The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen

She goes back to her desk, leaving me to try not to hyperventilate while I think about what I should do. I should figure out a way to get her back. Right? But how would I even start to think about doing that? What even brought her here in the first place? Should I keep looking for the cameo myself? Where in the hell is it? HOW SHOULD I KNOW?

Listen, I reason with myself. She’s a . . . You know what she is. Right? So there’s a chance that, if she’s gone now, that’s the end of it. There’s no helping her. You have to just chalk this up to one of those experiences you never tell anyone about, ever, except when you’re an old guy in the home and no one will believe you anyway.

But what if she comes back? I don’t want to let her down. She seems to come and go as she pleases. But no, that’s not right. She didn’t want to go. She called out to me. So she comes and goes, and she can’t necessarily control it.

Where is she?

I stand up at the library table, as though I’m going to leap into action. But I have no idea what action to leap into.

I sit back down again.

Maybe I should wait. When she showed up in my room, she said, “I came right back.” Right? What if she comes looking for me here? I should make myself easy for her to find, if she can. Right? Yeah. In that case, I should just sit here and wait.

But it’s not like she’d ever been to my room before. Maybe she can find me wherever I am. Maybe it’s me, not where I am in space, or time, or . . . whatever. In that case I should keep trying to figure out what happened to her, to help her. And trust she’ll just catch up with me whenever. She’ll come back for me. Right?

She has to.

She can’t just leave me hanging like this. This can’t be it.

Gradually I become aware that I’m rocking back and forth in my seat, staring into space at nothing. I must look like a crazy person.

A hand claps me on the back at the very second a young male voice says, “Hey, man,” and I’m so startled I actually shriek.

“Dude!” Tyler exclaims, laughing. “Jumpy much?”

The librarian looks at me with an I’m-about-to-call-security face.

“Sorry!” I call to her. “Sorry,” I say to Tyler, between trying to catch my breath. “Jesus. You scared the crap out of me.”

“I guess! Sorry about that. What’s up?” Tyler drapes himself over the back of a library chair and gives me a lopsided smile. He looks happy. He’s even wearing less eyeliner. Oh no, wait. It’s just blue today, instead of black. Daytime eyeliner. My mistake.

“Oh, man,” I say, leaning my head in my hands. “I’ve had the weirdest of all possible days.”

Should I tell him the truth? He’ll think I’ve lost my mind. But, so what if he does? If he thinks I’m crazy, then who cares? I’m going back to Madison in a week anyway. I never have to see Tyler again if I don’t want to. I can vanish. Forever.

“You look like crap,” Tyler says helpfully while pulling the box over for a look. “What’s all this stuff?”

“Oh,” I say. “Nothing. It’s for a project.”

“You need a release, if you want to shoot in the library,” he points out. “I know. I checked.”

“Not that kind of project,” I mutter.

Tyler’s already moved on, picking up my bag and pulling my camera out for a look. “So what’s the problem with your camera?” he says, taking the lens cap off and powering it up. He plants the viewfinder in his eye and looks at the library through a digital lens. “You said the focus was messed up?”

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. “I was shooting some more footage for Most, and I couldn’t get the focus to hold. I don’t know why.”

More acoustical tile divots. Too many to count.

“More footage? Of what?” he asks me with interest.

“You remember that girl? The one you needed a release for? In Shuttered Eyes,” I say.

“Sure,” he says, swinging the camera onto me and grinning.

“So, I got together with her.”

“What?” Tyler’s grin spreads, and he drops the camera from his face. “You mean, got together got together?”

“God! No.” I wave him off.

“Pfffft.” Tyler laughs, bringing the camera back up. “Eastlin’s so right about you.”

“Listen,” I say. “This is serious.”