Page 53 of Our Own Light

“Well, that’s the end of that particular lunch pail, then. I hope it’s alright if I stop at the company store later. I’ll have to purchase another one.”

“Why would you do that?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the vermin is still in there, probably slathering himself in honey from my leftovers.” Oliver shuddered. “I feel like I might vomit.”

“Ain’t you never seen rats in here before?”

“Yes, I have, but they typically stay far, far away from me and my lunch.” Oliver cringed. “I nearly touched him!”

“It’s only a rat,” Floyd said, walking over to the lunch pail. “I’ll shoo him away.”

“Don’t let him bite you. I’m sure you’ll upset him by taking away his treat.”

Oliver looked on nervously as Floyd kicked the pail, knocking it over and sending the rat scurrying into the darkness. He bent down and picked up the scraps.

“Mind if I toss these to him?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to feed them.”

“Well, like you said, he was already eating these.”

Floyd tossed the sandwich remnants into the darkness and wiped his hands on his pant legs. Oliver was still too shaken to retrieve the pail himself. Floyd probably realized this because he replaced the lid and set the pail on top of the coal pile in the car.

“Happy?” Floyd asked.

“Not really.”

Floyd moved in close, close enough that Oliver’s heart had started beating wildly again, though this time, not from fear of rodents.

“You’re sweet, Ollie,” Floyd whispered, his low voice sending shivers up Oliver’s spine.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to be alone with you later.”

Oliver felt as though he might faint.

“Can we leave now?” Oliver found himself saying. “I promise I will make up whatever money we lose as a result of heading out early.”

“Yeah, we can. Don’t worry about the money, though. Our car’s about full now.”

Moving their car to the weigh station, Oliver was no longer thinking about ending their arrangement. Nor was he thinking about all the ways in which he was inadequate. All Oliver could think about was how much he liked Floyd and how much Floyd seemed to like him, too. His heart stuttered at the thought. God, how excited he was to hold Floyd’s hand.

***

As soon as Oliver and Floyd were inside, they each flung their work bags to the floor, both of them sort of relishing the opportunity to be a little showy about it, and then, when they collapsed onto the couch next to one another, they immediately found each other’s hands. It was only then that Oliver realized how magnificently filthy both of them were. Floyd’s face was still caked with black coal powder. His clothes were a mess. Oliver knew he probably looked even worse himself (mostly because Floyd was so handsome, there would never be a time when Oliver wouldn’t look worse; Oliver could be wearing his nicest suit while Floyd was wearing tattered, blackened overalls, and Floyd would still be the more handsome one).

“How are you so handsome?” Oliver asked.

“Just am,” Floyd responded, ever-so-modestly. “Ain’t more handsome than you, though.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a liar, Floyd Bennett.”

“Because I ain’t no liar, Oliver Astor,” Floyd replied playfully. “You’re a handsome man. I want you to know that about yourself.”

“You need me to accept your compliment before you allow us to move on, huh?”

“Yup.”

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