OLIVER TRIED TO GIVE MATTIE SPACE. Just because she opened up to him a little outside the church window didn’t mean things were back to normal. So in an effort to not push too hard (or to not seem too desperate … or to not say anything too dreadfully stupid), he spent most of that Sunday night/Monday morning shift avoiding her altogether.
Yet as he drove down the ramp of the parking garage, Oliver replayed his conversation with Mattie in his mind. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d blown it, that he’d let eight golden hours of opportunity pass him by. The note-swapping moment outside the church had been magical, sweet, and vulnerable, and the perfect time to ask Mattie out on an official date. But he’d let it slip by and now the magic was gone. It wasn’t a fear of rejection—he felt reasonably certain Mattie would say yes if he asked. It was the added pressure of having caught Mattie’s father in the throes of some ludicrous affair. And now every time he opened his mouth, he feared it would all come spilling out. He would have to tell her eventually. But he just couldn’t fathom bearing the news that would break her heart and her family’s spine.
His brakes squealed as he paused at the mouth of the garage to let his eyes adjust to the sunlight. The Harrington faced a narrow, one-way street. So Oliver only needed to glance the other way for oncoming traffic.
That’s when he saw Mattie on the sidewalk outside the hotel’s main entrance. Oliver sat there, idling, indulging daydreamy thoughts, until a horn blared behind him. He eased his Integra onto the street, hugging the curb and watching Mattie in his rearview mirror. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he put his car in park and hopped out.
He’d only made it a few steps in Mattie’s direction when he heard another car horn, much closer this time. Oliver was barely aware of the big yellow streak passing on his right. It didn’t dawn on him that he’d left his car door open until he heard the awful crunching sound.
He turned in time to see his driver’s-side door snap off and skitter across the pavement and into an empty parking space.
The big yellow streak was a taxicab. It didn’t even slow down.
For one brief moment, the world went silent. The street still bustled, only now it was in slow motion. Oliver Miles was aware of the stares from guys with briefcases and tourists and rubber-necking drivers as time resumed its normal speed. He didn’t move toward his car, but inspected the violent wreckage from where he stood, still unsure what to make of what just happened.
When he turned, Mattie was still standing on the sidewalk, covering her gaping mouth with one hand. As he closed the distance between them, she said, “I hope it’s important.”
“What?”
“Whatever it is that made you stop in the middle of the street like that.”
“Oh, it’s just … I wanted to tell you something.”
Oliver had seen that look before, just not on Mattie. It was a cloudy mixture of hope and resignation. Oliver tried to focus on Mattie’s unblinking eyes as he searched the dusty catacombs of his memory for the last time he’d seen that expression. He kept expecting to see it on his mother’s face, but he couldn’t make it fit. He was about to give up when it hit him—it was the collective expression of every girl he’d ever dated. When it came to former girlfriends, Oliver was not just tentative, he was afraid, a perennial bench warmer. It was easier to follow, to avoid the risk of emotional injury. Relationally speaking, Oliver was a bit of a sissy.
So he not only recognized the expression; he finally knew what it meant. He was supposed to do something.
“Forget the rain check,” he said. “All of them.”
Mattie blinked, released a subliminal sigh, and said, “Excuse me?”
“Well, not forever. Just, you know, forget it temporarily.”
“Are you okay, Oliver?”
“I have no idea. Maybe, I don’t know, I’m not sure. Will you go out with me?”
In a movie, this is where the soundtrack would change and the camera would shift to some oddly sympathetic angle. Instead, a city bus belched out exhaust and elicited one of Mattie’s delightful sneezes.
“Bless you?” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a question.
“So this is it, then? You’re finally asking me on a real date?”
“Yes, Mattie Holmgren. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m even prepared to beg, if necessary.”
“You do realize that this will probably ruin everything?” She stared off in the direction of his ruined car still idling at the curb.
Oliver watched, waiting for Mattie’s expression to soften, suppressing urge after urge to blurt out hollow promises that, no, they wouldn’t ruin anything. At some point he said, “So, it’s a yes, then?”
Another small eternity passed.
“Yes, Oliver. I do believe this is a yes.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“It’s not that.” As Mattie seemed to search the street behind him for the right words, Oliver offered tiny prayers that she wasn’t going to change her mind. “It’s just that, honestly, my head and my heart really are in conflict here.”
“Can I ask you one small favor then?”
“Sure, you can ask.”
“Just this one time, you think you could leave your head at home?”
“Sorry, Oliver. I’m afraid my heart needs a chaperone.”
• • •
He opened his trunk, but there was no way his battered car door was going to fit. So he left it by the curb and drove up the ramp, feeling the cool rush of air coming from where the door used to be. It was shocking just how loud the outside world was. Back on the street, Mattie helped him lug the mangled steel appendage to the garage elevator. They eventually leaned against the back bumper of his car and Oliver removed a few scant valuables from the glove compartment—four CDs, a phone charger, and a fistful of paperwork.
As they turned to head back down to the curb, Oliver hit the Lock button on his key fob.
Mattie didn’t start laughing at him until she realized he wasn’t trying to be funny. It was a good sound, even better as it echoed off the drab concrete walls of the garage.
“I guess you need a ride home too?” she said.
“Too?”
“My car’s in the shop,” she said. “Alternator. Reese is on his way to get me.”
“Well, I was going to call my friend Roscoe, see if I can borrow his car until I figure out what to do about mine.”
“Nonsense,” Mattie said. “We’ll just drop you off at his place.”
Oliver wasn’t all that eager to see Reese again. But he didn’t plan to protest much. When they stepped out of the gloom and into the blinding sunlight, he caught Mattie frowning at a dented Subaru wagon parallel-parked across the street from the hotel. Chuck-the-security-camera-guy sat, drumming his thick fingers on the steering wheel. He had one lollipop in his mouth and a spare tucked behind his ear.
“You know that guy?” Oliver said.
“That’s Chuck,” she said. “Barry’s pal. He stops by at least once a week to ask me out.”
“How come I never see him?”
“Probably because he doesn’t want you to.”
To quell a sudden flush of envy, Oliver mentally scrambled for some droll comment about Mattie’s not-so-secret admirer. But she was already pointing toward a dark sedan idling where Oliver’s Integra had been just minutes before. She let herself into the passenger seat and motioned for Oliver to ride in back.
But it wasn’t Reese behind the wheel. It was Walter Holmgren, Mattie’s cheating father.
Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. Walter’s narrowed, then widened, then blinked in recognition. Just like they’d done across the nightclub.
Mattie tried to make small talk, but her father kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut. He seemed tense, brittle, about to crack into a million tiny pieces. Oliver sat back and bit his lip, afraid of what might come out if he opened his mouth.
Finally, Mattie said, “You okay, Pop?”
Walter shook his head, but just barely, more like a tic. Oliver braced himself for an awkward confession. But Walter checked the rearview again and said, “It’s Reese.”
“What about him?” Mattie said.
“Your mother caught him using again.”
Oliver stared at her profile, thinking back to her confidence when she accused the couple from 218 of being meth addicts. But Mattie didn’t react. She just stared.
Oliver wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say. He knew the cycle all too well—disappointment and rage giving way to fear and resignation. Oliver had found liquor bottles hidden in hampers, tucked inside rain boots, duct-taped to the inside of toilet tanks. He’d uncovered entire meals buried in the garbage can. He’d found his mother passed out in the bathtub, behind the wheel of her parked car, and sprawled in the front yard. It always felt like a kick in the chest.
He wanted to give Mattie a hug but was still trapped in the backseat. And it probably wouldn’t help anyway. Nothing would.
Somewhere along the way he realized he was praying for Mattie’s family. It was familiar, yet scary, terrain.