April & Oliver

April & Oliver Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: April & Oliver Read Online Free PDF
Author: Tess Callahan
Tags: FIC019000
of the room? Not their future selves, surely. They run out again and hop back onto their bikes.
    “I see you still like to read,” he says.
    “We all have our escapes, right? You understand; you’ve got your piano.”
    He shifts uncomfortably, taking a swig of beer. It tastes better than he remembered. He takes another mouthful and passes
     it back to her. Her throat moves as she swallows. The fine hairs framing her face are beginning to dry, waving up, and he
     notices a strand of white amid the black. She hands the bottle back to him, pressing it to his chest, and walks off.
    He glances at the moist impression left on his shirt, shivering as he unfastens the buttons. He finishes the beer alone, goes
     into the living room, and takes off his shoes. She left a blanket and some dry clothes on the sofa, pin-striped boxers and
     a Rangers T-shirt. Oliver does not like the idea of getting into another man’s clothes, this guy’s least of all. They are
     big on him. She has always gone for monstrous men. Oliver doesn’t get it.
    He sleeps restlessly, his body too long for the couch, the trains roaring through his dreams. After midnight the schedule
     slows, and the apartment is quiet for longer intervals.
    At 3 am, he awakens with a start. The room is faintly lit by the glow of the station. April paces in the dark, touching the
     walls, her hands moving like a mime testing imaginary confines. Oliver sits up, meaning to console her, but he feels tranquilized.
     April traces a crack in the wall with her fingertips. Oliver stands groggily, bumping the coffee table, and makes his way
     to her.
    “Listen,” she says. “There’s a baby crying.”
    Oliver squeezes her shoulders. “You need sleep,” he says, leading her to the bedroom. The bed is untouched. He pulls down
     the covers and guides her down, but when he straightens up, so does she.
    Oliver does not think about what he does next. His body moves of its own accord, wanting only to anchor her, to coax her down.
     He lies beside her and drapes his arm over her arm, his leg over her leg, and his chest to her back, his weight securing her.
     Ballast. He has never felt so tired, so thoroughly leaden. He is vaguely aware of the snugness of her body, the light pressure
     against his groin, her breath deepening.
    His mind drifts, yet he is awake. Or nearly so. A train whistles. Above the bed, a photograph clatters against the wall. Oliver
     cannot remember the image inside the frame. Past and future rattle the windows, powerless to enter. Through a fluke of physics,
     he and April are beyond the reaches of space and time. He holds her against him, wanting to restore her, himself, and Buddy
     missing between them.
    “You’re killing me,” she says, though he can’t be sure if he hears it or dreams it. He is falling hard into sleep, his mind
     struggling to find her, remember her; the person he was.
    Oliver awakens alone and disoriented. Birds chirp outside an unfamiliar window, sunlight flooding the sheets. It takes him
     a moment to reconstruct the night.
    In the living room, curtains billow, the window fully open. April sits on the fire escape. Oliver climbs out beside her. A
     light breeze moves her hair. Her eyes look calmer; she might actually have slept. She looks up into the elms, nearly bare.
     “When I first woke up,” she says, “there was a second before I remembered.”
    He nods.
    “Everything’s unhinged,” she says. “I need to do laundry, but it doesn’t make sense. My mail’s piling up in my box. The only
     place that feels normal is work. People ask for drinks and I get them, automatic pilot. But when it’s time to come home, I
     have to get back into Buddy’s car, and I can still smell the aftershave he wore on his last date.”
    Oliver thinks of things he might suggest: counseling, Prozac, a roommate. All ridiculous. “It’ll wear off,” he says. “The
     aftershave.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
    He touches her hand, lacing his
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