A Friend in an Unexpected Place

Slurp! Mrs. Wattlemeier sipped her lukewarm coffee and made a face. There wasn’t any sugar in the break room of the old library. Mrs. Wattlemeier had been working at the Harriet Tubman Library ever since her hair had begun to turn gray, which was around twenty-five years ago. Cynthia Wattlemeier and her husband Jim, who had died eight years ago, had always wanted to have a family, but with Jim constantly away from home, having children wouldn’t have been the best option. Now Cynthia really wished she had someone close to talk to. She had no living relatives whatsoever. Even the neighbors disregarded her, and Cynthia was left alone to wallow in the silence of her only friends, her two ancient cats and the many books she kept. Cynthia sighed and trudged to the back room to retrieve her wool coat.

Kelly slammed the door and skipped down the driveway to grab the newspaper. Old Mrs. Wattlemeier next door was hobbling up the driveway. Kelly made a face. Mrs. Wattlemeier was old, plump, and smelled strongly of cats. Mrs. Wattlemeier wasn’t very friendly, and Kelly was pretty sure Mrs. Wattlemeier hated her after Kelly accidentally trampled a few of her flowers last summer while retrieving a runaway basketball. Well, strongly disliked her, anyway. Kelly flew inside and plunked down at the kitchen table. A tape of Christmas carols was humming along softly in the background. “Kelly,” said her mother in a I-have-a-favor-to-ask-you voice, “I want you to go visit Mrs. Wattlemeier tomorrow after school, and I’ve baked some cookies for you to take. The poor dear doesn’t have any family left, and it’d be nice to spread some holiday cheer.

“But, Mom,” Kelly protested, “she’s just an unfriendly old librarian. She doesn’t need any more cookies, and I’m sure she already has lots of friends that come and visit her. Her Bingo pals probably come visit a lot. She doesn’t need anyone else to come over.”

And besides, she hates me, Kelly added bitterly to herself.

“Kelly, you’re going,” said her mother sharply. “I’m sure she’d love to have a young person to talk to. Besides, you both love books, so I’m sure you’ll find something to talk about.

Kelly rolled her eyes, sincerely doubting she and old Wattlemeier would hit it off very well from the very beginning, not to mention the prospect of discussion between her and the old lady.

The following afternoon, Kelly scuffed up to Mrs. Wattlemeier’s door, plate of cookies in hand, and gave the doorbell a hard push. Mrs. Wattlemeier cracked open the door and peered out. “What do you want?” she asked in a gruff, gravelly voice.

“I’m, uh, here with some Christmas cookies for you,” said Kelly timidly.

The old lady’s face softened and her eyes began to twinkle.“Cookies for me?” No one has baked me a batch of cookies in years! Come in!” she cried cheerfully.

Kelly stepped in. Mrs. Wattlemeier went off in search of hot chocolate, so Kelly sat down quietly on the couch. She picked up a battered copy of Little Women that was resting on the coffee table. Kelly had loved that book when she had read it in English class last year. Just then, Mrs. Wattlemeier bustled in and Kelly dropped the book quickly. Mrs. Wattlemeier sent her an understanding look. “Sorry, I just love Little Women,” Kelly piped up.

“Me, too,” beamed Mrs. Wattlemeier. “Have you ever read Catcher in the Rye?”

“It’s one of my favorites!” Kelly laughed.

“Mine, too. More cookies, dear?” asked Mrs. Wattlemeier.

“Yes, please,” replied Kelly. “Oh, and, Mrs. Wattlemeier?  I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry I smashed your flowers last summer.”

“No problem, dear, they needed to be thinned out anyway. You saved me some trouble,” said Mrs. Wattlemeier as they laughed together. “Now, tell me how school is going? Are you in the seventh grade now?”

“Eighth grade,” Kelly replied with a smile, and began telling Mrs. Wattlemeier about her best friends, Gina and Elizabeth, which stated Mrs. Wattlemeier off on a long story about her two childhood friends and how they almost burnt down the house one day while attempting to bake a cake. Kelly nibbled on a cookie and listened with interest as Mrs. Wattlemeier told stories of her growing up.

Somewhere between a cookie and a swig of hot chocolate, Kelly decided that it didn’t matter that Mrs. Wattlemeier was old, plump, and smelled of cats. Kelly had looked in an unexpected place, but had found a friend all the same. Maybe the old librarian wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe all Mrs. Wattlemeier need more than anything else was a friend.

Lydia Selzle, Millard North High School 9th grade