Chương 13: Chapter 12: Meeting Oliver

All this time, I'd been so focused on surviving my journey, on getting to Oliver's house. Despite every moment alone, every time I was thinking about everything changing in my life over the last few weeks, never… not even once… had I thought about what I would tell him. I had never considered a way to explain myself, to explain… everything. As I sat there on the stool, the guitar in my lap, I simply stared at him. Oliver stared back, a confused look plastered on his face… confused, but not scared.

Even if I couldn't tell what he was thinking, I knew I had to say something, anything to explain myself… but like so many times before now, the words floated up between my fingers, drifting away from my mind. The house was completely silent, save for the clock perched on the wall, ticking slowly, steadily. Though I knew I should break the silence, I didn't want to. Thankfully, Oliver was the first to speak instead.

"So, um…I…see you let yourself in." It brought me a little comfort, knowing he was grasping to find the right words, too.

"... the back door was unlocked." I replied, in a voice barely above a whisper. Oliver nodded, reaching down to the wheels of his chair before rolling down the small ramp to get to the opposite side of the kitchen island.

"Oh, right, I did notice those." I said, nodding in the direction of the ramps, trying to make small talk.

"I wasn't aware they were for you, though." He frowned.

"Remember when I said not to mention the thing everyone notices about me first on the phone?"

"Oh, shoot! Right, right, you did say that…" I shook my head. Of course he must have meant his condition. If I'd remembered the conversation at all, I could have at least tried to be more respectful.

"You look, uh…different from what I expected." He said, the tone in his voice just enough for me to recognize his nervousness. Giving a sheepish grin, I responded softly.

"That's…the thing I didn't want to talk about…" Oliver let out a chuckle, then laughed. The ice seemingly broken for a few moments as he visibly relaxed, I let myself do the same. It was nice to have a reason to laugh again. My gaze drifted back down to my hands as the silence crept up on us once again. Fingers tapping together softly, I thought about what I should be saying. I never was good at small talk.

"... did you clean the place?" Oliver asked. I looked up at him. He was looking around the kitchen. Hopefully he didn't mind, or think I was wondering why the house was so messy.

"Oh, yeah. I got here a few hours ago and…I didn't really know what else to do." Say something else, Tess, don't just respond.

"I, uh…I was thinking if I did some cleaning, I might think of something to say to you…when you got here and uh…make this conversation less awkward…" Who was I kidding? It was going to be awkward, no matter what I did. He smiled, leaning forward in his chair ever so slightly.

"You never were much of a talker, were you?" I simply shook my head, looking back down at my hands.

"Well, it's getting pretty late." Oliver mused, looking through the window and at the setting sun.

"Would you like to stay in the upstairs guest room?" His voice sounded more chipper, almost light and airy. Even if I wasn't much for conversation, I could tell he was doing his best to pretend all of…this…was normal. In truth…it actually felt quite nice, even if the gesture was thinly veiled. Nodding, I gently set the guitar down on the counter.

"That sounds great." I gave a small smile, hopping off the stool as I walked to the stairs. Getting out of the situation in front of me was the first thing on my mind. Any excuse to leave the kitchen was more than welcome. Don't just respond, Tess. Say something else. I stopped after the first few steps. I did need to say something else, anything else.

"Oh, um…" I turned around. Oliver was still in the same spot, looking up at me.

"... is there a shower up there, too?"

"Yeah, yeah." He responded quickly.

"Second door on the right. The guest bedroom is on the left."

"Thanks…and, Oliver?"

"Hm?"

"Please…don't tell anyone I'm here, okay?" I asked. The last thing I wanted was for someone to come and destroy Oliver's house, the way they had with…

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Oliver replied, quickly snapping my thoughts back to the person in front of me.

"... but Tess, you should tell everyone in the group you're safe. We've all been worried sick about you." I nodded. With all of my focus on the journey, I hadn't thought about anyone else in the group for a long while.

"Also," he said, "feel free to use the laptop up there. It doesn't really belong to anyone."

"Okay…and thanks, by the way…for all of this."

"No problem." He smiled, watching me turn and make my way up the stairs. Once I reached the top of the staircase, I took a long, deep breath, feeling the tension melt away. Hopefully our second encounter tomorrow would go more smoothly.

I closed my eyes, sliding my face underneath the warm water from the shower faucet before giving a content sigh. I'd spent several minutes scrubbing shampoo and soap into my fur to erase all the dirt and gunk on me, but now I simply wanted to feel the warmth of the water. The past couple of weeks had been so cold, especially at night. Now, for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was in a comfortable place again.

My body rested against the back of the shower, slowly sliding down until I was flat on my back. It felt wonderful to rest there, covered by the warm, almost cozy water. My thoughts were totally clear and the stress of travel and my own safety melted away with the warm steam. There was nothing I had to think about in particular. Instead, I could just focus on the warm water pattering onto me. My eyes stayed shut, arms above my head, letting the world around me simply disappear for a while.

Only when the water began to grow cold did I finally return to my full senses, gently brushed out of my stupor. Slowly, carefully, I stood. The cold weather didn't bother me much, but I knew I'd been there for far too long. Turning the faucets off until they gave a soft squeak shut, I stood in the tub for a few more moments. The water dripped down my body as I watched the last of my shower disappear down the drain.

After grabbing a towel and drying myself off, I stepped out of the shower, looking at my clothes in a pile on the other side of the room. When I picked up my shirt, I simply stared at it. Well, my clothing must have been one more reason Oliver was giving me a strange look. The attire was dirty, torn, and looked like it would fall apart with even a light breeze. No amount of cleaning or stitching could bring this shirt back to a usable state.

My pants were no better, and everything else I was wearing were little more than scraps. A moment later, I eventually decided to leave it there and deal with it in the morning, after a good night's sleep. The bed, unfortunately, was a thick memory foam, the same type John used. When I tried resting on it, my weight caused me to sink into it. It felt as if I was laying on the box spring under the mattress, surrounded by a soft wall of foam.

With that option out of the question, I decided to place several blankets on the floor next to the bed and sleep on the pile instead. It wasn't the perfect way to sleep, but after resting on snowy forest floors, this makeshift bed was more than enough to help me drift right off into dreamland.

"Promise you won't laugh?" I was standing at the top of the stairs, having woken up in the morning by the sunlight. Going back to take another look at my clothes, it was just as clear as before–they were beyond salvaging. Instead, I looked through the closet in the guest room, finding a plethora of clothes from someone who seemed to love graphic t-shirts and large, baggy pants. After rummaging through all the attire, I found a black shirt with a picture of some cartoon character I didn't recognize.

I was too wide and too short at the same time, unable to cover my lower belly and barely managing to stay over my shoulders. I had to tie a small knot in the front of the neck hole to keep it snug around my neck. Compared to the shirt, however, the pants were far more difficult. None of them had a hole for a tail–obviously–so I had to make due. Given I was borrowing clothing from a friend, or at least someone who had stayed here, I didn't want to start tearing scraps of cloth apart just so I could make them fit.

Instead, I found a pair of shorts only a little too tall for my legs… though they were extremely baggy. I hopped into them, putting them on backward and opening the zipper. It wasn't large enough for my tail, but I did find a belt I could put around the top to keep them from falling off. Certain I looked ridiculous–because I certainly felt ridiculous–I rolled up the legs of the pants. At least now I wouldn't step on the clothing.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. It felt embarrassing, but this was the best I could manage.

"I promise!" Oliver called. With a sigh, I started to step down the stairs.

"So…I had to borrow some clothes…" To his credit, Oliver looked far less surprised to see what I looked like, but I could still feel him staring. I stood on a step halfway down the staircase, the two of us looking at each other. Before I could speak, Oliver asked me something first.

"Do you want some cereal? I mean…can you eat cereal? No…do you…do you want some? If you, uh…"

"Sure!" Having often been the one hoping someone would stop my rambling, I was all too happy to return the favor and cut off any additional awkwardness. Oliver visibly relaxed as I plodded my way down the last of the stairs. Joining him in the kitchen, we silently and mutually agreed to pretend everything was normal. Grabbing two bowls, Oliver began work on the cereal as I looked at the kitchen table. A chair rested on one side as the other remained empty.

Figuring the empty space was for Oliver's chair, I pulled the other chair back a little, hopping up into the seat. I had to stand in it to be at a good height for the table. It was something I'd never thought about… having different size chairs for myself and John. Only now did I realize I'd taken those things for granted… all of the things John and Emily had made specifically for me. Until now, it always felt like a normal thing to have things for my shape and size.

As Oliver came up to the table, I bolstered myself, addressing him as he pushed one of the bowls of cereal to me.

"Thanks." I gave him a small smile.

"Hey, I wanted to thank you for taking me in like this. I didn't really know where else to go."

"Not a problem! I don't usually have friends over. Kind of feels like I live in the middle of nowhere, you know?" He smiled back before the two of us began eating.

"So, how did you get out here?" Oliver asked. I stopped for a moment, looking down at the bowl. It was then I remembered: Oliver hadn't heard about anything, not even why I had left in the first place.

"It's kind of a long story." I said, trying to pass it off as unimportant.

"I have time." He smiled. Apparently he expected to hear about some kind of adventure I'd had or something. He wasn't too far off, either.

"I walked…" I said quietly, simply, knowing he'd want more information than a simple statement.

"Walked?" Reaffirming my answer, Oliver looked into the air, doing some mental calculations. Then he looked back at me.

"That must have taken weeks and…" Pausing, he looked out the window, as if realizing something before he turned to me once more.

"Did you start the last time we talked? On the computer, not your phone." I nodded.

"It, uh…admittedly took way longer than I hoped."

"Why did you leave, though?" For all he knew, I'd simply had a fight with my 'parents' and ran away in a huff…but…

"I'm…not really that hungry anymore." I carefully pushed the bowl away from me, unable to meet his gaze.

"Sorry, we don't have to–" I cut him off.

"It's okay." Sliding off the chair, I pushed it back into place.

"I need to get some stuff together, if that's alright." He frowned slightly, realizing the touchy subject.

"Yeah, go ahead. Sorry again…I won't bring it up if you don't want to talk about it." Releasing a breath I was unaware I was holding, I decided.

"I'll tell you when I'm ready, okay? A…a lot happened…" Finally looking back at him again, I continued, "on a different note, do you have, like…twenty charging cables I could borrow?"

An hour later, all of my music players were scattered in various areas, plugged in and charging. Almost all of them were completely dead, but luckily Oliver had a giant ball of tangled cables. I didn't mind untangling all of it. Putting some music on a small speaker once in his closet, I looked through both it and a drawer full of cables. There were even some random pieces of computer equipment in there.

With music to help me relax, I spent a good amount of time organizing everything into categories, storing them together and where they would best fit. By the time I was done, I was able to get three bins of cables organized into one, and even better, found more than enough cables for my music players. Each time I brought in a new handful of cables, Oliver would watch from the living room, where his computer was. I felt better around him, as if things were more calm, unlike when I felt I was being analyzed by Emily.

Instead, he was simply curious about me, the person. I didn't mind. If anything, having someone around was nice. Even if I did enjoy spending time by myself, after weeks of it, I found myself craving any sort of company. Once all the charging cables were plugged in, I stood, dusting my hands. Oliver was still at his computer as I turned toward him.

"Thanks for letting me use these." I gestured to the cables.

"My music players were all almost entirely dead." He looked up, nodding. Then, after a pause, he tapped his finger to the table, deciding to continue.

"Hey Tess, could I ask you something?" I could feel myself sink slightly. As much as I didn't want to answer questions, I didn't want to be rude, either.

"What's up?" I asked, looking down at the floor with my hands folded together.

"Why do you hang out in the IRC channel so much?" I blinked, looking up at him.

"Hm?" Not the question I was expecting to hear, but Oliver continued.

"I mean, you're really into music, right? And you never seemed too interested in all of the things we talk about on there–programming, hardware, games, all that sort of stuff. Even if you weren't interested, you always hung out there anyway. So…what's up?" Caught off guard, I had to think for a moment before responding.

"I don't know…I've talked to people online in a few places, but I liked everyone there more, I guess?" I said, making my way to the table and hopping onto the seat opposite Oliver. My fingers drummed along the table, trying to articulate what I wanted to say.

"I had some issues with a synthesizer a few years ago. It wasn't connecting to my laptop and I was having trouble getting it to work. When I tried looking online, I found some information, but not anything that would make it work. Then I found something about an IRC channel where a bunch of people were making…a driver for it, I think." I paused, trying to remember.

"I just joined that group and asked about it, and then someone helped me put it together."

"I think I remember that." Oliver nodded.

"It was George that helped you out with it, right?"

"Yeah!" I smiled.

"He was great, showed me how to get it working, all that stuff. Afterwards, he asked me what I was planning to use it for, and I told him I was just learning and messing around with it. Once he asked me to show some of the stuff I'd made, I came back a week later with a bunch of demo tracks I'd put together."

"I think I remember that, actually." Oliver mused, then smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, you started coming back every few days to show us more music you put together."

"You guys were really nice and weren't as, um…" I leaned back, holding my hand to the back of my neck, scratching my head softly as I tried to think of a nice way to say it, "... judgemental?"

"Who was being judgemental?" He asked, head tilted slightly.

"Ugh…" I sighed, slumping slightly, "... well, after finding that group, I started looking at others. Y'know, trying to find one all about music production. It just seemed like the right place to go. I found a few, but every one I joined just wanted to talk about what equipment they had, or who had an expensive setup, or focus heavily on all these technical things I didn't understand or care about." As I'd continued with the story, I felt myself smiling a little more.

These types of questions were much easier to answer. Oliver wasn't trying to coax information out of me; he just walked to talk… and he was easy to talk to.

"But why our group, though?" He asked.

"It seems like you could have found one more aligned with what you were doing, right?"

"Mmm…" I thought for a moment, resuming the strum of my fingers on the table. Oliver's eyes went a bit wide as he looked down at my hand. I pulled it back, tensing instinctively. It must have been the first time he noticed how different our hands were. I remembered that feeling all too well. Quickly composing himself, Oliver cut into the conversation.

"S-Sorry, um…you were saying, about our group? What kept you in this one?" I relaxed a bit, taking a deep breath, but keeping my hands underneath the table.

"I guess… I just liked being able to show you all things I was making without everyone being so critical. I love making music, and sometimes I look for feedback… but most of the time, I'd just make something and want to share it. I didn't want to hear about all the technical things I did wrong or talk about timings or formulas or tempos. I play from my heart. I play what feels right in that moment. I've never really wanted to think about all the technical aspects. It was nice to just show you all what I was doing.

You'd just listen and go along with it. Even if I never really followed along with what you were talking about, it was nice to just 'be in the room'." Oliver crossed his arms, thinking for a moment.

"I'm sure there were groups out there like that, though…"

"Maybe." I nodded.

"I didn't try all that hard to look for more of them. I found this group and I didn't really feel motivated to keep looking for another." He nodded back, continuing to mull it over. We both sat there in silence, but it was far less awkward this time.

"So, do you play any instruments, Oliver?" I asked.

"I…used to?" He offered.

"... kind of. I never really got into it. I played the violin for a bit, but…" As he trailed off, I smiled.

"Oh, cool! I play a lot of instruments, but I've never had one of those before. Why didn't you like it?" He shrugged.

"I never really enjoyed playing it, I guess. I was in orchestra in middle school. It sounded fine when we were all in a big group, but whenever I practiced by myself, it always felt like it was missing something. Since I didn't like how it sounded alone, I just didn't see the point of playing it if it was only going to sound good in a big group." That reason made sense.

"Maybe you were feeling that way because the songs you played solo were designed to be played as a group. Did you ever look into any solo violin songs?"

"Not really." Oliver admitted, shrugging again.

"Maybe I would have liked it if I'd found anything, but by the time I realized why I didn't enjoy it, I just didn't want anything to do with the violin. My parents kept me in the orchestra for a really long time, even after I told them I didn't want to play anymore. When I finally was able to get out, I was terrified of picking up another instrument. I didn't want to be stuck playing something for years, even if I didn't like it. So I just…never tried any other instruments."

"I'm sorry to hear that…" I couldn't imagine my life without playing music…and it sounded like he'd lost that part of his life for all the wrong reasons.

"Yeah…it's fine. I have other things to keep me busy. Music was never a big part of my life, I guess." He looked at his watch, tapping on the desk.

"So, I kind of have to head to work. Will you…be okay here by yourself?" Nodding, I gave Oliver a small smile.

"I'll be fine. I'll tidy up a bit more, if that's okay."

"You don't have to do tha–""No, it's okay, I love doing it. It helps keep me occupied." Oliver chuckled.

"Heh, in that case, knock yourself out. Would you like me to get you anything while I'm out and about? Any food in particular that you like?" I could tell he was trying to be nice, but he was also worried he might come off as someone trying to investigate me.

"Honestly, anything's fine. It feels like I've been eating dog food for the past couple of weeks. Literally anything would be better." He laughed a bit, enough to get me smiling and laughing as well. I felt so much more comfortable with Oliver than I ever did with Emily, or even John, for that matter.

"Oh, one thing though…" I said, realizing something, "... do you still have that violin? Could I play it a bit?"