Page 14 of Our Own Light

“Sure, seven. Uh, where is it?”

Floyd pointed down the road a bit.

“Over yonder—that big brick building. Before 1913 or thereabouts, it was a saloon, too. Or so I heard.”

Oliver tilted his head, looking puzzled. “1913?”

“Prohibition?”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, I completely forgot about that! While we were all still getting zozzled up in New York, alcohol was already illegal here, wasn’t it?”

“New York, huh?”

“Shit, I let that slip, didn’t I? Yeah, I’m from New York.”

“Is that what that accent is?”

“Not really. It’s how I was taught to speak in school. Elocution classes.” Floyd raised both of his eyebrows. He hadn’t never heard of something like that. “As far as where I’m from, well, I was raised in Ohio, mostly, in Cleveland, and then my parents moved to New York when I was in secondary school. Which is how I eventually ended up at Princeton.”

“So, you’re from everywhere.”

“Guess you can say that.”

“Hm.”

Oliver was becoming more and more interesting by the minute. Maybe friendship wouldn’t be so bad.

“Seven, then?” Oliver asked.

“Yup. Seven.”

Not long thereafter, Floyd arrived home. After he finished washing up, he came out to the living room area to relax in his favorite armchair. Effie was cooking supper while Josephine was out back with one of the neighbor boys.

Floyd chewed on his fingernails, trying to work out how to tell Effie that for the first time in more than eight years, he had the urge to make a friend. It wasn’t that Floyd was worried that she would mind or nothing, but Effie would probably look at him funny. Maybe ask a bunch of stuff, too. Even though Floyd had played pool back in their hometown, he hadn’t never been to the pool hall since moving to Rock Creek. Everybody in town probably thought it was because Floyd was simply a family man—someone who wanted to spend his spare time with his wife and kid. Which, he supposed, was true enough, though the real reason for him not caring to be close with the other miners wasn’t one he’d ever let on about. Effie knew the reason, of course. But she knew him better than anyone.

“Effie?”

She kept on stirring the beans on the stovetop. “Hm?”

“I reckon I might head to the pool hall tonight.”

Effie stopped stirring. When Floyd heard the sound of the metal spoon clanging against the metal stovetop, near every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation of her reaction.

“Really?” Effie asked, leaning back against the counter to face him. “Why?”

“I wasn’t very nice to Oliver today. Left him to fend for himself in the mine.”

“So you invited him to play pool with you?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with it, Floyd. I’m surprised, that’s all. You know I been wanting you to make friends ever since we moved here.”

“I know.”

“What’s so special about Oliver?”

“Nothing. I like him.”

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