Page 26 of After Effect

“Yesterday, you got to see where my father died…” He began. His tone was both serious and unreadable. “Today I want to show you where he lived.”

“So you grew up under a rock? That makes so much more sense now.”

“Very funny.” Finch rolled his eyes, though the soft smile on his lips betrayed him. “He used to bring me here when I was having a bad day. He’d take me for a ride up Mulholland. We’d get some pistachio ice cream in Malibu, then we’d tuck in here, out of sight and away from the troubles of the world, to eat it.”

“Pistachio? Just too classy for vanilla, were you?”

“My tastes would never be that bland.”

“Of course, of course. What was I thinking?” I tossed him a snide grin and settled in next to him. “How old were you when he got into the accident?”

“Fourteen.” Finch frowned.

“Was your mom in the car, too?”

“No, but she died around the same time. It’s… complicated.”

I wasn’t sure I should press further. It all felt entirely too personal to talk about with someone who was technically my boss. After a long pause, I turned to him again. “Why are you showing me this?” I was happy he was. Happier than I even understood. But I didn’t feel like it made sense. This wasn’t our relationship. I’m not even sure it ever could be.

Finch’s expression remained static as he ran a hand down his chin where a light stubble had formed overnight. “We’ve got a ten song album to write… I thought it might inspire you.”

Finch wouldn’t make eye contact anymore. Instead, he put an arm around my shoulder, and continued to look at the sea. It was the kind of ambiguous gesture that, with all its simplicity, could be the most intimate thing in the world or the most deeply platonic. And I hated every part of my brain that wanted it to be the former.

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