Dahlia & Other Boundaries We Try Not To Cross

I told him my name was Dahlia. He let it roll off his tongue. Dahlia, he said, that's beautiful. I thought, that's why I chose it, but I held my tongue.

We were in the back of the library, somewhere between the psychology section and science, in the long row of fiction. Nobody was around.

I kissed his collarbone and he kissed my mouth, and we held each other.

His name was Eddie. He had just started college that fall, and he'd been watching me for weeks. He checked out books on chemistry, poetry by Robert Frost, short stories by Edgar Allan Poe, sonnets by Shakespeare.

And each time he waited and watched and timed it just right to make sure I was the one who checked them out. He asked who my favorite writer was and had I enjoyed my weekend? No one he'd ever heard of and no, I had broken up with my boyfriend. He liked that but was sympathetic and hid his smile well.

I'd never had a boyfriend in the first place.

He had big chocolate eyes and a beautiful smile. There was a teddy-bear cuteness about him, except he was thin and taller than any teddy bear I'd ever seen.

He asked for my help finding a book in the fiction section one Friday afternoon, all the way at the far end of the library.

I knew he wasn't looking for a book.

He asked if I got back together with my boyfriend and I said no, no, he was gone for good and I couldn't have been happier about it.

When he kissed me it was electric and passionate and shaky, and his fingers were nervous against my skin.

Eddie was majoring in forensic science and he liked old movies. Film noir, he said, like “The Big Sleep,” and had I seen it?

I had.

A gangly kid with dark glasses and Converse sneakers was in the psychology section and we stopped making out.

Can I call you? he asked but I said no, no, I was really busy right now with work and everything. It was a lie. I was never busy.

He came back around the library and left notes for Dahlia.

They asked why students kept asking for people who didn't work in the building. I didn't know, I said, but smiled.

One day Eddie came back looking for Dahlia and found me entering information in the computer.

I haven't seen you around lately, I said, how are you?

He was going to graduate soon and he wanted to know if I wanted to go to the movies.

I said yes but nothing good was playing.

We went to the old movie theater on main street and watched black and whites until late.

He walked me home to my apartment, though it was only a few blocks away. He kissed me under the street lamp but I didn't say, do you want to come inside?

You have the most beautiful eyes, he said. They were blue, perhaps the exact opposite of his.

Well, bye, Dahlia, he said after a long time.

My name isn't Dahlia, I said.

Oh? He asked.

It's Kate.

He nodded. That's still pretty, he said, but I didn't think so. He didn't ask me why I'd lied. Perhaps, if he had, I would have told him. And maybe I would have even told him why I told him my real name, now. But he didn't, so I was quiet.

I unlocked the door.

It was the first time I'd told a guy my real name in a while.

Good-bye, I said, and went inside.

Out in the hall before he left he whispered, good-bye Kate, but I didn't think he'd meant for me to hear it.