The Doorman

The senior commonly called "the doorman" enters the school library through the outside doors around 11:15 AM. He is of average height with black hair that is in need of a trim. Like many of his fellow high school students, he is cursed with acne. He is also cursed with fat cheeks and a little gut, which he blames on his father's genes. He has just enjoyed a delicious lunch of fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, a chocolate chip cookie, and chocolate milk in the school cafeteria. Although he is old enough to drive, he does not possess a driver's license, so he cannot go off-campus like his fellow seniors. He places his books and backpack at the desk located near the outside doors and begins to walk around the library.

The doorman sees the usual "library rats" today. All of them are in the lower grade levels. He sees the girl with the rat-like nose who helps out at the checkout desk, the one who despises him because of his duty. She reveals her immaturity by sticking out her tongue at him. He ignores her and hopes she will someday receive an eternity of zits. He sees the boy with the shaven head, who is currently sitting alone at a table and reading a book. The boy also hates the doorman because of his duty and gives him a stare of contempt. As he returns the stare, the doorman wants a cue stick. He sees the three boys who do nothing but play the flight simulator on one of the library's computers. Like many of his peers, they are indifferent to him.

The doorman notices that the assistant librarian is manning the checkout desk, as usual. The librarian, as always, is having lunch with other members of the faculty in the nearby faculty lounge, which is just a room with a glass pane. The librarian is apparently telling a joke, for as soon as he stops talking, the rest of the lounge's occupants break out into laughter. The assistant librarian is sorting out papers.

"Hi," the doorman says to the assistant librarian after he arrives at the checkout desk.

"Hi," the assistant librarian says with a friendly smile. "How are you doing today?"

"Fine," the doorman answers, which for him means that he is still alive and has not contemplated suicide recently.

"How's the family?" the assistant librarian asks.

"They're fine, too," the doorman replies with a lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

"How's school going for you?"

"Okay. I'm still getting good grades."

During their brief talk, the rat-nosed girl narrows his eyes toward the doorman and forms her mouth in a contemptuous manner. Finished talking, he goes around the bookshelves to read the summaries and the contents of the books.

After looking around, the doorman mans his post and keeps himself busy by doing some schoolwork. When the work seems too hard, he also does some drawing on a separate sheet of paper. His drawings consist of a variety of humans, monsters, cyborgs, and robots, most of them inspired by what he sees on TV, especially the robot animehe has come to love during his stay in Japan, the most recent stop in his life as a military dependent (he can recall living in Spain and the Philippines). Sometimes he draws lightly on his schoolwork and erases the doodles. Soon, the people come through the outside doors. Many are students, but there are a few teachers in the mix. Some just pass the doorman without a word. Some pause to look at the doorman, and then they move on. Some actually try to talk with him. "What's your name?" they ask. The doorman refuses to give his name. "What grade are you in?" they ask. He does not tell them that he is a senior; most of them are in the lower grade levels. They ask him why he does his duty. The doorman always gives them the same answer: No one else would. Then he returns to his schoolwork and occasional doodling, sometimes getting up to walk around the library and explore the various titles in the bookshelves.

Time passes. When the doorman gets up from his desk to look around, he sees the assistant librarian and her annoying little helper standing at the desk, waiting for people to check out books. He sees students in groups seated at tables; some of them studying, some of them talking, and some of them doing both. Those in the second category annoy the doorman. He sees some students using the computers for schoolwork. He sees some students exit into the hallway without a pass. They ignore the sign in front of the door that says "NO ADMITTANCE INTO THE HALLWAY WITHOUT A PASS." He assumes either they are going to their lockers or to the bathroom. He walks up to the door and locks it to teach them not to disregard the rules, and then he returns to his post. He soon hears banging on the door leading to the hallway. He gets up and stands a few feet from the door. Through the little pane of glass on the door, he sees the students who stepped out into the hallway as they look for someone to open the door. The doorman grins, enjoying their momentary helplessness. The helper girl with the rat nose, to the chagrin of the doorman, leaves the checkout desk and unlocks the door. The students reenter and retake their seats.

The rat-nosed girl walks up to the doorman. "Why do you keep doing that?" she asks, annoyed. "What is your problem?"

"My problem?" The doorman sneers, then points to the sign. "Maybe you should try reading it sometime. That is, if you are able to," he says in a cruel and sarcastic tone.

One of the students who is locked out, a girl with freckles, hears the conversation between the doorman and the rat-nosed girl and joins them. "What's your problem?" the freckled girl demands angrily.

The doorman points to the sign again. "See the nice sign?" he says to the freckled girl with a big smile, talking to her like she was a kindergartner. "Try reading it sometime. That is, if you're literate."

The assistant librarian hears the three and leaves the checkout desk to talk to them. "What's going on?" she asks.

"He locked out some people for no apparent reason," the rat-nosed girl says, pointing to the doorman.

"You know the rules," the assistant librarian says nicely yet firmly with a smile. "No one is allowed in the hallway without a pass."

"But he didn't have to lock them out," the rat-nosed girl says.

"Yeah," the freckled girl says in agreement. "We were just getting stuff from our lockers. No big deal."

"Rules are rules," the assistant librarian says, still sounding firm and nice, her smile growing wider and tighter. "Unless you have a pass, you can't go into the hallway during lunch." With that statement, the matter is dismissed, and the doorman returns to his post. He thinks to himself that the assistant librarian is too soft on rule-breakers, but he never lets her know about his opinion. He is not in a position to criticize her since she is older and more experienced.

While growing up, he learned to always respect his elders, no matter how much he disagreed with them. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," his mom would tell him. "Remember, they've been around longer than you have," she said, referring to adults.

Soon the time is 11:29. The doorman gets up and walks to the outside doors. He sees a group of kids in the distance running toward the doors. The doorman recognizes them as a group of lower classmen who spend their lunch period in the library. He knows that they do nothing but talk in the library. He knows that they do not study or do something quietly.

The doorman checks his watch. The time is 11:30. The kids are closing in on the doors. Before one of them could enter, the doorman locks the doors. The library is now closed for the last ten minutes of lunch. He returns to his post. He cannot help but smile. Locking the door gave him a sense of power. He loves being in control, something that rarely happens in his life. Moving from country to country was not his choice. Living in a foreign place was not his choice, although his experiences were mostly good except for the Mount Pinatubo eruption. In his home, he is the one who is always being controlled; this was the norm throughout his life. His dad tells him to keep his room clean, to always vacuum downstairs, and to take out the trash. His mom tells him to keep his bathroom clean because the smell of it makes her sick. He wonders why his mom gets so annoyed about his bathroom; the smell never bothers him. Both parents would yell at him if he did not do things quickly. He hates the yelling. His little brothers refuse to follow his orders. No amount of screaming could make them comply. The eldest of the two never listens to the doorman when he tells him to put away his clothes after the doorman sacrifices some of his time to fold them. Whenever the doorman tells his little brother to put away his clothes, the little brother always gives an excuse like he is too busy watching TV or he is too tired and promises to put away his clothes later. "Later" is usually about two days later or when his mom finally orders him to put away his clothes, whichever came first.

The kids bang the glass pane of the door and holler at the doorman, who is standing before the doors looking at the latecomers. They demand loudly that they be let in. They show their watches to him, telling him that he is too early. The doorman simply goes back to his post and continues his schoolwork.

Seeing that their efforts are futile, the kids start to leave. They are about a few feet away from the doors when the boy with the shaven head leaves his seat and approaches the doors. The doorman stands up and watches the boy carefully. The boy opens the left door wide and leaves the library, smirking at the doorman. The kids see the opportunity to get inside and head for the open door.

The doorman springs into action. He grabs the door handle and tries to slam the door. One of the kids manages to grab the door handle on the outside and starts to pull, but the doorman pulls back. The kid uses both hands, and the doorman also uses both hands. The two have a tug-of-war with the door, with neither side dominating for a while. Finally, the doorman, with a quick pull, slams the door. Defeated, the kid says a few inappropriate words to the doorman before leaving with his friends.

The doorman hates it when people swear. He got his abhorrence of swearing from his mother, who always taught him that such language was unacceptable and would be punished severely if she ever caught him using those words. He has an urge to grab the kid and squeeze dishwashing liquid down his throat, then scrub his mouth with a toilet brush. He enjoys the image, but he doubts he would be able to actually commit the act. He did not want to get in trouble with the principal. He never got in trouble, and he did not want to start now.

The doorman returns to his post and breathes a sigh of relief. This was rather close for him. It is his duty to make sure no one gets into the library during the last ten minutes of lunch. It is his sacred duty to protect the library from the scum of the school.

The doorman sighs. Sacred duty? he thinks. Scum of the school? He shakes his head. Who cares about a few kids coming in after closing time?

The doorman recalls that he does. He remembers what happened before the closing rule was in effect. He remembers kids coming in at the last minute not to study. He remembers them coming in to socialize, to gossip, to make noise. Such noise was nonproductive in the doorman's view. When the closing rule was put in effect, the doorman took it upon himself to enforce it because he likes order; he cannot stand chaos. He was raised in a household by parents who demanded order. As a result, he was praised by the faculty. Occasionally, a teacher would arrive at the library after the door was locked. Since the teacher was ranked above him, he would open the door for him or her. He or she would compliment him for his work.

His fellow students, however, are a different story. He is always treated like a pariah. Not even the social outcasts welcomed him into their fold. Once he became the doorman, most of the lower-ranking members of the student body treated him like a traitor. He is constantly booed at by these people, and they took to calling him "the doorman" and sometimes the "library sheriff." Most of the juniors and other seniors just call him "weird" and continue to be unaware of his existence. He finds that tolerable.

Although he hates the insults, the doorman tries to ignore them and keep his focus on his duty. He is proud of how he keeps out the latecomers, who come only to talk and make useless noise. Of course, some get through because they beat him to the door before he locks it, they outpull him and get in quickly, or they have inside help. Once they are in, the doorman is powerless. He wants to grab them and throw them out, but he knows that if he uses force, he is breaking the rules that he lives by. He will get in trouble with the principal if he hurts them in any way, so he does not use force.

The doorman recalls his biggest failure. It is still bothering him; all his past mistakes, no matter how trivial they are, still bother him. He is a perfectionist. It was a Friday. The door was locked on time. He was doing his homework, just minding his own business, when a group of tough girls arrived at the outside doors. They tried to get in and discovered that the doors are locked. They spotted him at his post, alternating between doing his work and drawing on it. They banged on the door to get his attention. He continued his work, ignoring the girls' banging. They shouted profanity at him, ordering him to open the door or they would beat the living daylights out of him. He continued to ignore them. Finally, the rat-nosed girl got out from behind the checkout desk and walked to the outside doors. She gave the doorman a mischievous grin. Before he could stop her, she opened the door for the girls. The girls entered and surrounded the doorman, who was still sitting at his post. Satisfied with what she had done, the rat-nosed girl returned to the checkout desk, leaving the doorman at the mercy of the girls.

The girls, angry at the doorman, started to demean him. The doorman kept his head down, hoping that it would protect him. They called him names like "retard" and "faggot." Some words they used were so profane that he would never say them unless he wanted his mouth to be forcefully cleaned. Throughout the name-calling, he kept his head down and was silent. They looked at his stuff, and one of them picked up his Lion King pencil bag and began to taunt him about it, calling him a "sissy" and other worse terms. When he tried to grab it from her, she held it out of his reach and continued to taunt him. Eventually, they got tired of him and went to a group of chairs. The girl who grabbed his pencil bag threw it down in front of him and called the doorman a "retarded faggot" before she joined her friends.

The doorman felt humiliated. The other students saw what was happening to him, and they did not do anything to help him. They enjoyed watching the doorman being treated cruelly. The thought of being disgraced, of being exposed as being vulnerable, angered the doorman. In the Philippines, someone poured Coke on him during lunch one day, and at another time, someone else tied his shoelaces together while he was distracted; he fell hard on the ground, scraping his knee. In both cases, everyone around him watched and laughed at him. He marched up to the assistant librarian, who was talking with some of the kids who had their stuff packed up and were gathered near the exit into the hallway, waiting for the bell to ring.

"Do you know what happened to me?" the doorman said to the assistant librarian, his voice so loud that he got the attention of everyone in the library. Conversations stopped and kids watched as the doorman continued. He pointed to the rat-nosed girl, who smiled smugly at him behind the assistant librarian's back. "This little ill-mannered...wench let in some girls. She helped break the rules by letting these juvenile delinquents in!" He pointed to the three tough girls, who were sitting nearby reading magazines.

"Now..." the assistant librarian began in her firm yet nice tone.

"And that wasn't the worst part!" The doorman caught his breath. His face was red and to the onlookers, it seemed that the veins in his forehead were popping out. "I was then subjected to the most degrading behavior ever by these no-good-niks!" The assistant librarian tried to speak again, but she was cut off. "And you know what? Not one of these bloody little stinkers bothered to help me out!" He pointed at all the kids present. He looked at one girl with his eyes wide open and his teeth clinched. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?" The girl did not say a word and just stared at the doorman, petrified. "You all enjoyed seeing me helpless over there, didn't you?" He looked around him. "DIDN'T YOU?!!" he shouted at them, his fists clinched at his sides. Some of the kids jumped back upon hearing him. "You ungrateful idiots! After all I've done for you..." He scrunched up his face, holding back any possible tears. "I come here, and all I do is my duty, and in return I get this type of treatment!"

"Don't worry about it," the assistant librarian told him calmly.

The doorman ignored the assistant librarian and glared at the kids. "You ungrateful little punks..." he said with a snarl. When the bell finally rang, he left the library in a huff with everyone staring at him quietly.

He learned later that several students, including the rat-nosed girl, thought he would never return. The doorman disappointed them. He returned to the library the following Monday and continued his duty. He knew he had a bad temper and was prone to shouting when the pressure was too much. He did that a lot when his brothers refused to do what he said. Shouting usually led to more shouting. If his mom or dad was in the house, one of them would reprimand him for his loudness and tell him he was so loud that the other people in the garden apartment could hear him. After he left the library that Friday, he wanted to get a gun, preferably a tommy gun, and hunt down everyone who made fun of him and riddle them with bullets. When it was sure they were dead, he would shoot the corpses; maybe blast them with a flamethrower. Fortunately for his oppressors, he calmed down as the day passed. His conscience, well-nurtured by his parents, was still working, and the thought of actually killing people disgusted him. He could write about killing, and he could draw someone killing someone else, but he could never bring himself to actually kill someone.

There are no more attempts to sneak into the library, so the doorman spends his time doing his homework, drawing, and looking around the library. While he is doing his homework, he sees three boys walk toward the doors. He also sees a short girl walking toward the library. He knows the short girl because she rides his bus. Riding the bus bothers him. The kids sometimes keep annoying him by reminding him that he is too old to ride the bus and he should be driving to school. The doorman thinks that the kids should be thankful that his conscience still works; otherwise he would just grab them by the throats and choke the life out of them. Besides, the bus has a video camera that records what happens on the bus. The last thing the doorman wants is to be convicted of murder in a Japanese court. Being a military dependent, he cannot stand trial in a military court. He would serve his sentence in a Japanese prison, and he has read horror stories about Japanese prisons with their barren cells, strict discipline, and meager rations. Also, his parents would be very disappointed in him.

The boys push the door open and exit the library. The door remains wide open, so the doorman gets up from his post. The short girl sees her chance to get into the library, and she is about to enter when she sees the doorman approaching the doors. She quickly changes her mind and walks away from the door. The doorman quickly closes the door, knowing that the short girl is very timid and easily scared. She is not like the girls who harassed him. This pleases the doorman because the short girl is easy to terrify. For a moment, he remembers that he is like the short girl, a thought that he tries to forget. He hates his weakness, so he hides it behind a facade of strength.

The doorman returns to his post and draws some more. He is done with his homework. He looks at his drawings. He likes what he creates, but he is reminded of his older brother. His older brother is a better artist than he is. He knows how to incorporate foreshadowing, perspective, shading, and realistic posing in his drawings. The doorman's drawings of humans, robots, monsters, and cyborgs are very impressive, but all of them are drawn in lifeless poses and just stand there on the paper looking like statues. His older brother can draw cars and other vehicles while the doorman cannot even draw a car correctly. His car resembles a pile of boxes with circles underneath.

Art is not the only thing his older brother excels in. The doorman recalls how his brother played high school football and wrestling before he graduated and left Japan for the States. His brother was an excellent wrestler, either placing first or second at regional tournaments. His brother also was at one time the president of the National Honors Society. The doorman preferred to stay out of athletics and other school activities and focus on his studies. He was just recently made a member of the NHS only because the current president, one of his frequent classmates, persuaded him to join. The doorman recalls the many girlfriends his brother had. In his opinion, his brother was the ultimate ladies' man. The doorman, in all his life, never had a girlfriend. He always sees the beautiful girls in the hallway, in his classes, and all around the campus. Most of them he does not know personally; he rarely knows their names, only their faces. He cannot bring himself to talk with them because he is afraid they will reject him. He also believes they are taken or are waiting for someone good-looking to notice them, leaving him out of the running. The doorman also recalls how his brother kept getting phone call after phone call from his friends while he got none. The doorman was never known by his name; he was always known as "the little brother of the Great One."

While the doorman continues to draw, two girls approach the doors. One of the girls is carrying a pile of books. The girl without the books tries to open the door and finds it locked. She shakes the door to get anyone's attention. The doorman hears the noise, sees them, and recognizes them as freshmen; in fact, most of the people who make fun of him, including the rat-nosed girl and the shaven-headed boy, are freshmen. The doorman gets up to see why the girls have not left. He walks to the door and opens it up a crack. "I'm sorry, but the library is closed," he explains to the girls firmly.

Hearing that, the girl with the books frowns. "But I really need to return these books," she explains, nodding toward the pile she was carrying. "They're due today, and I can't afford to have another late fee," she pleads. "My parents would kill me. I've got enough problems as it is." She looks at the doorman wide-eyed and with her mouth in a hopeful smile.

The doorman thinks for a moment before making his decision. "Okay, you can come in," he tells the girl with the books as he opens the door for her. The girl with the books breathes out a sigh of relief and enters the library, then waits for her friend. The other girl is about to enter when the doorman holds up his hand in front of her. "Hold it. Are you returning any books due today?" he asks stiffly.

"No," the girl answers.

"I'm sorry, but you can't come in until the bell rings." The doorman quickly closes the door just in case the other girl gets any ideas. He watches the girl with the books walk to the checkout counter. The rat-nosed girl greets her, and the two begin a conversation. The girl waits for her friend outside.

The doorman notices that the students who went off-campus for lunch are returning. He thinks about how he has gotten used to cars being driven on the left side of the road and wonders if he will get used to the American way of driving when he gets back to the States. He watches as they park their cars in the spaces in the parking lot designated for students. Some of the cars are brand new and are nice and shiny. Others look like they need a car wash or even a new body. The doorman watches as the assorted seniors and juniors got out of their cars with their friends, usually a mixture of all grade levels. He watches as they talk amongst themselves as they walk toward the school. The doorman wonders what they are saying. He wonders if they went to Burger King, the Food Court, the NCO Club, or the Officers' Club for lunch. He is envious of his peers, of how they hang out and of how they are free to leave the school for lunch while he is stuck on campus because he lacks connections. He wishes that he was among them. He wishes that he had friends to talk to, to joke around with. He wishes that he belonged.

The doorman shakes his head. He knows it will never happen. He cannot bring himself to talk with other people outside a classroom. He is brilliant and is able to solve a hard algebra problem and get an "A" on a test, but he is out of touch with the latest trends. After school, he rarely has any contact with any of his peers. He stays mainly at home, doing his homework, watching TV, and staying in his room reading books. His parents usually bother him and tell him to do some cleaning around the house, especially his bathroom.

The doorman continues to watch the students returning from lunch at whatever place they ate at. He wants to be one of them, but he cannot stand being in their company. He is afraid of being with them because he is afraid of making a wrong move, of making a mistake. He hates mistakes and his method of dealing with them is to avoid making them. He is afraid of taking risks. There is a chance the others would accept him, but he feels that it is a small chance. No one would accept a doorman into his or her group; the rat-nosed girl and the tough girls are proof of that. No one cares what he says or what he does. Also, he knows from experience that military kids lose friends as they move from base to base. Now that he is older, he questions the idea of making friends, then leaving them after three years or watching them leave. Even if he could talk with his peers, it would not last. He would move on. They would move on.

The doorman checks his watch. It is 11:39. He gathers his stuff and puts his backpack on. He picks up his stuff and walks toward the doors. The girl is still waiting for her friend. The doorman sighs; lunch would be over soon, and the doors would soon be unlocked. He reminds himself that this is his last year of high school and he is not going to do his duty again next year. Despite all the insults, he will miss it. Without his duty to perform, he will lose his purpose. The school counselor told him yesterday that he is in the top three in his class. He knows that he is third; the NHS president is the confirmed valedictorian. He never doubted that she would be the valedictorian, so he wanted to be the salutatorian. He did not get that position; some newcomer took that place from him. He sometimes joked with the NHS president in the classes they had together that when he gives his salutatory address at the graduation, he would begin by addressing her with the following: "Told you so." Now that would never be.

The doorman checks his watch and sees that it is 11:40. The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. People start to get up, gather their belongings, and leave the library through the door leading to the hallway. He unlocks the doors and stands back as the girl enters the library and walks toward the checkout desk, where her friend and the rat-nosed girl are still talking. The doorman watches as the girl joins the conversation. He watches the three girls talk for a moment, then exits through the doors and proceeds to his next class, unnoticed by anyone.