“Do you want me to keep reading?” Ollie asked after a moment.
He smiled tentatively. It was genuine.
I thought about that smile, and Ollie noticed.
“What?” he asked.
“I was just thinking about how grief makes people do crazy things.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re smiling at me,” I said to him.
Ollie said nothing.
“The worst is probably over though, yes?” I asked him. “Soon, I will say things, and you will hate me after I say them.”
He opened his mouth, frustrated, but then said nothing. I had been goading him extra in those days. He fell for this ploy, his resolve gone completely, but I no longer fostered any fear towards Ollie. If I died, I would be with Chess.
“Did you want me to read or not?” he finally asked, though he was gentle about it.
“Yes,” I said monotonously. “Thank you.”
Ali entered. She made a noise of disgust, to which I just said,
“Your glare no longer penetrates my concern.”
Ollie had to bite back a smile that only I saw.
She looked at Ollie.
“Shouldn’t you be helping us gather supplies for our journey back?”
“No,” Ollie said, shrugging.
“We’re going in a week. We don’t have much time to recuperate.”
“You made it here dragging me,” Ollie said coolly. “Anything we make out with will be better than that.”
Ollie looked back at me for approval, but I didn’t look at him. Ali just left.
“It makes me sad that you are leaving,” I admitted with that same, painful honesty.
Ollie’s eyes tightened.
“I know.”
“You are a welcome distraction.”
“I know,” he said again.
I both cursed Ollie and loved him at the same time, so close were the binds of appreciation and loathing. I didn’t know what to think of him again, and I knew there was little to be had either way – he was going to leave whether I thought about it or not. He eyed me with deep concern; his new look when he beheld me, and read on,
“The day the world ended was November 11, 2038.”
I smiled.
“What are those things?”
Ali, who had reemerged in the doorway, sneered.
“Those are months, you –”
“Shut up, Ali,” Ollie said quietly.
He turned back to me, and she left. I was pleased. He cleared his throat a little and said,
“Months, they’re called.” He paused. “They sort of separate the days…And the number is the year. You can number the year to make sure you know which one it is.”