Page 10 of Our Own Light

Oliver smiled at Floyd. “You were a breaker boy?”

“Uh-huh,” Floyd confirmed. “I started work when I was ten.”

“Christ,” Oliver said, inadvertently letting the profanity slip, which he then swiftly tried to cover it up with more commentary. No one else in Rock Creek seemed to curse or take the Lord’s name in vain. “Before this, I had never even had a single callous.”

“Well, that’s... something,” Floyd said with a simpering smile.

Likely translation: Well, that’s pathetic.

“Very something,” Oliver agreed, shame coloring his cheeks.

Effie returned with the goose grease—off-white in color, like the pork fat he had seen his family cook save from time to time. Even though the thought of rubbing it on his skin made his stomach turn, Oliver knew he had to soothe his hands somehow, which only seemed to be worsening the more time passed without care.

“Thank you,” Oliver said, taking the jar. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“No need,” Floyd said.

“Do you want to stay for supper?” Effie asked. “I’m serving breakfast foods tonight. Corned beef hash and peas. Well, the peas ain’t really a breakfast food, but we had a can.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

“Alright, yes, I’d love to.”

After Oliver washed up, he came back out to the living room to smear some goose grease on his injured hands. Effie and Josephine set the table while Floyd sat on the sofa nearby, looking a bit lost in thought. Oliver thought he should try to make conversation with him even though he hadn’t the slightest idea what the two of them might have in common.

“So, what’d you end up buying yesterday? Strawberry or peach?”

Floyd cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, strawberry.”

“Good choice,” Oliver said before realizing that it seemed like he thought Floyd needed his approval or something. “I’ve never liked either that much, to be honest. Fresh fruit is tastier. Have you ever had frozen fruit?”

“Frozen fruit?”

“Yeah. We had a Domelre where I lived before.”

“What’s a . . . Domellery?”

“Domestic Electric Refrigerator. Just a new kind of appliance. Keeps things cold.” Oliver wondered if he was sounding like a pretentious asshole. “It wasn’t that impressive, honestly.” Did that make it better or worse? “But it had a little compartment for people to make ice, if they wanted to. I thought making ice seemed a little boring, so I liked to stick fruit in there instead. Strawberries and blueberries mostly. Cherries once, but that was a mistake, what with the pits and everything.”

“Oh.”

Jesus, what a flop that was. While Oliver was busy trying to think of something else to say about it, Floyd stood up and clapped him on the back on the way to the kitchen.

“You’re an interesting man, Oliver Astor.”

Well, it was a compliment at least, which was better than the “oh.”

Oliver followed Floyd to the kitchen table. Halfway through their meal, he remembered that he should have complimented their home.

“I like the wallpaper,” Oliver said, looking over at the closest wall. All of them were lined with newspapers. “I haven’t seen that before.”

“Effie likes to put up the happy stories,” Floyd explained. “Like if someone has a baby, she’ll paste up the newspaper clipping. Lots of families hang up newspapers for insulation. But Effie is picky about which stories she chooses.”

Effie tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s probably silly.”

“Not at all,” Oliver said. “I should try that, too. Or maybe the opposite. Lining my kitchen with the obituaries wouldn’t ruin my appetite, personally, but perhaps other folks could benefit. If someone wanted to feel sad, they could simply come over and read my walls.” Floyd snorted a laugh, cocking one eyebrow in a curious manner and looking at Oliver like maybe his head had fallen off. “Sorry. I’ve been told that I have an interesting sense of humor.”

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