Page 26 of Our Own Light
“Yeah, I thought so, too.”
Oliver noticed Effie sitting on the sofa, kneading the sole of one of her feet with her thumbs, and Floyd went to sit beside her. Even though Oliver knew what was coming, seeing the scene unfold still made his stomach drop like a rickety old coal elevator.
“Let me help,” Floyd said, pulling Effie’s feet on top of his lap, which made Oliver have to turn away for some reason. “I told you not to bother washing clothes today. You spent too many hours on them feet of yours yesterday.”
Oliver’s heart fluttered at the way Floyd said the word “wash,” which sounded more like “warsh” because of his accent. It was so... God, it was fucking adorable. What a peculiar thought that was. But it was so true. Water was wet, and Floyd was adorable. Facts were facts.
“I can’t let Josephine run around in rags,” Effie said. “All her nice clothes were filthy.”
Oliver looked back to see Floyd massaging Effie’s feet.
“So, uhm...” Oliver looked around, eager to focus on something other than the way that the sight of Floyd massaging Effie’s feet was making his neck burn and his ears feel hot. His eyes found Josephine, who was sitting on the floor cross-legged, fiddling with the dress of a very well-loved doll. “How was school, Josephine?”
Before Josephine could answer, Effie cut in.
“Floyd, stop massaging my feet. You’re making poor Oliver uncomfortable.”
Floyd looked like he wanted to protest but released Effie’s feet anyway.
“School was boring,” Josephine answered before looking up at her parents. “Can Mister Oliver play with me?”
Floyd chuckled. “I reckon Mister Oliver is a little old for toys.”
“Well, he certainly looks like a schoolboy with his hair mussed up like that,” Effie teased. “He reminds me of you, Floyd, messing around near the mines when we were kids.”
Oliver knelt down to talk to Josephine. “I’d love to play, but I’m afraid I forgot to bring my own dolly.”
“What about checkers?” Josephine asked.
“I can play checkers,” Oliver agreed.
“Mama, will you be on my team?”
“Josephine is still learning. We only started playing earlier this week,” Effie explained. “Yes, Josephine, I can help you.”
While Josephine scrambled to her feet to find the board and pieces, Floyd pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and then made his way to the burnt orange armchair. Oliver looked over to the bookcase, which was mostly filled with knickknacks and other board games, and saw that they had a chess set, too.
“So, which of you is better at chess?” Oliver asked.
“Effie,” Floyd said without hesitation. “Because she won’t teach me how to play.”
Oliver laughed. “Why’s that?”
“Floyd always picks things up so quickly. If I teach him, I’ll lose my title.”
“Title?” Oliver asked, arching an eyebrow.
“It’s not a real title, but—”
“Effie is the best chess player in the entire town,” Floyd said, his voice filled with unmistakable pride.
It pulled at Oliver’s heart.
“I learned when I was little. I was only a couple of years older than Josephine.”
Josephine plopped the board and pieces onto the table. She and Effie started setting them up. Oliver scooted over to sit across from Effie, sitting back on his heels. Floyd nudged him with his foot from behind.
“Want my chair?”