Flickers on Paper

I saw it and couldn’t help myself. 

One of those little free libraries stood just slightly out of my way.

“Maybe there is something good,” curiosity seemed to pull me towards the structure that looked like a bus stop.

It was ridiculous, really, since I had so many books waiting for me at home and never seemed to have the time to read—not anywhere near as much as I would like to.

“Well it’s not truly the case is it?” I reprimanded myself, thinking of all the times I mindlessly watched Shorts instead of opening one of my long-neglected books.

 With a sense of excitement I walked into this library-bus stop. 

“Oh wow!” I exclaimed as I was greeted by nicely organized communal library, “see it is worth taking a new route every once in a while,” I thought satisfactorily to myself. 

“Oh Nicomachean Ethics, hmm, I’ve always wanted to read this, “ I took that book out of the philosophy section and opened it looking with excitement at the letters and the potential wisdom that hid in their arrangements, finally I put it in my backpack, “Oh the classics!” I exclaimed, “’The Old Man and the Sea’ yeah definitely that!” I plucked that book from one of the shelves and moved on, “Man and his Symbols, well, that looks interesting” I grabbed a book from the Psychology section.

“Hey kid why don’t you leave some books for the rest of us huh?” I heard a voice from behind and swerved to see an older man standing at the entrance to the bus stop. 

I quickly assessed that the old man was not mad—quite on the contrary, he seemed to be amused as he walked in to join me by the psychology section.

“You’re all over the place aren’t ya?” the man commented as he scanned the bookshelves himself, “would you say you’re an avid reader or are you just a collector wishing he were one?” he turned to look at me, giving me a piercing look. 

“Umm,” I suddenly felt embarrassed under his scrutinizing gaze, “I guess I’m more of a collector unfortunately.” 

“Ahh Tsundoku,” The man turned back to the shelves.

“Excuse me?” I almost laughed at the odd utterance and the abrupt change in his manner. 

“Tsundoku, is a Japanese word, it is act of letting books collect on your shelf with the hopes they will one day be read” he then looked at the classics, “ahh,” he exclaimed as he took down a book from the shelf and showed it to me. 

“Oh the Iliad!” I nodded my head in the affirmative as he looked proudly at the book. 

“Didn’t see it did you?” he seemed to tease me, “otherwise you would have taken this one as well huh?” he laughed as he reached over to my bag and made the appearance of weighing it. 

“Don’t worry,” he looked at me as he walked away, “you are optimistic about the future and are curious about the world. You will be fine,” he winked and was gone. 

 ***

The trees were mostly bare and the snow covered the ground. It was already dark at three O’clock as I walked back with my spoils. 

Oddly enough I didn’t feel depressed just then but rather optimistic. 

“There is something hopeful about illuminating the darkest time of year,” I thought as I walked back to my apartment seeing a Christmas tree through a window of one house and down the block another with a Menorah with all of its candles burning brightly. 

“It would be kinda tragic if we didn’t have the holidays during this time of year,” I admitted to myself as I imagined this time of year with everybody isolated in their houses in darkness, “but family and candlelight transform it to something… magical… something fantastic…” I struggled to capture in my mind the essence of what I had only an inkling of.

At last I arrived at my apartment building and climbed the stairs wearing a slight smile of anticipation. Taking out the keys I fumbled with them momentarily in the lock and heard a scurry of tiny feet from within. 

Opening the door I saw my little white and black cat running to greet me with a chirp of excitement and with a jingling from her bell collar. 

“Who said that cats are not affectionate?” I chucked as I kneeled down and my cat rubbed her head against my hands purring loudly. 

I looked around and my gaze came to rest on a small empty table with its two chairs.

“Oh Tinker Bell” I lamented to her, “I love you but… I would really like someone to talk to you know?” the cat got on my lap and vibrated as if trying to do all she could to compensate for her lack of words. 

Getting up I skirted the table and the phone which I purposely left behind for my walk. ‘Detox’ I called the process of being away from my phone and all of the strangers that came through its screen and instead living my own life. 

“Maybe this time I will be able to read something,” I looked into my bag and took out the books, “I will not fall into the temptation of mindless scrolling. Please Tinker Bell will you help me?” I looked over at her as she was vigorously grooming her backside with a hind foot up in the air, “well I guess you can’t really help me with that,” but this time it seemed a bit less amusing than usual to me. 

Lighting up a candle I sat at the table and took out the first book that came to hand. It was the Nicomachean Ethics and as I opened the pages in a kind of reverence I started reading aloud “’every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and pursuit, is thought to aim at some good, and for this reason the good has rightly been declared to be that which all things aim’… Uchh this is not easy…” just then the phone vibrated and its sudden reminder with its promise of an easy escape seemed to make its appeal almost irresistible. With all my willpower, however, I managed to put it on ‘do not disturb’ and not check the message—an act that had the danger of reeling me into hours of mindless scrolling.

“‘No man is free who is not master of himself,’” I whispered and looked at the worn book that accompanied me throughout my time in prison. It was and still is my most prized possession.

“But whoever has given himself over to pleasures, fears, or desires, is slave to them.” I finished the quote as I reached out to the book and ran my fingers over its pages as if to draw strength from its pages. The book as usual resurfaced the memory of those days where I had little self control.

 When exactly I started slipping I cannot recall; although in retrospect I now knew I never really had much control over myself.

On the surface it was all normal. I had went to college to get a degree where I met a woman and we started dating. Soon I had completed my degree, had a good job and was married. Everything seemed great. Except my for my character which was far from perfect.

But were there signs? A seemingly random recollection came back to me which I had never remembered before. I was driving and cut off another car who was in my blind spot. After being honked at—maybe a bit stronger than was called for—I gave him the finger, even though I was clearly in the wrong.

“Today I would put out my hand as a sign of an apology,” I thought and looked around at the empty apartment.

“Honey can you do the dishes,” another specific instance came back to mind, “it is your turn,” my wife tried to prod me gently. 

“I just got back from work,” I was sprawled on the couch flicking through Instagram reels.

“Well it was an hour ago… you know what? Why don’t we do it together?” she on the other hand had just gotten back from work.

Another time I remember well. It was on Christmas Eve, and she was preparing to go to her family. 

“Why are you not getting ready?” she asked.

“I’m not going,” I said stubbornly having simmered with this feeling for awhile. 

“What? Why?” she came out of the bathroom where she was applying some mascara or something. 

“I don’t like going to your family,” I replied dryly. I distinctly felt that her parents did not approve of me, especially her father. 

“You can still win him over you know,” she seemed to sense the reason behind my reluctance. 

“No I don’t want to go,” I said stubbornly.

“I went with you to your family on Thanksgiving remember?” she looked annoyed, “what every time we have a family gathering you are just going to stay away? They are my family, they are part of this package you chose. I go to be with your family without batting on eye and you can’t do this for me?” and as I sat there in silence she quickly finished getting ready and walked out without a word. 

Slowly the chasm seemed to grow between us culminating in our separation and her return to her parents.

But soon after she was gone obsession quickly took over. The silence of the empty apartment was driving me mad and her absence was deafening.

I tried to write her, I tried reason with her to return saying I had changed but she rightly knew it was not true. Soon my job followed suit and was left home brooding all day. 

With a shudder I recollect the day I got himself into jail.

I looked up an address of a gym next to her parents house and drove there, I knew her well enough to know she would be going there on a Sunday. I drove there and waited on a bench outside.

Sure enough some of her ways she had not changed and I saw her entering the building and sprung to action. 

“Jennifer!” I cried as she was preparing some weights, my heart aflame with passion and anger.

“Kevin what are you doing here?” she looked concerned. 

“Jen you don’t return my texts, you don’t return my calls. I had to talk to you. I need you Jen please come home and give me another chance,” and I grabbed her hand once I saw her reluctance. 

“Kevin please you look like you’ve lost your mind,” she was scared. 

“Let’s go out and talk, please,” I pleaded and started pulling her out. 

“Hey back off mister,” someone grabbed my shoulder and I turned to see a burly man towering over me. 

“Get away, it’s non of your business,” I tried to shove him away with my free arm. 

Another man then joined and grabbed my hand that was holding Jennifer and yanked it open. 

Rage coursed through my body and before I knew it I drew a small pocket knife I had in my pocket lashing out at that man and stabbing him in the shoulder. 

“Kevin!!” I heard her scream and with a flash realized to my horror what I had just done as the man backed off and moaned in pain. 

Dizzy from my action I ran out into the street, heart pounding in my chest and my vision blurry.

“What have I done? What have I done?” Is all I could remember saying as I roamed the streets for probably an hour before the cops picked me up. 

The trial was not a long affair, and in the end I took a plea bargain, if only to avoid witnessing her testifying against me. I was lucky however, for the man who was assaulted only suffered minor injuries and I received two years in prison which were reduced to only one year due to good behavior.  

A short time into his sentence I saw the book on the mess hall table and was instantly drawn to it. 

It was Discourses by Epictetus. “Of the things that are in our power, and not in our power” I read the title of the first chapter and was instantly hooked. 

Finally, the day I was set free arrived, and with only a small bag in my possession that contained only a few items—the book being one of them—I felt optimistic. Now I will take up the challenge of becoming truly free, free from all consuming passions and whims. I was hopeful that I could build up my character and become the man I longed to be. 

There were moments of weakness as there are bound to be, mindless scrolling happened of course when the silent room overwhelmed me and one time I even checked out her profile and saw she was married to the very man I had stabbed. 

I felt a slight sense of amusement, “They should thank me!” but quickly it turned into sadness for what I had and threw away, and then shame and disappointment of myself that I let my weakness prevail, “I said I will be strong!” I lamented and then quickly employed Seneca help, “What has passed must be considered as if it never existed.”

Finally I lay down the book and the memories of what I now considered to be my pervious life. Drowsiness then washed over me and I retired to my bedroom in the light of the waning candle.

***

Several weeks of struggle passed from that cold December night. 

I must have sent hundreds of resumes and emails but virtually non were answered at all, and those that were seemed to want to wrap the interview rather quickly once the subject of my recent history came up. Dates, I realized quite quickly as well, were not going to be an easy matter. 

“At least you’re honest,” the one girl I tried to go out with said once I revealed the reason for my circumstances as she tried to brave a smile. 

“You can’t blame them really can you though?” I tried to console myself and not get mad, “I have only proven than I cannot be trusted, how can they know if I’ve changed?”

I finally decided I had to get a job that I would previously never have considered. I had to make money somehow and this was the only way to build back my credibility. I soon found a job in road construction and oddly enough, I quickly learned to enjoy this work and the men who came with it, some of whom had a criminal record as well but were usually on their own journey of self-improvement. 

After the long days of work, although menial and redundant, I felt pride and satisfaction in the work we did and the feeling of optimism started to take root in my heart. With this feeling the phone lost some of its power over me and instead I seemed to be able to open those books I wished to read with more ease and soon all three of those books I took from that neighborhood library were finished. 

It was a cool Saturday morning in early March when I decided to take a stroll to the outdoor library with my heavy backpack strapped to my back. Returning the books to their place I examined the scores of books to see if anything caught my attention. 

“Ahh!” I cried in delight, “the Iliad is back!” I took it out and realized it had the same cover as the book the old man had shown me. 

“You like the classics don’t you?” a voice startled me from behind.

“I guess I do,” I blushed as a saw a young woman chucking at my embarrassment for being caught talking to myself in excitement.

“Well they’re classics for a reason don’t you think?” she joined me by the classics and scanned the books. 

“Hmm the Old Man and the Sea,” she took out the book and opened it, “can you believe I’ve never read this one?” she said as she leafed through its pages. 

“Umm, I actually just returned that,” I felt my heart racing as she looked up in surprise, “so I also have never read it until recently. So that makes two of us,” I laughed but then I sobered and became silent and sad. 

“What’s the matter,” she asked in concern as she saw my sudden change in demeanor. 

“Ummm well, I actually think you are adorable and I would normally not hesitate to ask someone like you out but I have a bit of a recent history that makes me reluctant to”. 

Now it was her turn to laugh, “you seem to be a reformed man to me, and whatever it was I think we may have something to work with… as long as you did not rape, murder or rip off some old lady from her life’s savings,” she looked at me inquisitively and without fear.

“No not quite…thank God.” Now it was my turn to chuckle as I looked at her and somehow knew I would do everything to become the man someone like her deserved.