Twice Shy

by Sally Malcolm

  Parents and kids had started to filter in, including Rory and the others from the after-school program. Still no sign of Ollie, which was testing but not unprecedented; he sometimes got stuck at work, and traffic would be slow-moving today because of the weather. Even Joel had chosen to drive to school instead of risking his bike in the fog.

  He checked his phone, although there was no reason Ollie would message him personally to tell him he was running late. Not when he’d done such a good job of shutting him down. He regretted that, now, wished he’d at least encouraged a friendship. His last message to Ollie stared coldly back at him: You’re welcome.

  “Mr. Morgan?” He looked up to find Rory standing in front of the table, gazing at him with solemn dark eyes. Ollie had said the kid looked like his sister, but never having known her Joel tried to pick out something of Ollie in the boy’s features: the straight nose, perhaps, and the wide mouth that looked like it ought to be smiling. But Rory’s face was grave.

  “Hey,” Joel said. “You want some ice-cream, Rory?”

  He shook his head. “Is Ollie here?”

  Shit. Joel smiled, not wanting to give the kid any reason to worry. “You know I think—” Movement near the door caught his eye and he glanced over just as Ollie rushed in, looking tired and harried, Luis on one hip. Joel’s relief made him smile. “I think I see him right there.”

  Rory turned, grinning as Ollie hurried over.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late.” That was directed somewhere between Joel and Rory, but Ollie crouched down, still holding Luis, and grabbed Rory in a one-armed hug. “Sorry, buddy, I got held up.” He buried his face briefly in Rory’s hair. “You okay?”

  Rory nodded. “Can I have an ice-cream now?”

  “Yeah, hang on. Give me a second.”

  “But I want—”

  “I said wait.” He stood up, thin lipped, and set Luis on his feet. Joel was startled because he’d never heard Ollie snap at Rory before. Not that there was anything wrong with it—all parents snapped at their kids occasionally—he’d just never heard that tone from Ollie. Rory went silent and reached out to grab Luis’s hand, big eyes round.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here to set up.” Ollie was talking to Joel now, pulling his wallet out of his jeans. “Let me get the kids settled and I’ll come back there and help.”

  “Thanks, but there’s no rush. Most people haven’t gotten here yet.” It was difficult to see properly in the dim lighting, but something about Ollie felt…off. “Everything okay?”

  The brief nod, tight lips, and averted gaze told Joel that everything was decidedly not okay. Crap. Was this because of their date/not-a-date and Joel’s cowardly backing off afterward? Had he hurt Ollie? The thought distressed him.

  Not knowing what to say, he was glad when a gaggle of sixth-graders showed up at the table and he could busy himself scooping out ice-cream into cups, sending them giggling down the line of tables to where Alyssa supervised as they piled gory jelly candies, ghostly marshmallows and gruesome green syrup onto their ice-cream. When they were gone, Rory and Luis appeared at the table with Ollie. Joel served both the boys a scoop and gave Ollie his two bucks change.

  As he passed over the money, their hands briefly touched. Ollie’s fingers felt like ice, shaking as he shoved the bills into his wallet. Frowning, Joel said nothing. But something was definitely wrong, something more than their non-date.

  “I’m gonna help Mr. Morgan now,” Ollie told Rory. “Don’t eat too much candy. Remember how you felt last night.”

  “I won’t,” Rory said, and headed over to Alyssa with glee.

  Ollie brought Luis behind the stall and sat him down on an unopened box of paper cups to eat his ice-cream, sans syrup and candies.

  For the next half hour, Joel and Ollie worked steadily and there wasn’t time or opportunity to speak much as everyone arrived at once and lined up for their ice-cream. But Ollie wasn’t his usual self, he looked tense and distracted and like he’d rather be anywhere but helping at this event.

  Someone—Jackie’s ‘other half’ probably—had set up speakers with a spooky playlist on loop and they were already on their third rendition of Ghostbusters. Most of the kids were in the middle of the hall, racing about or ‘dancing’ to the music, their parents gathered in knots around the edge chatting and laughing. With the holiday season fast approaching, the mood was relaxed and optimistic.

  For everyone but Ollie, apparently. A couple times Joel noticed him squeezing the back of his neck, closing his eyes, and he wondered whether he was unwell. It would be like him to show up even if he was feeling like crap. Joel would have suggested he head home, except that Rory was having a great time and he figured Ollie wouldn’t want to drag him away early. The kid was currently loading up a second ice-cream cup with sugary crap, his gleeful smile a nice contrast to his earlier anxiety. Ollie had initially refused him more ice-cream but had quickly given in to Rory’s pestering. And that was as unlike him as the rest of his behavior this evening. He just hadn’t had the stomach for a fight, it seemed, too distracted by whatever dark thoughts were bothering him.

  “Do you have a headache?” Joel said eventually, when the rush had abated and they were starting to tidy up.

  Ollie blinked at him. “What?”

  “You look like you have a headache,” Joel said, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the sticky table. “Or maybe it’s just this music.”

  Ollie laughed faintly and even that half-laugh sparkled lightly through Joel’s chest. But it didn’t last long. “Kinda, actually,” Ollie said and rubbed at his neck again.

  Joel took a step closer, resisting the concerned impulse to touch Ollie’s arm. “You need something for it? I’ve got pain killers in the staff room.”

  “I’m fine.” Ollie opened his eyes. They looked very dark in the low lighting. Troubled. “I just need to get home and go to bed.”

  Joel found himself snared by that hopeless miserable look. “Long day?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Anything I can—?”

  A distraught wail rose over the music and they both looked over to find Alyssa shepherding Rory towards them, the front of his shirt an alarming green and his face a not dissimilar color. “Oh God,” Ollie groaned. “Now what?”

  “I’m sorry, Ollie,” Alyssa said. “I think he ate too much syrup.”

  And he’d brought it all back up again by the looks of things.

  “For God’s sake,” Ollie barked. “What did I tell you, Rory? I told you not to eat too much of that crap.”

  Rory’s miserable snivels got louder. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “You didn’t mean to? Well, what the hell am I supposed to do now? What the hell do you think—? I don’t even have your—Fuck. Fuck. I can’t—”

  “Ollie.” Joel touched his arm, but Ollie snatched it away and turned around, pressing both hands over his mouth. Something had happened; this was not the Ollie Snow Joel knew.

  Rory stared with wide miserable eyes, Alyssa looked concerned, and Luis started howling.

  “Okay,” Joel said, scooping Luis up. “Alyssa, can you help Rory out? There’re spare clothes in the lost property box in the school office. You know where it is?”

  “Sure.” She glanced at Ollie’s tense back and mouthed, Is he okay?

  Joel shook his head. Ollie hadn’t moved, still standing rigid with his hands pressed over his mouth. But his shoulders were shaking.

  “Give me Luis,” Alyssa said, with a significant look at Ollie—you sort him out.

  Relieved, Joel handed Luis over and watched for a moment as Alyssa, carrying Luis, led a sniveling Rory toward the bathrooms. Joel turned back to Ollie. “Right.” He said it gently but brooked no argument. “This way.”

  With one hand on Ollie’s shoulder he guided him out of the hall’s side door and along the empty corridor to his classroom, flicking on the light as he entered. As soon as the door closed behind them, Ollie let out a horrible distressed sound. “Shit,” he said
, wiping at his face. “Shit. Fucking shit.”

  Still holding his shoulder, Joel moved him to his desk and made him sit in his chair. Ollie sank like a puppet with cut strings, folding over his knees and burying his face in his hands. His dark curls fell forward and his back shook. He was crying.

  Not knowing what else to do, Joel crouched in front of him. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

  But Ollie shook his head and in a muffled voice said, “I swore at Rory. I shouted at him.”

  “He’s okay.”

  Ollie jerked upright suddenly. “Where is he? I have to—”

  “Alyssa’s cleaning him up. He’s fine.”

  “He’s not fine! I need to apologize. I have to—”

  “Ollie, stop.” Joel put both hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place. “Rory’s okay. But you need to take a moment to pull yourself together.” Ollie stared at him, ashen and tear-streaked in the bright light. Utterly freaked out. His hands shook where they lay in his lap and Joel took them in both his own. They felt cold and stiff. “What happened?” he said, keeping his voice even. “What’s wrong?”

  “I, uh—” Ollie pulled one hand free and swiped at his eyes. “I was in a car accident.”

  “What?” His hands tightened on Ollie’s. “When? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He sure as hell didn’t look fine. “But I totaled my fucking car. It’s not even drivable. The mechanic says it’ll cost a couple thousand bucks to fix and I don’t have—” He pressed his free hand over his mouth. Joel held the other between both his own. “I can’t afford anything like that. And without a car I can’t get to work and if I lose my job— And I can’t tell Rory what happened. He can’t know. And, shit, why did I swear at him? Oh God, he’s sick and I shouted at him.” He collapsed forward again, over Joel’s hands, sobbing. “I can’t do it. They were right. I can’t do this. I can’t do it.”

  “Listen, hey.” Helplessly, Joel stroked his hand lightly over the back of Ollie’s head, his dark hair thick and soft beneath his palm. To see him like this, miserable and broken, made Joel’s chest ache. He squeezed Ollie’s cold fingers, kept stroking his head. “It’s going to be okay, we’ll figure everything out. The important thing is that everyone’s okay. What—” Hell, he hoped everyone was okay. “What happened?”

  Ollie shook his head, the movement brushing his hair against Joel’s hand. “I’m so fucking stupid. I just didn’t see. It was foggy and I got distracted thinking about—” He choked off with a sob and Joel squeezed his hand. Ollie squeezed back, his strong fingers clamping hard around Joel’s. “I could have killed someone.”

  “Hey,” Joel said softly, tipping Ollie’s chin up so he could see him. “You didn’t.”

  “But I could have. She stopped because there was a deer in the road, and I just went straight into the back of her. What if—?” He shuddered and Joel felt the tremor through his fingers. “What if she’d had kids in the back seat?”

  “There’s no point in playing that game.” Joel reached for the box of Kleenex he kept on his desk and held it out.

  Ollie grabbed a couple and wiped his nose and eyes. “Thanks. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You’re really shaken up.”

  “Pretty pathetic, huh? It was only a fender bender, for Christ’s sake.” He sucked in a wobbly breath. “I should be able to handle this.”

  “Shock’s a totally normal reaction.” Especially, Joel thought, when your sister died in a road traffic accident. “Hell, you shouldn’t even be here. You should be at home. Or—Have you seen a doctor?”

  “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “You said you have a headache. Did you hit your head?”

  “Only on the headrest, but I’m fine.” He wiped his face again, still looking miserable. “I need to find Rory. Shit”—he half jerked to his feet—“where’s Luis?”

  “He’s fine. They’re both with Alyssa.” Joel eased him back down. “Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry? Is that a joke?”

  “Okay, listen.” Joel took both Ollie’s hands in his again, making him meet his eyes. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to fetch Rory and Luis and I’m going to drive you all home. Then we’ll talk about whether you need to see a doctor tonight.”

  Ollie looked at him, eyes wide in his ashen face. “You don’t need to—”

  “I want to, Ollie.” There was meaning in those words and he let Ollie see it, hoped he could feel it through their joined hands: an apology for his former cowardice, a promise of friendship. “Let me help you, okay?”

  For a moment Ollie was silent, assessing whatever he saw in Joel’s eyes. Then he said, “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

  Joel’s heart lifted. In that moment, he felt needed and purposeful in a way that satisfied him more deeply than he dared express.

  And much more than he knew was wise.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ollie still felt shaken when he climbed out of Joel’s car—a fancy electric one—outside his building. He’d not been happy driving without the kids’ car seats, but they were still in his own car, which was now with the mechanic, and it had only been a couple minutes. Joel had driven extremely carefully. And they were fine. They were all fine.

  Well, he had a pounding headache and was furious with himself for causing the accident. Worse, he felt dreadful about the way he’d spoken to Rory, humiliated and ashamed by his loss of control. When he opened the back passenger-door, so Rory could slide out, Ollie snagged him in a bear hug. But nothing could erase the memory of snapping at him earlier—swearing at him. He was the worst parent. The worst, worst, worst.

  “Come on,” Joel said from behind them. He was holding Luis and didn’t seem to mind the way Luis’s sticky fingers knotted into his jacket. “Show me the way.”

  “You don’t need to come in,” Ollie said, standing up and holding Rory’s hand. He ran a mental inventory of the state of the apartment. “But thanks for the ride.”

  Joel watched him with a steady gaze, adjusted Luis on his hip and said, “I’d like to come in, if it’s okay with you?”

  Maybe this was an intervention after the way Ollie had broken down at school. Maybe he had to prove he was fit to look after the kids. Maybe he deserved to fail. “Okay,” he said, too ashamed to argue, and led the way to his door. It opened into the small downstairs entrance hall where they hung their coats, and to stairs leading up to his second-floor apartment.

  Rory would usually bound up the stairs ahead of them, but he was subdued this evening. A combination of Ollie’s unforgivable behavior and still feeling unwell, Ollie supposed. The weight of his culpability sat like a stone in his chest, and he kept flashing back to the horrible words he’d said, and the way Rory’s face had crumpled.

  “Come on,” he said, gripping his little hand. “Let’s get you into the bath and then into your PJs.”

  Behind him, he heard Joel taking off his coat and the sound of the front door shutting. Ollie flicked lights on when he got upstairs, relieved that the living room was tidyish. With three people living in a one-bed apartment, it was necessary to put everything away once you were done with it. Including the sofa bed that Ollie hoped to be collapsing onto as soon as the kids were bathed and asleep.

  He turned as Joel reached the top of the steps, still carrying Luis. Joel looked tall and out of place in Ollie’s small apartment, as if he didn’t quite fit. The lamplight made his glossy dark hair gleam and his smile looked kind. “This is cozy,” he said, which was a polite euphemism for ‘small’.

  “I need to get the kids into the bath,” Ollie said. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  Joel bent to set Luis on his feet, but as soon as he’d put him down Luis’s little arms went up demanding to be carried again. Joel huffed a laugh and picked him back up. “Can I help?”

  “No.” As kind as Joel was, there was no way Ollie was allowing a virtual stranger to help him bathe his kids. “Thanks.”

  “H
ow about I fix us some dinner while you do that, then?”

  “What?” Had he heard right?

  “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Well, unless you’d rather I leave, I’ll fix us both something to eat. And we can talk things over.”

  “What things?” Ollie’s head was pounding, an ache radiating across his ribs—from the seatbelt, maybe?—and he didn’t understand why Joel thought they had anything to talk over. He couldn’t mean their non-date, could he?

  “How you’ll, um, get to work…” Joel glanced at Rory, who still held Ollie’s hand, his head resting against his thigh. “And other things.”

  Ollie scratched a hand through his hair, huffing out a laugh. “That’s really above and beyond your role as teacher…”

  “I’m not here as a teacher.” He sounded offended. “I’m here— That is, I hope I’m here as a friend.”

  “Are you?” Ollie really didn’t know after the cold shoulder he’d been given the last couple of weeks.

  And it was Joel’s turn to look awkward as he shifted Luis on his hip. “That’s one of the things we could talk about, maybe?”

  “Ollie?” Rory tugged on his hand. “Ollie, I feel sick.”

  Sweeping him up, Ollie carried him into the bathroom and just reached the toilet in time. Poor kid. How much of that syrup had he eaten? Once it was over and Rory had stopped crying, Ollie stripped him out of his lost-property clothes while he ran a shallow bath in the tub.

  Out in the living room, he could hear Joel talking to Luis. A low stream of nonsense babble, a comforting sound that seeped into him and relaxed his muscles and mind. It unlocked his self-recrimination enough that, when he helped Rory into the frothy bath, he could say, “I’m really sorry I lost my temper at school, Rory. It was bad of me. I’m sorry.”