Serving Your Husband

Serving Your Husband

    Abby glanced at the cracked screen on her iPhone, trying to get Google Maps to work. She looked up, her pale ash eyes skipping over the unfamiliarity of the city, buildings decorated with rusty slate tile roofs and blackened gargoyles. Cooper would chuckle, whispering what a silly girl she was, roaming a strange town that they just relocated to. “You couldn’t find your way out of Target, if I didn’t help,” he would add. She had to locate the library and get a book about improving her marriage. She worried that Cooper was becoming distant since they moved, and she couldn’t have a failed relationship like so many of her friends. She wished her and Cooper would go back home and leave this dreadful city.

    A stylishly dressed woman at the corner scrolled through her phone. Abby slipped up beside her. The woman’s hazel eyes looked up. Abby’s gaze dropped and she felt self-conscious. The woman probably didn’t speak her language.

    “May I help you?” the woman’s voice lilted in perfect English with just a hint of an accent.

    Abby inhaled. “I…um… I am looking for the library.” She pointed to the site on her phone. “But my service is poor here.”

    “Ahh yes, you are quite far away from there.” The woman’s eyebrow arched. “What kind of book are you looking for? There is a smaller library not far from here, but the selection is limited.”

    “Well, um.” Abby felt the heat warm her cheeks. She didn’t want to tell the woman, but she really wanted a self-help book. “I need a book on how to serve my husband.” Abby paused. “This is my first marriage, and things are not going well.”

    A trace of a smile creased the stranger’s face. “Hmmm, I do believe the library close by can help.” She waved her manicured hand. “Go straight down this street for two blocks. There will a small gold sign at the entrance of a narrow alley on the right side. Walk to the end and you will see the door to the library. It is tucked away as it has been there for centuries, and the city grew around it.”

    “Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I will head there now.”

    The woman adjusted her Coach handbag. “Wonderful.” She flowed away from Abby.

    Abby’s legs pumped as she headed down the street. She needed to get back home and start dinner. Cooper liked coming home to a hot meal. She spotted the gleaming sign with letters etched in it, “Library,” and walked down the alley. A dark wooden door with carvings of the spines of aged tomes loomed above her. She twisted the brass handle and slipped in.

    A narrow room with florescent lighting ended at a mahogany desk, manned by a young, blond woman, white buds plugged into her ears. A china teapot wrapped with painted vines squatted on a heating pad. The librarian smiled as Abby approached, putting down her cup holding amber liquid. Lining the walls behind her were multiple books molded in subdued colors with silver etching. Abby paused. The books looked dated, like they couldn’t help her.

    “I am looking for a book on how to serve my husband.” She waited for the girl to laugh at, at Abby’s inability to manage her marriage, and thinking her old fashioned, but the woman’s brow just furrowed.

    “I believe I have just the trick.” The woman’s nails clacked on the keyboard. She stood and turned to the wall. Abby was surprised to see the bookshelf slide to the right.

    “Here we go.” The librarian handed Abby a novel, its bold Arial type announcing, “How to Serve Your Husband in the 21st Century. For the Modern Woman.” “We just got it in.”

    “Oh, this looks exactly what I need.” Abby clutched the book to her chest and fumbled for her driver’s license. “I just moved here so I don’t have a new license yet. I don’t have a library card either.”

    “No worries. Ahh you are American. I love the Grand Canyon.” She entered the information in the computer. “It is beautiful, yes?”

    “I have never been there. But I would love to one day.” When Abby got her license back, she hurried out the door. She needed to get home before Cooper and make dinner.

    Abby navigated the small, white kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, pulling a pot out. The library book lay on the counter next to her. She filled the cookware with water and rested it on the black stove top. Her phone pinged with a text.

    “Sorry, I have to work late. Don’t wait up.”

    Abby sighed and turned the flame off. She grabbed the book and plopped onto the beige leather sofa. I can at least get some tips. She opened the volume, her eyes skimming the text.

    Her hands started to tremble as she read, then she stopped and flicked to another point in the book. She gasped. Then she turned to the Table of Contents. “How to quietly kill your problem partner.” “Effective hacks to avoid police scrutiny.” “How to dispose of the body.” And the last three chapters were recipes how to cook your spouse, as a main dish, as a side entrée, and as a dessert.

    Abby’s stomach lurched. What kind a garbage was this? And the librarian. She thought back to her youthful expression. Was this a joke? Was she laughing at Abby right now, thinking she was a fool? Tears welled into Abby’s eyes. She hated this country, she hated this new apartment, she wanted to go back to America. Panic mixed with frustration and anger clouded her mind. That stupid girl was also mocking Cooper.

    “She won’t get away with this!” Abby shook the book into the air and strode out of the apartment, crashing the door behind her.

    Abby wandered the city for an hour before finding the gold sign and the alley way. She stood at the entrance; her fortitude deflated. She should just go home. Then she thought of her marriage and Cooper, his rolling eyes and his head shaking for her giving up the fight. She inhaled and entered the library, brandishing the book.

    The librarian glanced up and grinned. “You are a quick reader. Do you need another?”

    Abby slapped the book on the desk. “How could you? Is this a joke? How could you give me this?” Abby tried to prevent tears from welling in her eyes. “What kind a library is this? This is an awful book about killing and eating people.”

    The woman’s eyes grew wide. “As I said, we just got it in. It must have been ordered by mistake. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding.” She swiveled on her chair and grab a teacup from under the desk. “Let me get you some tea, we can talk, and find you more suitable reading material.” The librarian poured two cups, handing one to Abby’s shaking hands then took a sip from hers.

    Abby sobbed and slurped the tea; her bravado gone. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe she was overreacting. She could see Cooper shaking his head. “I was just so horrified.” The tea spread its warm tendrils into her stomach. Abby’s head drooped.

    The librarian’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find out about this place? You are not part of our clientele.”

    “I….” Abby’s mind grew fuzzy. Thoughts floated through her mind but did not connect. “Who is your clientele?” she whispered from her dry, cottony mouth.

    The librarian’s face hovered a few inches from Abby’s. “This is a library for murderers and serial killers.”

    Oh….no, Abby thought. “Are you going to kill me?”

    The woman laughed. "You are not worth it, you boring little fool." Abby collapsed to the floor.

    Abby awoke, the grimy concrete pressing into her cheek. She fumbled to a sitting position, her head lolling. Her foot kicked two liquor bottles. Two figures looming above darkened her view.

     “Don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” she whispered, willing her leaden arms to move, trying to form a coherent thought.

    “Take it easy, ma’am. No one is killing you.” Abby eyes focused on the navy-blue police uniforms. One of the officers rolled her eyes. Abby’s nose wrinkled as she smelled old booze. She touched her t-shirt, which was saturated with liquid.

    “There is a serial killer library at the end of this alley.”

    The officers’ eyes skipped over the brick wall at the end of the alley. They looked at each other and the one shook her head. “Listen, I saw you are an American tourist.” One of the officers handed her license back. “We will let you go this time, but you need to watch your drinking and head back to your hotel.”

    “No, wait. You must believe me. Maybe it is the next alley over,” Abby rambled. She realized how foolish her words sounded.

    “Sure. Take care ma’am.” The officers strode out of the alley.

    Maybe she was delusional. Cooper would scoff and say, Silly girl. She stood up and stumbled from the corridor.