I’m not a joiner – I don’t want to be in any club and I don’t want to be the kind of person who joins things; I don’t go to church, I’m not in the union, I don’t do adult education.
So what’s the attraction? Why am I stepping over the threshold of this club – this society – it’s not like I want or need to make new friends – though there is no club that could be identified as “Friends of” – I have plenty.
But there is something about this club that spikes my interest: it feels like it could be a trap, and that entices me.
I still walk past the door twice, working myself up to go in.
I suppose it’s an identity thing. I’m used to working alone, keeping work separate from family, doing strong silent. This feels like a risk, more dangerous than the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done, and believe me, I’ve done a few. I’m not a quiet librarian all the time: I’ve moved mountains and rescued children from burning buildings, yes indeed, and I don’t expect thanks.
So what am I doing here?
When I got the invitation I laughed ’til tears poured into my gin, and I threw the thick creamy square of card in the trash. A club for loners: a club for misfits, a club for refuseniks, for cats who walk by themselves. Who could take that seriously?
Then I got to wondering how they got my address, pulled that creamy card back out of the trash, read it more carefully.
The strap line was “the only place you can truly take off your mask”.
This side street should be deserted this time of night, there are no bars, no restaurants; this is a downtown office area. There’s a 24/7 on the corner opposite the address I have, but that doesn’t account for the foot traffic this street is getting. I saunter the wrong side of the street, heading up towards the freeway and I spot a couple of old guys going into the smart old building sandwiched between two eighties office buildings, and I keep walking, eyeing them as I go by.
I think I recognise one of them, might’ve seen him working, maybe. Then this little cutie in a high-neck black number skips up the steps.
I stand on the corner and count to 53 before I start the walk back to the soft glow of the light over the doorway.
The place is popular… a real weirdo is going in as I pass and I get a glimpse inside, it is so tempting – but I walk on by one more time, up to the corner where the offices disintegrate into warehouses, and I can just hear the slap of the river on the embankment beyond.
Listening to that is kind of soothing, so I stand there watching the pools of yellow from the streetlights and listening to the water and the scuttling of rats, and breathing the diesel and salt and damp and … the potential of the river.
I hitch myself up, straighten my collar, and walk purposefully to the bottom of the steps. So now I’m at their door, hand raised to the buzzer, about to join The Very Secret Society of Super Heroes.
I must be out of my mind.
Mr Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore, our August Book Club pick
We pick the most exciting new titles out there for the Litro Book Club, and you’ll get them sent to you before they hit the shops. You’ll get access to live author Q&As, and the chance to see your reviews published on the site. It’s a great way of meeting like-minded book-lovers too. Join the Club
Cherry Potts is the published author of two collections of short stories, Mosaic of Air (Arachne Press) and Tales Told Before Cockcrow (Onlywomen Press - out of print currently). She has had lots of stories published on line, in anthologies and in magazines, and has edited 4 anthologies of short stories for Arachne Press, which she owns.
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these cookies, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may have an effect on your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.