Page 13 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
A familiar warmth trembled through Oliver’s veins as he watched the woman who had once been his favorite person in the entire universe, the one who could have been his. Before everything fell apart. Before he shattered her heart in the cruelest of ways, such that even now, the shame of it stung like lemon in an open wound.
She looked up then, as if she felt his gaze. Maybe she had. A long time ago, they’d been so inseparable that everyone had referred to Chloe andOliver as a single unit—“Clover.” Back then, whatever Oliver thought, Chloe knew, and the reverse had also been true. But he couldn’t read her thoughts now.
Chloe squinted at him. “Wait. Are you…?” Then she laughed at herself. “Never mind, it’s totally impossible.” She laughed again. “I’m being silly. Ignore me.”
Oliver had a split second to decide. Stay and tell her who he was? Or excuse himself and leave the past alone? If he walked away, she probably wouldn’t think twice. While she looked so much like she had when they were sixteen, the only thing the same about him were his mossy-green eyes. Otherwise, Oliver had grown five more inches since then and put on thirty pounds of muscle. The lines of his face were more defined now, too. And then there were the clothes. He’d been an emo kid back then, all black hoodies and skinny jeans and choppy, dyed black hair instead of his natural auburn. No one would expect that teenager to be clean-cut and dressed in a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu World Championship shirt and Yankees cap now.
He wanted to tell Chloe who he was; his heart leaped toward her while his brain urged him to run away. There had been a Chloe-shaped hole inside Oliver since the day they’d parted, and he ached to fill it, to be whole again.
But the past had also carved a chasm between them, and there were secrets at the bottom that were probably better left buried. Chloe deserved better than him. And he didn’t deserve her at all.
“You’re right, I don’t know you,” Oliver growled. “And watch where you’re going next time.”
Chloe made a little noise as he elbowed past her. It was the same small squeaking sound she used to make whenever her feelings were hurt, although she didn’t know she did it. He remembered how he used to hold her, how she said he always made her feel safe and like everything would be okay as long as they were together. Oliver flinched at hearing her hurt now—and knowing he was the cause of it.
But still, he walked on. He ducked around the corner at 3rd Avenue and St. Marks Place. It wasn’t until he was sure Chloe had moved on that Oliver backtracked to the Japanese grocery store he had come for.
Dear Chloe,
I learned something really cool. This∞is the symbol for infinity. That means a number that goes on and on forever and ever. It’s hard to think about a number that never stops, but every time I try, I smile, so it’s probly a good thing.
I think you can say other things are infinity, too, like us being friends.
Chloe + Oliver =∞
Daddy said he’ll ride bikes with me to your birthday party! He said it’s 20 minuts but if he shows me the way, I can ride there by myself next time so we can play whenever we want.
I can’t wait to meet you and eat ice creem together!
∞
Oliver
Twenty-five years ago
The first time he saw her was at her seventh birthday party. While all the other kids were in practical cotton T-shirts and sweatpants—optimized for movement and the inevitable mess of ice cream—Chloe appeared from behind the freezer cases like a fairy who had made stops at the zoo and the clown supply store on her way to the Ice Creamery. She wore a black-and-white-striped knit hat with zebra ears, a forest-green blouse, a long, fluffy, multilayered blue tulle skirt that would put most tutus to shame, and underneath, rainbow polka-dot leggings and candy-red tap shoes.
She was impractical yet magical, and her irrepressible smile sealed the deal. Oliver might have only been seven, but he already knew he would tame lions and fight dragons for this girl. Or rob another clown supply store, if that’s what Chloe wanted.
The other kids liked her, but didn’t quite know what to do with her. But Oliver did. He would love her, in every way that he could.
One time—in second grade—she stood in front of the class during sharing time and told everyone about her neighbor’s black cat, who had given birth to another litter of orange kittens (it had also done so the previous year). Mark, the leader of the “popular” kids, yelled that that was impossible, and that Chloe was a liar.
That weekend, Oliver biked all the way across town to the park where Mark and his friends played, and Oliver pushed him off the swings. Mark and his gang subsequently beat the crap out of Oliver later, but it was for Chloe, and it was worth it. (Also, the black cat really did have orange kittens.)
They did their homework at each other’s houses, even though theydidn’t live in the same neighborhood. They spent every holiday together—Halloween in joint costumes, Thanksgiving and Kansas Gingerbread Christmas and New Year’s Day mochi and ozoni soup at Chloe’s grandmother’s farmhouse. They never went to bed without calling each other first to say good night.
By the time they reached sixth grade and actually attended the same middle school, they’d become “Clover,” so devoted to each other that no one used their individual names anymore. In the summers, they would crawl out of Chloe’s bedroom window on the second story and lie down on the little roof above the porch so that the crickets could sing to them until they were drowsy. In autumn, when the University of Kansas students returned to campus, Oliver joined Chloe in her favorite activity—being at the Ice Creamery to greet everyone. The college kids knew them well and would always say, “Hi, Clover. What’s the best flavor you’ve got today?”
Oliver thought it would always be the two of them, together, inseparable.
Chloe
At lunchtime on Monday, Chloe stood at a subway exit with a wicker basket full of yellow paper roses. She had written notes with her signature rosebud hearts and folded flowers all weekend until she couldn’t feel her fingertips anymore. She had also withstood Becca’s comments about how the origami weren’t supposed to multiply like rabbits, and couldn’t Chloe work in her room instead of at the kitchen table?
But now that Chloe was here, she questioned her original plan. She’d thought she could position herself at the top of the subway staircase and hand the paper roses to commuters. Watching them rushing out of the exit and swarming around her through the plaza, though, she realized her initial idea was entirely the wrong approach.
She could already imagine how it would go:
