Green Belt - Chapter 1

Town of Cordelia Public Notice
March 28
Secretary of Parks and Recreation Marcy McGuiness

         Though much of the damage from last weekend’s unprecedented flooding has been repaired, there are many public facilities and services that are unavailable for the foreseeable future.  Parks and Rec. staff and our waste management contractor are working hard restore service, and appreciate the outpouring of patience and support we’ve seen from the community.          
         On a bright node, Cordelia High School’s football field and athletic stadium are on track to be fully operational in time for the Fighting Cougar’s fall season.
         The Cordelia East branch library’s collection has been all but ruined, and we’re urgently seeking donations to fill the shelves when we reopen. 
The wetland boardwalk portion of the Green Belt adjacent to the library is closed until further notice.  Downed trees and damaged walkways have left the area unsafe for visitors.
Cont. “Green” page B14
         


Chapter 1: Peace and Quiet

           “At least in the library I can hear myself think,” huffed Gina Farber as she whipped the front door shut behind her.  Even as she stalked down the front walkway and past the mailbox she could still hear Tyson, her two month old brother.  For the past seven and a half weeks she’d woken to, come home to, and attempted to sleep through uninterrupted wailing.  The audio barrage had chipped away at the thin veneer of civility between her and her parents, which lead to only more yelling.
         Gina cinched the straps on her backpack tight as she started moving at a light jog.  Similar confrontations over the last few weeks had taught her that if she didn’t put herself out of earshot quickly the verbal carnage from the house risked spilling out into the streets.  “I love my mom, I love my dad,” she chanted to herself as she marched rhythmically down the sidewalk, and that much was true.
         After she’d passed the two block mark, and was confident that she wasn’t being perused, Gina pulled out her headphones, flipping on the noise canceling circuit and sliding them onto her ears, all in a smooth, practiced motion.  “Oh, sweet relief,” whispered Gina as she paused for a moment to untangle the audio cords.  The headphones were a splurge for Gina when she she’d put three hundred dollars down last month, but the illusion of solitude they provided was proving worth every penny.  She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, standing still for a moment and relishing the sound of her own breathing and heartbeat.  Then, slowly, in sync to her breathing, Gina began to walk.
         She’d begun experimenting with this exercise a year ago, inspired by her visually impaired AP English teacher.  Mr. Higgins had set a state record in the forty yard dash without ever seeing where he was running to.  Gina knew where she was walking, and knew she could get there without crossing into the street.  She hadn’t successfully completed the four block course to the library yet without opening her eyes, or tripping on a curb, or hitting a low-lying tree limb, but she was confident that she could if she just relaxed and concentrated.  Today was her day.
...
A wash of loose pages, pulped newspapers, and several stray periodicals littered the steps of the Cordelia East branch library.  Newly constructed 8 years before, the library was one of the most cherished buildings in town and one of Gina’s favorite haunts.  Was.
“Crap,” Gina mumbled, nudging a sodden copy of “A Man in Full” with her sneaker.  The thick novel was heavy as a cinder block, saturated to levels only dreamed of in paper towel ads.  Gina plopped down next to it, pulling her headphones down to rest around her neck.  She stretched her arms above her head and laid back, looking up at the sky.  Today’s sky was so pale blue as to be almost colorless.
Last weekend the sky was green and Gina had been lying in a bay widow reading.  The thunderstorm proved very useful for reading, the driving rain and frequent explosions of lightning drowning out Tyson’s wailing.  Gina was getting a jump on her summer reading for next year, and was two hundred pages into David Copperfield.  Actually, Gina was starting to become accustomed to the heavy bass beats of the thunder.  It was a pleasant contrast to Tyson’s vibrato soprano warbling.
She was in the middle of reading a particularly wordy and detailed passage when she heard her mother yelling from downstairs.  Seconds later, the room would explode in what could be described as an awesome shotgun blast of wood, sofa and Charles Dickens.  Halfway down the stairs, Gina saw a seven foot tree limb bigger around then her torso rocket through the window and ricochet off of two walls and the ceiling before burying itself through her novel, the sofa, and two feet of sheet rock.
Years from now, Gina suspected, her mother would attribute her impulse to call her daughter as divine intervention or motherly intuition and not the fact that she needed help unloading the dishwasher.  While thankful not to be impaled on what amounted to a giant toothpick, she wondered if it was worth hearing of her mother’s onetime psychic ability every time the two disagreed.  Gina yawned and rubbed her eyes, scrunching her face.
“You keep doing that and your face will stick that way,” a familiar voice said from the base of the steps.  Daniel Higgins smirked as his cane tapped absently at the sodden paperbacks at his feet.  Finding a particularly squishy “Boxcar Children” book, he pressed down, making an unhappy face at the gurgling sound.
“I suppose this means I’m not going to be able to check out the new Tom Clancy?”
Gina laughed, propping her elbows on her knees, “Actually, I think I saw that composting in flowerbed by the street.”
Mr. Higgins chuckled and tapped some soil from his walking shoes with his cane.  “I’ll wait for the audiobook, I suppose.  So, I couldn’t help but notice that it’s a gorgeous day out and you’re going to the library.  Don’t tell me that all of my lessons about seizing the day and sucking the marrow out of live have fallen on deaf ears.”
         Gina snorted.  Mr. Higgins was known for his wry sense of humor in class, and if students weren’t alert and attentive, they risked finding themselves as the butt of a stinging limerick.  “Wow, deaf jokes, really?  Besides, there’s more culture and excitement and adventure to be found here, then anywhere else in town,” she said as she kicked a well worn copy of The Jungle Book.
         Mr. Higgins shrugged and batted at the book with his cane, first pushing it right, then left, dribbling it as a hockey puck.  “Kiddo, you know no one loves books more than me, but I’ll be the first to tell you that I’ve seen lives wasted and lost in their pages.  Reading about culture and excitement and adventure is no substitute for living it.  The day you wake up and find yourself living with a dozen cats is the day I know I’ve failed as a teacher.”  He punctuated his point by swinging his cane like a golf club, sending the small book sailing over a row of shrubs.
         “Don’t let me down,” he said as he turned and began tapping his way down the sidewalk.
         Gina pushed herself to her feet and pulled her backpack up tight.  One thing was for sure, and it was that she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her day sitting on the steps with drown bestsellers, so she began walking.  At first she made a game, hopping from one squishy book to the next as if they were stepping stones.  Each footfall was accompanied by a satisfying squish as pulped pages ejected out from between the covers.  She recited each title as her pace quickened, her improvised game of hopscotch becoming frantic, as path left the pavement and led across the library’s side yard.
         Three novels, two encyclopedias, and a magazine later she found herself approaching the tree line and a barrier of bright yellow police tape.  The large “x” of ribbon crossed the paved pathway into the woods and announced “CAUTION – DO NOT CROSS”.  Gina stepped off her book trail and walked right up to the flimsy blockade. 
         “Seize the day, huh,” thought Gina, as she rested a hand on the plastic tape.  In her sixteen years, she’d done nothing more sinister than ride her bike on a neighbor’s yard, and the was surprised to find that, as her hand clutched a “CAUTION”, she didn’t feel the least tingle of hesitation or foreboding in her heart.
         “Seized,” she said as she ducked between the two ribbons and disappeared into the woods.