March 1980
It was 1980, I know because I had a three-month-old baby.
I had spent an hour giving her and her sisters baths.
Sat down in my chair, exhausted at a quarter to nine.
As my eyes began to close, I heard a voice say “take the library book back.”
I looked at the clock. The book was due today, but the library would be closed.
Tried to ignore the voice.
It kept saying it – over and over and over.
I asked my husband to take the book back. He said “no”.
Although exhausted, the voice would not leave me alone.
I took the library book back. It looked like there was a riot in the parking lot.
I drove around the other way and put the book into the slot.
The second I got back into my car I was surrounded by the rioters.
They were all screaming and yelling.
I realized they were all young women, about fifteen-years-old.
They were yelling for me to help them. I rolled my window down.
They were from a small town, and had followed a cute boy to the library.
They were not supposed to leave Merle Hay Mall but they had.
Their chaperones would be looking for them. Most of them were crying.
I hit the door locks and let them in, and took them back to the mall.
They would have never gotten in with my husband. It had to be me.
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