It seemed like the silence was exceptionally heavy around the library when I entered, though I wasn't sure if it had anything to do with Trent's call, or just my missing Isaac.
We'd spent almost every day together over the past month-at the library, necking in the stacks, sometimes taking Lenny's Bel Air to New York to attend poetry slams or hear really good jazz. Isaac came alive in New York where there wasn't nearly as much attention given to us. We were one couple among many that looked a little out of place, who came and went as they pleased regardless of their surroundings.
Now though, something odd and unsettling buzzed around my stomach as I moved through the silent lobby. I spotted Mr. Welis reading a paper as he leaned against the front desk, a small mug of coffee on the desk top.
"Miss O'Bryant, good evening."
"Hi, Mr. Welis." We rarely spoke, Mr. Welis and me, only a handful of times when he'd ask what I thought of Isaac's chances of getting into Lincoln. The older man wasn't a stranger. To my surprise, the older man never glared at me the way Lenny did sometimes.
"You looking for someone, Miss Riley?" He had a nice smile and beautiful eyes, nearly green, which looked nice against the dark complexion of his skin. He was lighter than Lenny, but not as light-skinned as Isaac, and handsome for an older gentleman.
The question threw me off a bit. Generally, Mr. Welis would smile a little when he spotted me and Isaac together. Mostly, though, he just ignored us altogether.
"Uh … no," I said, listening to my gut to keep Isaac's name out of our conversation. "Just going to study a little before the library closes."
He nodded, his smile a little bigger than I thought it should be but before I could give it any consideration at all, he turned back to his paper like we hadn't spoken.
I moved further into the library, expecting to hear some noise, anything to lead me to wherever Isaac was, but all was quiet. Lenny mopped the second-floor tiles but he didn't hum or whistle like he normally did while he worked. And Isaac wasn't anywhere to be found-not on the first-floor kitchenette or by the elevators where he usually met me when I arrived.
Something felt wrong, off somehow. For the first time since I'd began hiding out at the Lincoln University library, it didn't feel like home. As I moved back toward the sound of Lenny's mop moving, I realized the reason the place didn't feel like home was because Isaac wasn't there.
"Lenny?"
He didn't stop his work, instead focusing even more intently on the movement of the thick mop head smearing water and foam across the marble tiles. His back was facing me and I noticed for the first time that there was a long scar that ran down his neck and disappeared into the starched collar of his blue button up. There was no telling how he'd gotten it. Isaac had told me the most awful stories about his childhood in Georgia-how he and Lenny had both struggled growing up in the south.
"Lenny?" I tried again, this time loud enough that my voice bounced on that marble and back against the floor to ceiling windows around us. He turned, frowning a little before he forced a nod in my direction. "Where's Isaac?"
"Couldn't say." He lifted his shoulders, shrugging like he didn't believe I had any right knowing what had happened to Isaac. "Best you go on out of here before I have to close up."
He was dismissing me. I'd spent the past month falling in love with his best friend, laughing and joking with both of them and Lenny was dismissing me like he didn't know me?
"Hang on just a minute." He stepped back when I faced him, glaring, my growing fear and anger at being disregarded getting the better of me. "Don't do that, Lenny. Don't you talk to me like I'm nothing. He was supposed to meet me here." He moved and I followed, step for step, until he gave up trying to get back to work. "Tell me what happened."
Lenny was good at guarding himself. Isaac said it came from years of getting out of trouble anytime Lenny disobeyed his mother or acted out at school and didn't want to get lashing for it. But there was something hiding behind his bored, practiced expression that made me even more worried, because he was doing such a good job of it.
"Lenny … please, tell me. What happened to Isaac?"
He pulled a folded handkerchief from his back pocket, rubbing it along the back of his neck, though he didn't sweat and I suspected he only did that out of habit, as some odd way to help him think. His face was pinched tight and the muscles around jaw flexed and moved as he continued to work that small fabric along his neck.