Chapter 29 — Second Floor Library Girl

Six months passed with short meetings, long updates and many times Bao asked when he could eat cake in his new room.

The rear area is reinforced. The elevator was installed later than planned because the foundation had to be inspected. The second floor reading room is closed, but the first floor is open overtime. The team no longer does everything together every day, but the delivery schedule keeps them from disappearing.

Phuc goes to practice on the weekend, comes back with drawings of the chassis and a habit of checking the brakes for every car at the gate. Ngoc learned how to cook three dishes without using sugar in the wrong place. Bao sells cakes more regularly, Lam prepares his university application, Minh Chau sets up a student library council.

Ngoc and Phuc did not have much time to talk privately, but they sent each other small sentences: "The room is temporarily crowded today." “Today I fixed a difficult frame.” "Did you eat?" "Already." "Really?" “There are photos.”

One afternoon, Phuc sent a photo of a newly installed bicycle. Ngoc asked who would use it. He said a 10th grader was exchanged using community funds.

“You gave it?”

“No. Group contribution.”

Ngoc smiled. She understood that he had learned not to be the only one who saved everything.

There were problems on the first floor: some books were misplaced, the calendar overlapped, and someone borrowed the newspaper and forgot to read it. The library board held a meeting without the old group presiding. Ngoc sat in the back, only answering when asked.

A 10th grader asked if people who pay late should be punished by banning borrowing. Ngoc said we should look at the reasons and history, but the decision rests with the council. Phuc was not present; You're in a practice program.

Minh Chau reminds us of the saying "report, don't hide". The Council chose to mention it privately, without making the name public. Ngoc finds that rules can be lived when new people understand why they exist.

On the reopening day of the second floor, the whole school was invited but there was no big ceremony. The elevator doors open on the second floor, the new connection has a railing, and the windows still retain the old frames. The bookshelf is placed lower, with additional lighting and a reading room history board.

On the board there is a line: "From a place where many people used to sit, now reopened with more people." No logos.

Phuc was late because a friend's bike had its chain loose. He ran up the stairs, his shirt stained with oil. Ngoc was checking the guest list, looking at him.

“Did you just fix your car?”

"YES."

“You can wash your hands before touching the book.”

Phuc raised his hands, which were nearly clean. “I washed it at the faucet.”

“I'll still check.”

“You have truly become a librarian.”

Ngoc gave him a tissue. “Are you someone who returns books on time?”

Phuc gave her the card to borrow. “Three months is not too late.”

“Do you have identification?”

“Here is the book.”

Ngoc checked, then stamped. "Good."

“Are you just saying good?”

“I'll save my words today.”

Bao standing next to him said that the two of them were taking revenge on each other with a mark of wood. Lam said that is a healthier way than commenting online.

Students enter, many go up by elevator. A neighborhood aunt and uncle came and recognized the weekend reading area. The little girl who was looking for a repair book last time now holds a new technical book. Ngoc saw her sitting near the window, her feet touching the ground.

“Sister, is the second floor different?” I asked.

"Have."

“But is it still a library?”

"Still."

I nodded and opened the book.

The board announced a new process: each semester evaluating usage, accessibility, book condition, and anonymous feedback. An Nhien supports the first phase, but the fund operates from multiple sources. Father Ngoc stood at the back of the room, not speaking.

Ngoc came. “Dad, no say something?”

“Dad is invited to attend.”

“Dad, you can talk if you want.”

“Dad wants to hear what you have to say.”

Ngoc looked at him. “You're not the only one talking anymore.”

Father nodded. “That's the best I can do.”

Phuc came and asked Ngoc's father if he wanted to see the elevator. His father accompanied him, asking about the load and maintenance schedule. Phuc answered clearly. Ngoc stood far away, seeing that two people could talk without turning each other into debtors.

At the end of the day, the old group sat around the table. Bao brought the cake into the hallway, Lam read the new book, Minh Chau checked the key. Phuc placed a leaf-shaped clip on the front page.

“Opening the door,” he said.

Ngoc asked: "Do you work part-time?"

"Are not. This time I bought it at the market.”

"Why?"

“I don't want you to think everything has to be fixed by me.”

Ngoc looked at him, then asked: "Can I keep it?"

Phuc nodded. “That's why I gave it.”

Ngoc clipped the reopening date card into the book. They did not take pictures together. A 10th grader asked if he could take a photo of the corner of the table. Ngoc asked everyone, then agreed.

The photo was posted with a caption written by the council: “Library reopens after six months of renovation, operated by many people.” No one calls it a family project.

In the evening, Ngoc texted Phuc: "You're late today."

Phuc: “I reported.”

"Correct. There is progress.”

“I'm trying.”

“I know.”

Phuc: “Do you want to eat cake?”

Ngoc: “Are you a treat?”

Phuc: “Discount.”

Ngoc: “I agree.”

The second floor is brightly lit. Not because it stayed the same, but because many people decided to come back and continue giving it a reason to exist.

The day after reopening, Ngoc and Phuc walked to the cake counter. Grandma Phuc asked Ngoc if she wanted to eat as usual. Ngoc said yes, but took the vegetables herself. Phuc watched her do it, but did not correct it.

“Didn't you check?”

“I'm respecting the chef.”

“Grandma is the chef.”

“I respect the woman.”

Ngoc wraps cakes for the next customer. A 10th grader recognized her and asked if the second floor had an elevator. Ngoc said yes, but still had to keep the path clean. I asked if I could join the council. Ngoc pointed to the registered address.

Phuc heard and said she had become the official introducer. Ngoc told him the same, because everyone who came to the counter asked for directions to the library.

“I can sell maps,” Phuc said.

“You cannot sell travel rights.”

“I sell paper.”

“Free paper at the library.”

The two argued until their grandmother placed two glasses of water in front of them. She said people who like each other often find reasons to talk even when there's nothing to fix.

Ngoc blushed. Phuc dropped the tongs. Grandma laughed and turned away.

In the evening, Ngoc asked Phuc if he wanted to name their relationship. You said you don't need it. Ngoc agreed, as long as both of them told the truth if they felt uncomfortable.

Phuc asked if he could hold hands. Ngoc nodded. They walked slowly through the street with shop lights, no one needed to witness it, but they also didn't have to hide it.

Two months passed with the sound of drilling, the smell of paint and short meetings. The second floor reopened on a Monday morning, not perfect but brighter. A low bookshelf is placed near the entrance, the reading table faces the window, and there is a small corner for those who just want to sit still. The memory board is still on the first floor, moved up after everyone voted.

Ngoc no longer holds the key alone. The management team has four sets, each receipt is timed. Phuc is in charge of safety inspection, Ms. Hanh is in charge of documents, Minh Chau is in charge of the calendar, and Ngoc compiles feedback and publishes monthly reports. Bao asked for the additional task of taking care of the tree next to the window because he said the tree was also a part of the reading room.

On opening day, a 10th grader found the local history book he had read during the survey. You put it on the table, then call your friend. Ms. Hanh stood behind the counter, smiling without speaking. Ngoc watched the seats gradually fill up, heard the sound of flipping papers mixed with the sound of cars on the street.

Father came with mother, not bringing company. He went around, asked Ms. Hanh about the duty schedule and asked Phuc if the electrical outlet was safe. Phuc answered with specific numbers. Father nodded, then bought an old book from the exchange shelf. Ngoc teased him for finally knowing how to borrow books instead of just buying them.

Grandma made a video call that night. She asked if the leaf-shaped clip was still in Ngoc's hair. Ngoc said one was bent, but a new one was replaced. She laughed and said people cannot keep things intact, they can only keep the way they take care of them after they are scratched.

After the summary session, Ngoc and Phuc walked towards the back gate. They did not immediately talk about the future. Ngoc asked him if he wanted to continue studying in the city. Phuc said yes, but didn't know which industry. She said if you need it, there is still a table on the second floor to sit and learn. Reply if you need, the bread counter still has a place next to the car.

They stopped under the linden tree. Phuc asked if he could pick her up after duty next week. Ngoc said it is possible, but not needed every day. The two agreed that liking each other does not mean turning the other person's schedule into an obligation. Having finished speaking, they both found that sentence a bit serious so they burst out laughing.

The second floor is brightly lit. Ngoc turned around to look once, then continued. This time she wasn't afraid that going too far would cause her to lose the room. She knows a place is saved by letting many people know the way back.

Phuc asked what if they studied in two different places in the future. Ngoc said she would discuss it again when it happened, not making a promise in advance and then turning the promise into a cage. Phuc nodded and said he liked the way she talked even though sometimes it sounded like she was in a group meeting.

Ngoc asked him if he saw that she was still a lady. Phuc said she still likes beautiful paper, still doesn't know how to bargain for vegetables and can still call a car to come in a few minutes. But she has learned to answer for herself when others cannot handle it for her. After listening, Ngoc laughed and said that was the longest comment he had ever given her.

They continued under the trees. Ngoc doesn't need a big confession to know that tomorrow can start with a text message asking for an on-call schedule. She also doesn't need to hide it behind words about the project. A relationship can grow outside of work, as long as both partners don't use work as an excuse to avoid telling the truth.