Page 78 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
Oliver looked at his dad but didn’t answer.
“What if,” Richard said, “by forgiving one person—or even just withholding judgment and giving them the benefit of the doubt—you could potentially take one criminal off the streets and save dozens of people from victimhood. Would you do it?”
Oliver sighed. He didn’t want to believe that Jennifer could change. He didn’t want to fall for any more of her false promises thatthistime, it would really work out.
But he also saw what his dad was saying.
“I could try,” Oliver said. “But I have to warn you, Iamkind of a misanthrope.”
“Kind of,” Ben said, smiling and finally picking up his coffee for a sip, even though it must’ve been tepid by now. “But we still love you.”
The rest of the afternoon was filled to overflowing with playing with Noah and Davy. There were construction trucks to race and LEGO alligators to build, as well as a fort of couch cushions that at some point transformed into a pirate ship. Oliver read a half dozen picture books about aliens and outerspace before the twins declaredhiman alien, which, of course, led to a game where they were astronauts who forged the first intergalactic friendship with extraterrestrials. After several hours, Oliver wouldn’t have been surprised if he found himself levitating; the blissful innocence of his nephews and their unbridled love for him was enough to make anyone walk on air.
And it made him start to think more seriously about the possibility of teaching math to little kids. He was good with them, and they were goodforhim. Children were like an antidote for Oliver’s surliness.
In the evening, the family ate a leisurely dinner in Ben and Elsa’s backyard, lingering over a stone fruit and burrata appetizer, gnocchi with zucchini and herbs fresh from the restaurant garden, two bottles of crisp sauvignon blanc, and a buttery rhubarb pie. It was the kind of summer night Oliver wished would go on forever. But alas, at eight o’clock, Noah and Davy had to take a bath and get ready for bed, which meant time for good nights.
“Unkie Owiver?” they asked, each hugging one of Oliver’s legs. “We’ll miss you when you go home tomowo.”
Oliver scooped them up, one twin in each arm. “I’ll miss you, too. But I’ll try to visit more often, okay?” Then he kissed them all over their faces until they were giggling and screaming to be set free. They ran off after Ben and Elsa for bath time, and Richard turned in for the night.
In the guest room, waiting for Oliver on his nightstand was the yellow paper rose from the plane. He hadn’t had time to reply yet, since he’d been so busy with Neo Fintech and then with his family. Now, he picked it up to read it again.
Happiness and love can be confusing and terrifying things.
Do you think it’s ever possible for scarred hearts to heal?
I do. My heart was shattered once, but over time, I was able to put it back together. But the key, I discovered, is you have to take risks, even if it means a chance of getting hurt.
And on the other side of risk is the very real possibility of happiness.
As Oliver held the paper rose in his hand, he closed his eyes, and that’s when he heard it—the whisper of her message, along with the writtenwords. A tidal wave of familiarity suddenly hit him—chocolate ice cream cake rippled with mulberry jam, floral shampoo in her hair, gossamer blue fabric between his fingers and her skin
“Chloe?” he gasped.
The whisper was exactly like the very first pen pal letter she’d written to him in first grade.
But was he imagining it? Why would this origami rose have anything to do with her? Oliver was probably projecting, wanting a connection to her because he hadn’t heard from her in days.
And yet, he could feel the solid weight in the center of his chest, that secret place where he carried his memories of her, and it seemed to tug on the yellow square of paper in his hands.
Oliver grabbed his phone and typed in a search about the origami flowers. His hands trembled; he desperately wanted to be right but also knew how foolish and completely counter this was to his entire adulthood based on facts and figures.
A brand-newNew York Timesarticle, published yesterday, practically leapt off the screen at him.
The Incredible Kindness of Paper: How One Woman’s Small Act of Hope Has Spread into a Worldwide Inspiration
Below it was a photograph of Chloe folding a yellow paper rose at a card table in Central Park, smiling down at her work in the same way she’d looked at the Valentine’s candy grams sixteen years ago, like she was infusing each one with her own wish for the other person’s happiness.
“It’s been you all along,” Oliver said, reaching out to touch the paper rose again. “It’s always been you.”
Did she know it had been him on the other side of the paper roses? She couldn’t have, because she would have said something, right?
Not that he had said anything to her when he’d run into her on the street, at Giovanni’s, and at Bergdorf’s.
Oliver had to talk to her. He picked up his phone.
He hadn’t really looked at it since he turned in his draft for the executive meeting to Puja two days ago. After that, he’d just been head down, practicing his talk for the conference. Then there was the actual conference itself,a full, busy day of giving his presentation and attending others, before collapsing for a nap in the car ride to Ben’s house and then being completely, wonderfully submerged in family.
