La librairie des livres interdits

Marc Levy

Description

They give you just enough to keep you comfortable and quiet . . . if you're willing to put up with all the burdensome regulations and intrusions into your private life.

And most people do. But is it worth it?

At long last, William Oudeis didn't think so. But then it cost him everything.

Or maybe he gained the only thing really worth having . . .

"SlumberJoy, a global matress-manufacturing company, had its largest US plant in Doulosville, Oklahoma, where William Oudeis lived. And William worked there, had for the past thirty years. He was a forklift operator. Out of a hopeless sense of irony, his co-workers called him 'Billy the Kid.'"

The problem, though, was that, over time, he began to grow into the nickname. So it all came to a head one day . . . because it had to . . . .

Excerpt:
A year later, almost to the day, Wanda caught him smoking in the garden-tool shed. William whipped around when he heard the door open and blew a stream of blue-gray smoke straight at her. Wanda stood there staring at him, hands on hips and eyes boring into him like pitiless ice picks. Then she threw her hands in the air, turned on her heel, and left. William chuckled to himself.

Three hours later – after the flower beds were weeded and mulched and the yard mowed and trimmed – William went into the house. He saw Wanda sitting on the couch, legs crossed, top leg bouncing relentlessly, staring out the window, and pointedly not looking at him. In a moment, she heaved herself up and turned on him.

"William, you know you're jeopardizing everything we've got here, everything we've worked so hard for. Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"You know they'll test you for nicotine in your blood, and they have those random home checks, too. What if they came here and detected cigarette smoke with one those sniffer thingies? You've got to keep your job, William. And where did you get cigarettes anyway – they've been illegal for years?"

He gave her a resigned but determined look: "Billy. It's Billy."

"What?"

"I want you to call me Billy from now on. Not William."

"Now you've really lost your mind – what little you had to start with. Don't you even care about your daughter. Susie's already had to give up on her goal up majoring in art history because you can't afford to send her to that school she wants to go to. She's only got that SlumberJoy scholarship and will have to go into engineering. You're making us give up our dreams . . . William."

Their eyes locked across the vast expanse of the living room.

"You know what's going to happen, don't you, William? You're gonna keep this up, William, and you're gonna come home one day, William, and we won't be here, William. Me and Susie will be gone because we can't risk our lives on a man who's losing his mind. Is that what you want, William?"

"No, dear."

"Well, then, play by the rules and don't rock the boat. William."

William studied the toe of his right boot for a moment, finally saying, "I asked you to call me Billy."

It eventually turned out just as Wanda had prophesied.