Paul Lantar

Chapter 2 - Poetry and Movies

Thursday arrived too fast and Paul found himself outside a small library. The car park appeared to be half full - an odd sight given the time of evening. He looked around slowly for any sign of Veena, she had been bugging him to come and listen to poetry readings with her all week. The entrance of the building was lit by two dim lights either side that illuminated the dark blue exterior of the building; he admired the clean rendered walls and crossed over to the cement pathway. Beautiful gardens lay either side of the entrance consisting mainly of Cycads and Lily Pillies. He scowled as a woman passed by him without hearing her approach and got annoyed when she threw a cigarette into the garden bed mulch before pressing through the swinging glass doors.

            The sign on the glass doors gave the start and end time of the readings and he hoped they would be out well before the finish. 

            They do this for three hours?

            “Hey!” Veena tried to sneak up on Paul and place her hands on his shoulders, but he had already seen her reflection creeping behind him in the glass doors. 

            “Hey. So three hours?” Paul asked, trying to make his voice sound excited at the prospect of being stuck in a room full of people for so long.

            “No, I never stay that long, just do my thing and go,” Veena said, smiling. She took Paul by the arm and led the way through the glass doors.

            Paul looked around the well-lit library and for a moment felt exposed, from the view outside he expecting a dark stage lit up by candles enabling him to blend in without being seen by too many people.

            “Veena! Boyfriend?” A librarian asked Veena. She looked Paul up and down and gave Veena a sly wink as though Paul would not even notice.

            Paul felt uncomfortable and sighed as the two women launched into conversation. He watched the head librarian closely - her mouth was shooting words out rapidly and she kept wiping her glasses with a tissue. Her frame was slender and her white blouse was almost like a second skin it was so tight. Occasionally she would nod in a direction of another person and Paul knew it was gossip. He looked at Veena who by her body language was as uninterested in the conversation as he was. 

            The librarian's nametag indicated that her name was Melony. Twenty-four? Twenty-six? How old are you?

            “Paul…Paul…Paul?” Veena called.

            He quickly snapped out of his trance and took Veena’s hand to be led to a seat. The chairs were set up in rows of six and he swiftly opted for an end spot so no one else could be sitting next to him other than Veena.

            They sat together watching as each person got up and said their pieces, Paul felt slightly annoyed at the overuse of emotion some of the people let out – one girl was helped down off the small podium after bursting into tears reading a poem about her dead bird.

            It’s a fucking bird.

            Paul quickly turned his head away from the crying girl as Veena ascended the stage. Taking her cigarette packet and opening it, she took out a folded up piece of paper and cleared her throat. 

            “The flower blooms as the drought looms,

Savoring nutrients for the dry nuisance, 

Little does the drought know the flower has seen worse weather,

The flower falls but grows back stronger, brighter, and better.”