There were several small desks covered in clutter and books in the farthest room. A telephone hung on the wall by the window that looked out into the back where they had first come in. Roy picked up an old leather book on the edge of the farthest desk. Dante's Inferno. Roy chuckled, skimming through the pages.

"You reading this?" Roy questioned Dahlia. "Can't imagine Amanda getting her hands on it."

"Yeah," Dahlia smiled.

"You were always intelligent. Some heavy stuff."

Dahlia opened up a notebook and took pen to paper. She grinned.

"Dahlia, do you hate your job?"

She glanced up surprised.

"Answer me," Roy chuckled.

She said nothing and continued writing.

"What are we doing? What do you need me doing?"

"Oh. Just, we're making a list of all the books that are far past their due date. Can you copy these?"

Roy wheeled behind the desk next to Dahlia. She handed him a thick binder, full of dates and addresses.

"Can you...handle this?" Dahlia raised an eyebrow.

Roy couldn't tell if her question was filled with sarcasm or not and shook his head with a response.

"Yeah..."

"Great," Dahlia smiled.

"This is it? This is all we're doing today."

"Yeah, today. Unless Amanda wants you or I up front. But I don't know if she'll trust you yet."

"Interesting."

Silence.

"I'm going home later."

"Staying for dinner?" Dahlia asked.

"I don't know."

"William is coming over. You should meet."

"I hope he's good to you," Roy commented. He studied the ring on her finger. He was certain he could've afforded a nicer one, at some point...

"Extremely. Dade approves, that's what matters."

Roy nodded, continuing writing. "You, uh, you talk to Whit much?"

Dahlia coughed. "He keeps to himself. Stays on the farm most days. I saw your parents at the church picnic, by the way. You do remember the picnic, right?"

"I remember," Roy said. He cracked his knuckles. "You speak to them?"

"I did say hello to Loretta."

"Is she okay?"

"She seemed good to me, Roy."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Silence.

Dahlia suddenly stopped writing. "My heart is aching to see you smile again, Roy."

"Really?" Roy questioned, turning to her. "Because I don't think you've looked at me once."

"I don't look at nobody," Dahlia sighed.

"That's not true. You used to look at me all the time."

"That was before."

"And not now?" Roy suddenly grasped Dahlia's hand, the one with the ring. Her eyes downcast. She bit her lipstick stained lip and shifted. She moved like MacKenzie.

"Dahlia!" Amanda called, opening the door. Roy quickly placed his hands on his lap. Amanda snorted. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Mr. Walker."

"Call me Roy," he said.

"Dahlia, can you man the front desk? I should take Roy's information now for Kevin."

"Right. Absolutely." Dahlia pushed her chair in and hurried out.

Amanda sat across from him, a clipboard in hand. Roy felt as though he was being interrogated for a crime. None were committed.

"Now I'll be quick, so you can get back to working."

"Okay."

"Do you own a telephone? A number?"

"46-6."

"Your address?"

"Do you, uh, mean my current address or-"

"Of course, silly."

He felt silly he couldn't even recall his parents home.

"I'm from Los Angeles, it's 1515 Gerard Way..."

"Oh, you don't live here now? Dahlia said you're back..."

"Technically. I don't know. I don't- remember the address."

"That's okay. You don't have to remember."

"Uh..."

"It's fine. We'll just put this down. 1514 Gerard Way? Los Angeles?"

"1515."

"You really are in the pictures," Amanda grinned. "LA. How have you managed to find work like that?"

"Oh, it's, uh, it's....yeah. I've had work."

"And you're back here! Why on earth?"

Roy sighed. He needed a cigarette.

"Are you filming here? I thought Dahlia said this was temporary until you found more work? Are you having two jobs? So remarkable."

"I'm not filming," Roy snapped. Amanda seemed taken back at his response.

She pursed her lips. "Credible references?" Amanda raised an eyebrow. Roy could sense just like that she didn't like him anymore. Her words were monotone. Idiotic.

"No."

"That's fine. You just went to the city? From here? That's it?"

"That's right...I've finished copying this binder down. If you need any assistance with anything."

Amanda tucked her pen behind her ear.

"Great," she said unenthusiastically. "That's great. There's plenty for you to do." She motioned Roy to the following room.  "You know most of the supplies are down in the basement. That's...off limits to you, you know."

If that's what she convinced herself to call it.

"There's plenty of other things, like I said." She rolled a cart in front of him piled high with books. "All of these, these need to be put back. You know the Dewey Decimal System, correct?"

"By heart," Roy assured her, grabbing the first book he saw.

"This is the nonfiction section. Fiction is over in the back, and in the back room. The front is everything else, reference, dictionary, the papers."

"Right," Roy nodded. "I'm sure I can find my way around."

"Let me just see you, Mr. Walker. I just need to make sure you're doing it right."

"Roy, Amanda."

"Right. Roy. Put that book where it belongs."

He traced his fingers along the side of the book's spine, realizing to his surprise it belonged on the shelf in front of him.

"Great! You did it. You got it."

"Yeah."

"I'm sure you can have these all put away by lunch."

"I'm sure."

"I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

Thought it was off limits, Roy thought to himself.  To 'people like him', maybe.

To Roy's disappointment, half of the books belonged on the top shelves. He couldn't bring himself to ask for help, even though the opportunity arose every time he wheeled into the front room with a dictionary, and saw Dahlia typing away on a type writer. Several people had checked out books that day, gave him a glance, and to Roy's surprise a young woman had approached him and asked the location of the cookbooks. He couldn't remember since the last time he was there. He made an estimate in the right direction. The woman rolled her eyes when he'd guessed wrong.

He'd first organized the books on the cart into each category to make it easier in each room. Dickens, Bronte, the occasional reference. Verses by Keats. Another copy of Inferno.

Roy opened a random page.

The poets leave hell and again beheld the stars...

"You must be Roy Walker."

Roy nearly gasped and dropped the book at the sound of a sudden voice, a change from the near silent library.

"That's me," he answered quickly.

The man was of medium height and of stocky build, with thinning, curly grey hair and coke bottle glasses. His cologne was overpowering and he glanced at his watch.

"Amanda decided to hire you this morning, I hear. We don't usually that."

"Oh. I-I'm sorry..."

"Kevin MacMillan."

"Yeah, I was told about you," Roy stuck out his hand. No one ever shook it back. "I'm Roy. Like I said, well like you said."

"What are you working on over here? Stocking books?"

"Um, yeah, I-"

"The ladies seem to dread doing it."

"Oh yeah?"

"How long has it taken?"

"I'm sorry, I'm done, these, I couldn't reach-"

"Right," Kevin nodded. "That's fine. Just get done what you can get done."

He quickly exited to the front room and Roy  awkwardly followed him.

"Hey, I'm...done," Roy reminded him.

"You still have another pile of books."

"No, those are on the top shelves. I can't reach them."

Dahlia looked up. "I got it Kevin. Roy, don't worry about it." She got up hurriedly.

"Dahlia, you can't just leave while someone is being checked out..." Kevin began. He rolled his eyes and took Dahlia's place at the front desk, the man waiting out a dime on the table. "This it? Just the paper?"

Roy found himself starting to have another anxiety attack. The expression on his face could've proved it. He grasped the book in his lap and inhaled deeply, and prayed to any god that would listen that his brother hadn't seen him yet.