Dahlia opened the passenger door. "Do you need anything?"

"Just put this in the back. That's all you need to do."

"Great. Okay. Got it."

Don't fuck this up...don't fuck this up...

Roy was still anxious every time he had to transfer out of his wheelchair. That same what if feeling if he would've done something stupid, or fall, or if one of his legs decided it would be a glorious time to start spasming.

"Hey, thanks."

Dahlia didn't answer and started the engine.

He felt dependent. Ridiculous, he thought. He couldn't put the wheelchair in the back himself unless he was sitting in the back seat anyway. Every time a cab driver asked if he needed assistance he always declined. This time he instigated. And although it was beyond his control, and meant honestly nothing, Roy couldn't help but feel degraded.

Roy had forgotten about the library. An old brick building built during the civil war. He'd forgotten about coming there as a kid with Whit and Dade, reading, or at least pretending to read, while his dad bought the newspaper. He could've gotten it delivered but instead made the weekly trip to purchase it for a dime at the library.

Roy suddenly felt anxious again. He'd also forgotten how many steps, stone and steep, had gone up to the front doors. Dahlia opened the passenger door again before Roy could protest, and put his wheelchair next to him.

"You don't need anything?"

"If you mean do I need help, no, Dahlia. I'm fine."

"Let's go then. Through the back," she smiled.

Roy never realized the steep incline towards the back of the building and didn't realize how hard it was to push himself up. Better than having Dahlia carry him up the stairs, he reminded himself, and found himself rolling his eyes. Dahlia unlocked the back door and switched on the gaslight.

"Huh. I never ever knew that existed."

"Emergencies. Just in case."

The smell of old books and tobacco filled the room. Shelves upon shelves with stories that seemed to never be touched graced the room. There were three in all. Roy followed Dahlia sheepishly towards the front.

"Dahlia? Oh, hello."

"Amanda. You're here today?"

A young woman appeared from behind the front desk. She was chubby, much like that nurse Roy had always hated, the one that laid her grubby paws all over his freshly operated on laceration and manhandled him like a piece of her own property. She wore thick glasses with a pointy frame and a flapper haircut that had since started to grow and held no shape. Her dress was a sickly cream and made her look like an actual orange.

"Kevin said we needed more help organizing. I didn't want you to have to do everything."

"Oh that's okay. I'm not alone today anyway."

Dahlia moved to her left and Roy realized he wasn't in hiding anymore.

"Oh! Who's this?" Amanda asked cheerfully. "Who's your friend?"

"My name's Roy." He offered a handshake.

"Is this your friend?" Amanda asked again.

"Roy lived here. Yeah."

"I'm-I'm back," he shrugged.

"That's so good. Is he visiting?"

"Um..." Roy began. He wanted to tear his hair out. It was so obvious that she was completely ignoring him and talking to Dahlia like he wasn't there. She could see him, right? Of course she could. She patted him on the head instead of shaking his hand. Roy was infuriated.

"No, he's here for awhile," Dahlia said.

"That's so good. I'm so glad," smiled the cherubic librarian.

"Actually, you said Kevin needed more help, I was thinking he could hire Roy, maybe."

"Wait, Dahlia-" started Roy. He hadn't agreed to taking any job earlier when Dahlia suggested it. He wasn't even sure he actually alluded to wanting to, if at all.

"Wouldn't that be so nice!" Amanda commented. "I bet he'd just do great here."

"Dahlia, I never said-"

"Just until he finds better work. Temporarily. Roy's a stunt double."

Amanda's eyes widened. "A stunt double?"

"You know," Roy spoke up. "The moving pictures. Jumping off buildings. Getting shot and the like."

"Oh! Just like Buster Keaton! You do that? That's so nice."

"Just like Buster Keaton," Roy sighed.

"Kevin MacMillan is my godfather, Roy. I'm sure he'd love to have you working here. In fact, I'm so sure I could take it from here. I'm so sure you could start working right today."

"Dahlia, I never-"

Dahlia smiled, resting her hand on Roy's shoulder.

"That's so good, right Roy?"

"You have a job! Congratulations!" Amanda exclaimed. "Excuse me for one moment."

Roy felt his face turn as red as a tomato.

"Dahlia, what the hell was that." He grasped onto her yellow blouse.

"She only means well," Dahlia whispered.

"I never said I wanted to work here," Roy said.

"Roy, come on. It'll be fun."

"No, it won't." He could hear Amanda from a distance on the phone:

"Hi Kevin! Guess what! I took the liberty of hiring more help today. Yes, I just hired someone! No, he's not like the last one. Yes. His name's Roy. I didn't catch his last name. I don't know. Possibly permanent, perhaps temporary. No, he's lived here before. He's a stuntman! For the pictures! Yes, I know. Yes, I know. It's so nice Dahlia brought him here. He's one of the crippled."

Roy glared at Dahlia and she shrugged.

"No, but he's very nice," Amanda continued. "It's so nice she's his friend. It's so nice he's here. Yes! We can employ people like him, correct? I thought it!"

People like him. As if Amanda did her good deed for the day. Roy wasn't sure what would be worse. Staying there all day or going back home. He bit his tongue.

The sound of clunky high heels echoed in the room.

"I talked to Kevin, he's totally okay with Roy working here."

I. Am. A. Person.

Dahlia grinned. "In that case, Roy, we need organizing, and the entire day until Dade is done plowing; so follow me."

"Oh, and Roy, I'll need to get your details later," Amanda said. "Just quickly, what's your surname?"

Roy was silent. "Walker."

Amanda grinned. "I got you. Wow, you're so cute."

Roy's face turned bright red and he bitterly followed Dahlia to the back room.