Page 21 of Our Own Light
Even though Floyd had previously informed Oliver that he had once been a breaker boy, he hadn’t shared more about his past otherwise. Despite Oliver having inquired about Floyd’s upbringing a few times, Floyd had stayed stubbornly tight-lipped. His secrecy was becoming a little upsetting. After all, friends should be open with each other, shouldn’t they? Sure, Oliver had never really had a proper friend before, so he wasn’t exactly certain how close the two of them should be by now, but...
He really wanted them to be close. He had never felt this kind of kinship, this kind of pull, toward another person before.
Craving to know more about Floyd’s life, Oliver thought he’d try pushing Floyd a little. Not by making him uncomfortable, of course, but by reminding Floyd that they could trust one another.
While they were both resting up against the rocky black wall, taking a break from shoveling, Oliver turned to Floyd and said, “So, tell me more about the time you spent as a breaker boy.”
Floyd let out a long breath.
“I can’t talk about that part of my life with you.”
“Why not?” Oliver asked. “I thought we were friends. You can trust me.”
“Ain’t about trust.”
“What is it, then?”
“Just can’t.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you can.”
Floyd only responded with one word. “Ollie.”
And the way Floyd said it—stern yet pleading—it made Oliver want to crumple in on himself.
“Sorry,” Oliver said, self-loathing twisting inside of him. God, why was he so nosey?
For the rest of the workday, Oliver continued to mentally pummel himself for being the world’s biggest bastard. After their coal car was weighed, Floyd and Oliver parted ways. While Floyd hadn’t seemed upset in the end, Oliver continued to feel horrible.
Halfway home, Oliver spotted Roy, who lived one house over. He hurried to catch him, hoping he could take his mind off his earlier blunder somehow.
“Hi, Roy,” Oliver said, slightly out of breath. “How are you?”
“Not bad. Just looking forward to relaxing a little.”
“What would you say to playing some pool?”
Roy sucked on his teeth, thinking it over, and then said, “I’ll need to tell my wife first, but I reckon it’ll be fine.”
“Great!”
While Roy left to talk to his wife, Oliver hovered outside near the picket fence. Not everyone’s houses had fences, but Roy’s had a nice one. He had probably put it up himself. Gripping one of the posts, Oliver tried to wiggle it back and forth. It seemed sturdy. Oliver couldn’t help but be impressed.
Not much later, Roy flung open a window and stuck his head through the opening.
“Gotta clean myself up first, but I can meet you there,” he hollered.
“Perfect!”
Oliver looked at his clothes. He really was filthy. While he was itching to play pool to take his mind off how badly he had messed up with Floyd, he knew he should probably bathe first, too.
Over the next half hour, Oliver took a sponge bath in the basin, and then he chose some clothes to wear to the pool hall. Even though he enjoyed looking nice, he found he wasn’t as keen on wearing one of his better suits this time. Not like he had been when he had met up with Floyd. After choosing a simple beige suit and brown fedora, Oliver threw everything on and rushed over to the pool hall. Roy was already there practicing.
“Sorry I took so long,” Oliver said.
“Not a problem.” Roy nodded toward the table. “I’ll re-rack the balls while you find a cue.”
Oliver left to find a cue. Resting next to the others on the wall, Oliver spotted the one that Floyd had used last time. It was the only one with a blue wrap, rather than red. He chose it immediately.