Page 47 of Our Own Light

“I need to head back,” Floyd said, standing quickly. “See you tomorrow, Ollie.”

“Bright and early.”

Floyd kept walking, unable to even look back.

***

By the time Floyd was back home, Josephine had already fallen asleep. Effie was sitting on the couch knitting, probably still too rattled to sleep herself. Floyd sat next to her.

“Did you thank Oliver?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I still can’t believe he found her.”

Floyd nodded again. This time, Effie looked over at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Floyd had to concentrate on keeping his voice even.

“Ollie asked me to forget what he said.”

“What do you mean?”

Floyd swallowed thickly. “What he told me. Last night. About liking me.”

“Oh, Floyd. I’m sorry.” Effie placed a hand on his knee. “I thought you told me that you held pinkies or something sweet like that.”

“Yeah, well, it must not have meant that much to him.”

“Are you alright?”

Floyd shook his head. “Not right now, no.”

Effie looked at him thoughtfully—her eyes kind and her brow furrowed. Floyd could tell that she was trying to figure out what to say or how to help. That was very Effie. For her to be content, she had to know that she was taking care of the people around her.

“Here,” she said, handing over the knitting needles. “I’m teaching you how to knit.”

Floyd blew out a breath. “Why?”

“Because you need something else to focus on right now.”

“Can’t we play checkers?” he asked. “Or chess?”

“Nuh-uh, you ain’t pitiful enough for me to teach you how to play chess.”

“Worth a try.”

“Now, here, I’ll show you how to make the basic stitch,” she said, placing her hands on top of his and adjusting his fingers. “But first, I need you to hold them needles right.”

And so, Effie and Floyd spent the next hour knitting together. It wasn’t easy to learn. For Floyd, the whole thing felt frustrating and pointless and mind-achingly boring. During their lesson, there were a few times when Floyd’s thoughts flitted back to Ollie. Whenever it happened, Effie must have noticed a change in him because she’d work to take his mind off him somehow.

When the two of them were finally ready to head to the backroom, Floyd was too busy being mad at them stupid knitting needles for never working right to think too much about Ollie.

He was so stinkin’ thankful for it.

***

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