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"Don't worry, Miss Johanna, she'll definitely know what you're looking for."
A line of other patrons wait patiently as Frida leads her by the sleeve; they each clutch small piles of books to check in or out, more than likely a few of them overdue. At the desk at end of the queue, the librarian stands over an open novel, stamp in hand, calmly explaining something to one of the customers ahead.
Johanna hasn't visited the Trolberg library in years. Now, standing in line with her daughter (and her daughter's friends), the magnificence of it all comes flooding back. Three floors make their way up to the slightly domed ceiling, bridged by elaborate, old staircases, well-kept despite the grooves in each step from the thousands of feet that have climbed them. On each floor, at least twenty ceiling-height bookcases, arranged in aisles; on each bookcase, eleven shelves, filled with every kind of novel, journal, guide, storybook, publication, map, encyclopedia, scripture, dissertation, magazine, comic, or textbook you can think of. The gold-leaf lettering along the spines catches the sunlight.
The tall, ornate wooden doors behind them are propped open during business hours, letting in a little daylight from the grand shaded stoa out the front - but this is ultimately overpowered by the skylights, pouring pure sunbeams into the main atrium of the building. It turns the abundant but invisible dust floating about the place into tiny, glowing pollen, and Johanna is transported back to schooldays spent studying here. The librarian was an older woman with abundance in her knowledge of the archives as well as in a selection of cardigans. The assistant was a small, pretty, black-haired girl around her age, that slunk around in the shadows and on high ladders, catlike and silent. There's always been lavender in the air. Her nose is also all too familiar with the Cathedral-like scent of dust and incense, rising up from the cool stone floor. She's sure she knows the layout like the back of her hand, although the sections might have switched around since she last visited.
The reason she's returned today is for the same matter of books. Last night, she had been turning the flat upside-down searching for her copy of Design as Art by Bruno Munari, to no avail. She didn't really need it, nor was it especially sentimental - but hadn't noticed it being left behind in the wreckage once they moved, and she liked to skim through her design books when she was feeling particularly stuck on a commission. Hilda had suggested, ('if it's that big of a deal,') that they visit the library the following day on the off-chance they'd carry it, just to borrow. It wasn't unlikely, given the size of the inventory on the hundreds of topics and authors they kept archived there. Johanna had spent maybe twenty minutes searching in the Arts sections, while Hilda had quickly sniffed out her friends around the corner, studying something with books far too large and ancient to be maths, but was apparently maths anyway. After no success searching by herself, the kids insisted she find and consult the librarian, talking rather mystically of her. They seemed surprised she hadn't appeared already.
The woman at the desk isn't someone she recognises, but still, her attention is captured quite immediately. She's sure it's on account of the bright purple dyed tips of her hair, jaw-length and growing black roots; there's something a little Joan of Arc about her. Her expression is stoic, and she's rather slight, although her demeanour is more foreboding than shy.
In any case, Johanna is relieved to have tracked her down with Hilda and her friends' help, though she does wonder if she'd have been better off just waiting at the desk.
As they progress in the queue, Johanna notices the glances that the librarian keeps giving her; her face is unassuming, but the eye contact is like daggers through Johanna's soul. She turns to her daughter.
"Hilda, you three said she's friendly, right?"
"Yeah, she's really nice. Why?"
She turns back to the desk ahead.
"No reason."
The tension rises as they make their way closer every thirty seconds, and Johanna's palms are beginning to sweat. She isn't even sure why. Maybe she's been too lenient with Hilda, letting her hang around with terrifying librarians.
She catches her attention again with striking grey eyes, and doesn't smile. There is no reason for a librarian to be this spooky. She finishes serving the couple ahead of them, and there is suddenly an empty gap between Johanna and the desk. The Librarian is holding eye contact once more. Johanna's automation is to step forward, but unfortunately not to actually say anything, and the staring contest accidentally continues. Hilda pops up and leans against the desk.
"Hello, Kaisa!"
The Librarian, now named, suddenly bears a small smile that had been very absent up until now.
"Hilda! Hello, guys," she chirps, in a velvety Scandinavian accent.
The kids are equally pleased to see her, and they wave back. Her attention turns back to Johanna, who is smiling politely, because all of her other functions have left her.
"You must be Hilda's mother, then? She's a lovely girl,"
"Yes! Yes, she is," Johanna agrees, cogs turning again. She glances over her own shoulder to see no one, unsure why the question would have been directed at anyone else. "It's nice to meet you, miss..?"
"Please, call me Kaisa."
"Johanna," she returns, pleasantly surprised with the exchange.
"Sorry, this is quite a niche request, but I was wondering if you had.." she trails off as her eyes land on the book on top of one of the piles at the counter - Design as Art by Bruno Munari.
"..This."
She points at it, baffled.
"This is the exact book I'm looking for, actually. What are the chances?"
Kaisa only shrugs, looking amused. She hands over the book.
"What are the chances?" she repeats.
There is another little symphony of giggles behind her, and she's too confused not to chuckle in disbelief as well.
"In that case, do you also have..." she pauses to think, intrigued, "...anything good on Hockney?"
Kaisa drifts off in thought for a moment, then comes back.
"Of course we do," she says, checking for a lack of queue behind them.
"Follow me."
As she drifts around the counter to lead them toward the stairs, Johanna catches the scent of lavender. Frida hurries to catch up.
"Kaisa, that last... topic we went over, I'm not getting the hang of it. Whereabouts is the book we were using?"
Kaisa slows down and takes out a notepad and pen from under that cloak. Johanna watches as she dashes her 7's, and curls a K. She writes something down (presumably a location in the library), and tears the paper off, handing it to Frida with a smile and a wink.
"I doubt it's been borrowed, but we have two copies anyways."
Frida beams. "Thank you!"
As she heads in a different direction, David and Hilda automatically follow behind her, like a little line of ducklings. Johanna hears Hilda whisper, "Secret adventure!"
Now alone with Kaisa, she feels a little more awkward - but as they ascend the stairs, the silence is thankfully broken.
"Hilda has told me lots about you."
"All good things, I hope," Johanna laughs, and Kaisa does too, soft and gentle.
"Of course. Although, she wasn't pleased that you didn't let her keep that sick hedgehog."
Johanna feels fuzzy with endearment, for her daughter and for this mysterious friend of hers (the Librarian, not the hedgehog). It's a relief to know that the other adults now suddenly present in the girl's life seem to genuinely care for her.
"That's our Hilda. If it moves, she wants to be roommates. She was happy to leave it with the vet, at least."
As they reach the top of the stairs to turn right, Kaisa turns to give her an amused smile, and Johanna's heart truly flutters.
"She's also mentioned that you're a graphic designer. Which makes sense."
"It's true."
"And that you're very nice. Which seems also to be true."
Johanna trips on the compliment.
"Well! I mean - thank you. She's, um, I've heard the same about you."
Another ghost of a smile, so Johanna continues.
"I think - I think she and her friends really look up to you. You should hear it. You'd think you can make magic, or something,"
Kaisa shrugs again as they arrive in Art and Culture, where Johanna had started the search.
"Hockney," she repeats to herself.
From under her cape, her arm appears, and reaches for the sliding ladder to her right - which, honest to God, seems to move by itself into her hand. It's almost subtle enough to not notice, but Johanna is paying close attention, magic or not.
She climbs the ladder with practised and familiar grace, and traces the tenth shelf up with a fingertip.
"Well, I know we have a study on his first six decades. Up here, though, is A History of Pictures by him and Martin Gayford."
Johanna is once again impressed with her knowledge of the library's catalogue.
"I've actually been meaning to read that one."
Kaisa slips it out from the shelf and returns to the floor, and to her regular height - which is good few inches shorter than Johanna. She hands over the book, and Johanna handles it carefully, inspecting it like a relic.
"I know graphic design sounds a little technical and boring, but I studied fine art during my foundation, so I really do appreciate it just as much."
"I haven't read quite enough to know. You can check it out for six weeks until you need to renew it. I haven't... seen you before, so I'm assuming you don't have a library card? We can sort that out for you as well."
As Kaisa explains, Johanna takes the opportunity to study her face again. There is some artistry to how everyone's face is composed, in proportion, features complementing, complete. Kaisa's face continues to be sharp and rigid, even alongside displays of warmth and courtesy. Along the point of her nose, there are sparse freckles, and they dot unevenly and charmingly around the rest of her face. Her restrained expression is assisted by the bangs that stop short right as they cover her eyebrows, disguising any tiny movements if they were ever present, and Johanna notices a tuft of hair curling out of place.
She's making eye contact again, and something is digging deep into her memory. Kaisa's eyes are perfectly grey, in a slightly unnatural manner, as if they could be almost lilac to match her hair - Johanna gets the odd feeling that, in the dark, they would reflect like cats' eyes.
"I'm sorry if this is strange, but I think I recognise you."
Ever-stoic Kaisa flashes a microexpression that is just too micro to identify.
"I remember you too."
It really was her.
"What? You just said you've never seen me before."
"Well, I wasn't too sure. You then is different to you now."
"Different how? How on earth do you remember me from, what, over twenty years ago?" she chuckles, unbelieving.
Kaisa gives her an intense up-and-down that makes Johanna very self conscious, tugging at her hair nervously. Once her gaze has dragged all the way from her eyes to her shoes and back up, she gives a simple answer.
"Grown up."
Johanna can't dispute this.
"And, I have a good memory. You were in here all the time."
It's also true, during the exam periods - Johanna recalls one sweet, awkward moment between them when Kaisa helped her out with her Swedish. That day, she must have been looking particularly distressed with one of her practise exam papers, and Kaisa, reshelving nearby, took pity and corrected her conjugation. The interaction was short and discreet, the only time she ever heard a word out of her - and she recalls the same silky, hushful tone that Johanna is enjoying listening to today. Hindsight is a wonderful thing; she's a little ashamed to admit, if only to herself, that the inexplicable nerves she used to feel talking to some girls was really an easily diagnosed case of having a crush. This topic would not be brought up in conversation today.
"Thank you for helping me with my Swedish. You got me to scrape that pass."
Kaisa, up until now unbothered and collected, suddenly appears bashful. She glances at the floor.
"Ingen fara. Don't worry about it. I'm sure you could have done it without me."
She won't mention that she was graded a 4, passing by a single mark. Languages did not come naturally to Johanna; she's improved since then, at least.
"Have you been working here all this time, then?"
"Yes. I find a lot of value in it, the Library. It's basically my whole life," she admits, smiling sheepishly but twice as genuinely.
She sounds a little embarrassed by it, but Johanna admires her devotion. While her heart has always been in illustration, her life has definitely gone in all different directions outside of Trolberg - sometimes not favourably.
"I went to uni afterwards. I lived in the wilderness for a while, but came back here, clearly - I think Hilda still prefers it out there, but I don't mind Trolberg so much."
"I'm glad you're happy here," Kaisa remarks, earnestly. Johanna won't bring up the yearning to be back in nature that has been tugging on her sleeve since the moment she left; nor the loneliness amplified by passing by so many strangers on the daily now.
"Likewise."
They smile at each other for a moment, and Kaisa points at the pair of books in Johanna's arms.
"Come with me. I'll help you with those."
She thinks it's silly to let the considerably smaller librarian carry these not-so-heavy books for her, but she doesn't have much choice as they are whisked away (and herself with them) back down the stairs to the front desk.
By the time they make it, Frida and her ducklings have made their way back with the accused book, looking once again very heavy and old for a tween to be studying. Kaisa offers a thumbs-up of approval as she passes, while Hilda and David dispute something that involves rock-paper-scissors.
As her name is being tapped into the card printer, Johanna considers the library assistant from previous visits. Seeing her now, it's obvious - she can't believe she didn't recognise the girl she used to steal glances of at any rare opportunity. Old habits die hard, and right now she is taking in every detail of the woman she grew up to be.
When Kaisa slides the library card as well as the stamped books across the counter, she does it without looking down, holding her gaze for a little longer than necessary.
"Enjoy."
"I will, thank you. Hej då," Johanna chirps with a wave, as a little effort to prove she hasn't forgotten everything from secondary school. To her relief, Kaisa giggles delightedly, and replies with dramatic faux earnesty.
"På återseende."
Johanna acts like she remembers that one. She then has to practically drag herself away from the desk, following Hilda - who has already said goodbye to her friends and is bouncing out the front entrance with all the triumph of a completed quest.
She feels Kaisa's eyes on the back of her head as she leaves, and looks over her shoulder one last time. Their gazes inevitably meet, and Jo - against all her better judgement - winks. For the longest second, it's the worst decision she has ever made in her entire life, because Kaisa now looks like a scared cat, as if those purple strands of hair would puff up in fright. It doesn't last long, though; then, she is blushing and grinning, looking far more flustered than the stoic librarian she met this morning could ever appear.
For the first time in a while, adrenaline is coursing in Johanna's veins - for a reason other than danger, stress, or Hilda. Feeling much like a teenager, she leaves the line of sight of anyone inside the library, and chases after her daughter into the sunny city square, laughing to herself like she might have done twenty years ago.