir we don’t allow cell phone use in the library.” She spoke to me as she patted her left ear. She offered a smile in sympathy of her having to command me.
“Cell phone? No, I’m just talking to Raphael here.” I extended my hand to Raphael’s seat. ‘Sorry for talking loud.” I offered her my own smile to show my sympathies. I watched her face erase her smile. “When he comes back if you could tell him too please.” Her eyes observing the empty seat in front of me. “huh he’s..” I followed the Liberian eyes to Raphael’s empty seat. My head jolted as my mind exploded. “Ugh.” My body belted it’s confusion. “…he must of run off when he saw you…kids.” I again mustard a grin. Weaker than before. Comforted by the thought that the gentlemen in front of her was not insane she returned her smile and said “it’s okay sir I have two young boys of my own. I know that can be a little loud.”
“uh-ugh” I mumbled. The librarian turned and walked away between the rows of books. I watched her leave and as soon as she turned out my sight my head snapped to Raphael’s seat. My eyes peering into his seat. My mind struggled to rebuild its self from the earlier explosion. I rolled my eyes over the back of the chair trying to read the mystery of Raphael’s disappearance from the chair. A copy of gentlemen’s quarterly lay left on the table and proved to be a problem when my mind tried to convince me my eyes betrayed me. In response my eyes insisted that my mind imagined the little boy. As my eyes and mind twisted themselves in battle trying to understand why I had been engaged in conversation with a empty chair and a GQ magazine another voice snaps me back to the present.
“Anyone sitting here?” a teenage girl points at the table I look around “Oh…uh…I..”
She starts to frown. I turn my head looking down the row of books. I can feel her roll her. Eyes with an audible sigh.
“Uh...you can have my seat.” I quickly get up collecting my book and the GQ magazine. “I’m just checking out.” I say as I move out of her way. She watches me walk down the hall between the row of books.
No comments:
Post a Comment