On not so silent reading parties

We hosted a Silent Reading Party in the bookstore last night, but I forgot to publicize it and only one person showed up. Because I’m responsible for others’ experiences, I’m conscious of every sound. The customers who came in laughing loudly with each other. A mother-daughter pair that at any other time I would have found sweet, but they perused the store making jokes and calling across the store to each other. The train going by, bringing with it the dinging of the gates going up and down. I wondered, not for the first time, if I should be arranging events around the train schedule. I left the music playing softly in the background because without it I thought it would be too silent and I also didn’t think the other reader would be able to hear it from where she sat in the armchair at the front of the store. The front door stood open because the cool breeze coming through the store felt so nice. We could hear the cars pulling in and out of the gas station across the street. The dryer in the basement buzzed: the upstairs neighbors’ laundry had finished. The customers footsteps caused the floorboards to creak as they approached the register. After checking out, they left, leaving us readers alone. I opened an email, then felt guilty. The other reader couldn’t see me, but I felt like I was cheating, and maybe she could hear the click of the mouse. I went back to my book. I read 34 pages before the reader came up before the allotting 45 minutes were up and said she was leaving.