The Late Fee

A notice came in the mail today. My parents are the first to read it. I watch as my father collects the mail and shuffles it somberly in his hands. Once he arrives at the overdue library book reminder his eyes seem to lose what little hazel remains. Maybe it’s solely in my imagination but it seems like every time he reads the notice it evaporates in his mind. He has this blank stare as if the letter is transparent. My mother notices his expression and softly takes it from his hands. She walks to the file cabinet and pulls open one of the oaken drawers. She places it neatly in a stack of dozens of similarly titled overdue book notices and walks back to my father.  

I feel like overdue notices used to have some style – or at least some personalization. I recall when I was younger the notices might begin with a concession: 

 “We know you may be busy but it is this library’s policy..” 

“We’re sorry to bother you but you seem to have a book from...” 

That kind of thing. Nostalgia is a funny thing when it can have you fondly remembering fines. Now all you get is an itemized list.  

“Riverside Public Library 

Notice: Overdue materials 

Dear (full legal name), 

Below is a list of items that are overdue: 

The Fault in Our Stars, Green John, 2012” 

Please pay now.  

Now the file cabinet confronts me. It’s been nearly a year of notices like this and they’ve begun to pile up. I slide open the shelf, quietly retrieve the most recent letter, and sneak upstairs to my bedroom. 

The bedroom is unclean. Clothes lay scattered across the floor, intertwined with video game paraphernalia and sports equipment. Dishes stained with frozen food remnants decorate the perimeter of the room like pseudo-sentient Christmas lights. I navigate the room, avoiding any pitfalls and arrive at my desk. I clear away some leftover notebooks and open the drawer. In a plastic bag beneath layers of school supplies is John Green’s sixth solo-authored novel, “The Fault in Our Stars.”   

On the inside of the front cover is a tab with a card inside. A list of all those who had previously borrowed the book (dating back to its release in 2012) are written upon the card. Anita Ahmadi was the first person to check the book out in 2012, followed by a string of others throughout the year. The book’s popularity seems to have died out around 2016, however, as only two names follow in the remaining five years. The penultimate name Sarah Abercrombie is adorned with a stylish 2018 beside her name and a red “returned” stamp followed by Angie Norris. The date reads October 2020 but it is the only name unaccompanied by a stamp. 

This ends today. The library closes in one hour and I can get there in forty minutes if I run. I grab my black and grey plaid backpack, place the book firmly inside the first zipper, and holster my phone. I grab my white runners from the closet, sneak out through the garage and open the door leading out the side. It is a torrential downpour. It doesn’t matter I start running.  

The rain thuds heavily on my skin as I see a flash of light ahead in the sky. As I run through the open country road, I am able to clearly see the lightning stretch to the earth and branch throughout the sky. A loud crack sounds immediately after and I can see an electrical wire swing loose ahead of me. It falls to the center of the near-empty street and flashes a bright light before it dies down. I keep running.  

The lightning flashes in the sky again. I keep running but I count the seconds in my head before I hear the thunder again. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mi-. The thunder crashes loudly. It’s getting farther away. 

I look down and I see that my sneakers have become brown from the dirty gravel roads. I stop briefly to check my phone. 5% battery. The rain is too heavy for me to open up the phone, at any rate. Through the rain covered screen I can see that it has been about twenty minutes since I left and I can make out two blurry text messages from my parents. They’re wondering where I am. Of course I can’t tell them. 

It’s my fault any ways. I knew that the constant reminders upset them but I was selfish. I kept the book and just hoped they would stop. I just wanted one piece of memorabilia.  

I see in the distance that the town is slowly emerging from the horizon. I should be able to make it in time. I shou- 

Another loud CRASH. A flash of light appears in front of my face and I stumble to the ground. My elbows crash into the ground and my body slides across the gravel road. I look down and I can see the mud has been tinted crimson. I check my arms and legs and dust as many pebbles as I can out from the craters within my skin. I keep running. 

I think to myself that I was nearly struck by lightning. I could have died. I try my hardest to feel something but nothing emerges. I guess when you develop such an apathy towards life, the prospect of death seems equally as uninteresting.  

But I know that they would care. It’s the only reason I haven’t done it yet. The only reason that I haven’t killed myself is because I know what it would do to my parents.  

I keep running. 

Every time they get those letters with her name on it I see them die a little inside and it kills whatever little is left inside me.  

I keep running. 

I can see the library now. I run up to the glass doors and I catch a glimpse of myself. I’m soaked from the rain and bleeding from my arms and legs. I walk into the main lobby and I can see the curly-haired librarian looking over at me. I remove the book from my bag and bring it to her.  

“Are you okay Jeremy?” she asks 

“I brought this book back. I guess it’s overdue” 

“Oh okay just let me scan it real quick.”  

She grabs her scanner and presses it to the barcode on the rear cover of the book. 

“Oh,” she exclaims, “um. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know it was your sister’s. I was really sorry to hear what happened to her. My condolences.” 

“Uh thanks.” I say. No matter how many times I hear those words I’m still not quite sure how to respond to them.  

“Listen, I’ll make sure the late fees are erased and I’ll check the system for any other overdue books Angie may have had and stop the reminders. I know how much she loved reading. Again Jeremy, I know it’s overdue but I’m really sorry for your loss.”