The Slide

Two weeks later. The Faculty Gala.

The Grand Hall was draped in gold and velvet. Chandeliers sparkled. Waiters passed champagne.

Arthur stood in the corner, wearing a tuxedo. On his arm was Miss Pringle, a librarian from the reference desk. She was perfectly appropriate. She had been talking about the Dewey Decimal System for forty minutes.

Arthur wanted to scream.

"And of course, the 600s are terribly disorganized," Miss Pringle droned.

Arthur nodded. He looked across the room. The Board of Trustees was huddled near the buffet.

"It's a shame about that Chen girl," one Trustee chuckled loudly. "Dropped out of the Master's program, I hear. Probably for the best. Her thesis was on 'The Joy of Color.' Childish."

"Garish," another agreed. "Did you see those shoes she wore? No dignity."

Arthur froze.

*Dropped out?*

He looked at the Trustees. They were old, gray, and sneering. They were everything he had tried to be.

"Excuse me," Arthur said to Miss Pringle.

He walked toward the Trustees. "She quit?"

"Submitted her resignation today," the Trustee said. "She's clearing out her locker now."

Arthur looked at the heavy oak doors of the Grand Hall.

He thought about silence. He thought about safety. He thought about Sir Pounce eating salmon.

He thought about Lily wiping foam from his lip.

*If everything is perfect, you're just a museum exhibit.*

"Dignity," Arthur said aloud.

"I beg your pardon, Penhaligon?"

"Dignity is boring," Arthur snapped. "And you are all terribly boring."

The Trustee gasped. "Arthur!"

Arthur didn't answer. He started to run.

He ran out of the Grand Hall. He ran down the marble corridor. His dress shoes had no traction.

He turned the corner into the foyer.

Lily was there. She was carrying a box of her things. She was wearing a bright yellow dress that looked like sunshine. She was walking toward the exit.

"Lily!" Arthur shouted.

He tried to stop. He couldn't.

He slid.

It was a magnificent, undignified slide. He skidded ten feet across the polished marble, arms windmilling, looking like a penguin on ice.

He came to a stop directly in front of her, on one knee.

Lily blinked down at him. "Arthur? Are you... breakdancing?"

Arthur gasped for breath. He looked up at her.

"Don't go," he wheezed.

"I'm leaving, Arthur. I don't belong here. I'm too silly."

"The Archives are a tomb without you," Arthur said, scrambling to his feet. "And so am I."

"But your reputation," Lily said, clutching her box. "The Board."

"Sod the Board," Arthur said. "I don't want to be Dean if it means being miserable. I want to be silly. I want to drink tea with balls in it. I want to look at history and feel the vibes."

Lily’s lip trembled. "You hate the word vibes."

"I love the word vibes," Arthur lied. "And... I love you."

The silence in the foyer was absolute.

"You love me?" Lily whispered.

"I have loved you since you threw a coffee at my head," Arthur confessed. "Please, Lily. Don't go. Stay. Help me mess things up."

Lily dropped her box. It clattered to the floor.

She threw her arms around his neck.

Arthur caught her. He didn't care who saw. He didn't care about the Trustees peering out of the Grand Hall behind him.

He kissed her. It was messy. It was clumsy. It was perfect.

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