Page 30 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
Sometimes wishing can make a dream come true.
I guarantee it ABSOLUTELY does not.
Chloe wrote,I respectfully disagree, and I’m willing to bet you on it.She added a smiley face to make it lighthearted; she didn’t mean it like a challenge. And, of course, she drew her signature rosebud.
She refolded the gold-striped paper into a flower. It was a lot worse for the wear—the paper had been crumpled after all—but pointless or not, it made Chloe giggle.
Then she made herself some tea and grabbed a handful of circus animal cookies—the very-bad-for-your-body but very-good-for-your-soul kind covered in pink-and-white icing and sprinkles. On her way to her bedroom, she glanced over at the wrinkled paper rose one more time.
“Oh, all right, you’ve served your purpose.” There was no reason to keep it; in responding, Chloe had countered the message of doubt with her more sanguine one, and she considered the balance of the universe—or at least of New York—restored to a slight tip in favor of optimism.
She plucked the paper rose from the table and tossed it in the trash. Then she went to her bedroom to read for the rest of the night.
In the morning, the discarded flower was gone, but Chloe didn’t notice, because she didn’t know to look.
Dear Chloe,
I know we said school dances were lame, but I was thinking, now that we’re in high school, maybe we should give it a try? Maybe they’re better than the middle school ones, you know?
So… Would you go to Winter Formal with me?
∞
(Letter not sent, because… ugh.)
Oliver
Seventeen years ago
Oliver!” Chloe tore down the halls of Lawrence High School, a bouquet of color in the poppy-print dress she’d sewn herself, and came to a skidding halt in front of his locker. “It happened! It finally happened!”
“What did?” Oliver continued stuffing books into his backpack. At least twice a week, Chloe would be like this, over the moon about something. Her enthusiasm was the same whether the news was the addition of blue raspberry sour straws to the vending machine or being voted freshman class president. It was one of his favorite parts of her—her delight in even the most mundane. But he personally didn’t have a bottomless well of energy, so Oliver had learned to let Chloe spill her news before he reacted proportionately.
“Charles Childress asked me to Winter Formal! You know how he and I have the same birthday, so I thought maybe that was a sign from the universe, and it is, because it happened, and now he’s my boyfriend!”
Oh.
She flung herself at Oliver and hugged him.
He clenched his jaw but hugged her back.
Oliver didn’t have anything bad to say about Charles. He was decent at math and protective of his little sisters; he always called the adults “sir” and “ma’am” and volunteered as a Little League coach on the weekends.
But Chloe was made of stardust and joie de vivre, whereas Charles was so… mild. Besides, both their names started withChand so did his last name, and honestly, that looked stupid—Charles and Chloe Childress.
“I’m ecstatic for you, Clo,” Oliver said, holding her close to his chest.
She looked up at him. “Are you really? You like Charles, right?”
“I do,” Oliver said. “And as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Because even if she couldn’t be his, he would always be hers. Even if she never knew.
Oliver
The damn roses were everywhere, and Oliver couldn’t avoid them. There was one on the subway turnstile when he went through it over the weekend. Another in the break room this morning when he went in to grab coffee. And it seemed like every admin and analyst had one in their cubicles.
After lunch, he had an interview on CNBC. Appearances on financial cable shows by Hawthorne Drake employees were a common enough occurrence that there was a conference room in the office dedicated to the video calls, including a bookcase in the background, aesthetically filled with investment tomes and potted plants that were supposedly confidence-inspiring yet calming at the same time. When Oliver arrived in the conference room twenty minutes before his interview, there was a yellow paper rose on the bookshelf.
