Collision (7 page)

“I never said Oliver and I were strangers.”

“Still. You don’t even have an automobile here, which says that you don’t like to go out.”

She started to walk to the other end of the table, but I held out my stick and stuck it into her chest and pushed her back down.

“Go on.”

“I’ve got it,” she announced.

“What?”

“You come from a very wealthy family and you’ve grown up having everything you’ve ever wanted. Now here you are, only weeks away from turning twenty-three, and you’ve realized that you have no clue who you are. You’ve run off to find yourself and to try to figure out what exactly gives your life meaning. You’re searching, Cabot. You don’t know what for, but you’re hoping you’ll find it.”

“Not bad.”

“Am I correct?”

“Pretty close. How’d you guess?”

“I see people like you all the time at home—overindulged young adults showing up to do something good for the world so they can feel better about themselves. They want to believe that there’s more to life than what kind of automobile they drive or what labels are on their clothes. They show up, experience life-changing events, believe they’ve changed, and vow to come back and do some more. Ninety-five percent of them never come back.”

“That doesn’t sound very hopeful.”

“I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you. Under the right circumstances, you just might end up being one of the five percent.”

“Maybe you’ll be right.”

She started for the stairs.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“I’m tired. I’m going to hit the sack, and you probably want to be left alone. I’ve taken up a lot of your time.”

“Oh.”

“
Oriti
. That means ‘good-bye.’”

“
Oriti
.”

She walked up the stairs but had only made it halfway to the first landing before I caught up with her.

“Do you want to eat breakfast together in the morning?” I asked.

“Do
you
want to? I thought you were here to escape people.”

“There’s no sense in each of us sitting in our respective kitchens, less than fifty yards apart, eating alone.”

“I’m not a very good cook,” she admitted with a shrug.

“I’ll cook. I’m sure I can throw something together.”

“Okay. Then I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

“I run at six thirty, so I won’t be ready to eat until around eight or later. Is that too late for you?”

“No, not at all. How long do you run?”

“An hour or so.”

“I’m a runner myself.”

“Really? You’re welcome to join me.”

“That would be great.”

“All right, just meet me in the roundabout at six thirty.”

“Round-a-what?”

“Where they place the automobiles.”

“The driveway. I’ll be there.”

“
Oriti. Nindi ma ber.
I’m telling you to sleep well.”

“Orty and need my bar to you too.”

“
Nindi ma ber
.”

“Yes,” I said with a laugh. “You sleep well too.”

We parted ways and headed to our respective temporary homes for the night. I’d never looked more forward to going for a run at the crack of dawn.

C H A P T E R

6

I was in the driveway warming up when Kei walked out to join me.

“
Ichiyo nade?
” she greeted.

“Itch my what?”

“
Ichiyo nade?
It means, ‘How did you wake?’”

“Oh. I woke great. Thanks.”

“Splendid. You don’t mind hills, do you?”

“No, love them.” It wasn’t a total lie. I’d run in a canyon in LA a few times with my trainer, but paparazzi found us and put an end to running outside altogether.

“Splendid. That’s all they have around here.”

“Do you see many people when you’re out?” I asked.

“Not a soul. I’m more of the cross-country sort, but we can drive down to a track if you’d prefer.”

“No. Cross-country sounds perfect.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” she asked.

“You lead.”

Thirty minutes later, I was hyperventilating and we’d slowed to walking. Apparently her idea of cross-country and my idea of cross-country were countries apart.

“Sorry,” I panted, too tired to even be embarrassed. “You weren’t lying when you said there were hills.”

“Maybe I should have elaborated. Why don’t we walk over here and sit down.”

“No, no. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s okay. Have a look-see. There’s a bench over there, waiting on us to enjoy it.”

Still out of breath, I only nodded.

She led the way to the bench. I tried to follow without it being obvious that I was walking on legs made of Jell-o. “Honestly, I thought I was in much better shape than this.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“I mostly run on treadmills back home. I never realized there would be such a difference, but, boy, there’s…wow. Look at this view.”

“I know. It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”

“Where are we?”

“This is a piece of private land that butts up to Oliver’s.”

“They aren’t going to come chase us off, are they?”

“No. We’re fine.”

I fell onto the bench. “Good. There’s no way I could run from anyone right now. They’d catch me for sure.”

“As long as you’re with me, you’re fine.”

“Why’s that?”

“It belongs to Oliver’s mother, Millie.”

“Is there a house on it?”

“No. No buildings of any sort.”

“Did she put the bench out here?” I asked, giving a pat to the empty space between us.

“No. I did. I love the view from this spot. I come here all the time when I’m visiting. It’s the perfect place to reflect, pray, or just think about things. It’s beautiful when the sun rises.”

“I’d like to see it. What time does it happen?”

“You would need to arrive very early in the morning. I only catch them on rare occasions.”

“Then it sounds like we need to have a campout.”

She leaned away and looked me over, possibly trying to check my sanity level. “A campout? You can’t be serious.”

“What? Have you never camped out before?”

“I often campout. Not here, of course, but back home.”

“Are you chicken?”

“Most certainly not.”

“You sure about that?”

She leaned back toward me. “Extremely. I’ve never backed down from a challenge, and I’m not about to start with such a miniscule one.”

“Good. Then it looks like we’ll be camping out.”

“When?”

“Tonight’s as good a night as any.”

“Tonight? I don’t normally spend the night alone with men I’ve only just met a couple of days before.”

“What else do we have to do?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Sadly, I have nothing else to do. At the moment, my life is as pitiful as yours.”

“Great. Then it’s a date.”

“A date?”

“Not a date date. You know, it’s two people who aren’t dating hanging out and spending the night together in a completely non-intimate sort of way. It’s really more of a fieldtrip or an outing. Yeah. It’s an outing.”

“You could have just said it wasn’t a date. I didn’t need an oral dissertation.”

“Sorry.”

“For someone who’s supposed to be getting away from people, you aren’t doing a proper job of it.”

“I’m doing a great job.”

“And how is that?”

“I’m not around people. I’m around
a
person
.”

“They’re identical.”

“Not even close.”

“Anyway, we better get back. You promised me breakfast, and I’ve got work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

“Cleaning day.”

“Oh. That’s right. I wanted to make sure that everything gets picked up before the maid comes. What time will she be here?”

“What time do you want me to be there?”

I practically choked. “Wait. What do you mean what time do I want
you
there?”

“To clean.”

“You’re the maid?”

“Yes. Did you not know that?”

“No.”

“I’m working for Oliver this summer, trying to raise funds for the mission.”

“You clean houses for a living?”

“No, I don’t clean houses for a living. I’m cleaning Oliver’s house for some extra income.”

“You clean the entire house? All by yourself?”

“Yes. It’s much easier doing housework here than at home. At least I’ve got washers and dryers and vacuums and other items. It won’t take me any time to get your pad done, maybe two or three hours, unless, of course, you’re an utter pig.”

Agitated, I stood and started walking back the way we’d come. “You’re not cleaning my place.”

“Why not?” she asked, running up behind me.

“Because I don’t feel right about it.”

“What’s the difference between me doing it and someone else?”

“There’s a big difference.”

“Why?”

“Because if you do it, it’s you doing it.”

“Oh, rubbish. That made no sense at all.”

“I don’t care.”

I stopped walking, looked at her for a second, and then started walking again. “We’re sort of friends, and I don’t want you cleaning up after me.”

“I don’t understand why all of this is so monumental. I don’t take issue with it. It doesn’t make me any less of a person.”

“I don’t care. You’re still not cleaning my place.”

“Do you want to me hire someone else? If so, you’re going to have to pay for them, because Oliver won’t.”

“I can do it myself. It’s not a huge space or anything.”

“Cabot, you’re on holiday. This is supposed to be relaxing for you, and cleaning is not relaxing. Please just let me do it.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“I don’t care. I can do it. I’m a big boy.”

“Just the fact that you said, ‘I’m a big boy,’ makes it sound as if you’re four years of age.”

“I don’t care.”

“This is the most asinine conversation I’ve ever been involved in. Will you just let me do my job and quit being a pain in the arse?”

“No. End of discussion.”

“Fine.” She picked up her pace to a full jog.

“Thank you.”

She was several yards ahead before I picked up my pace. “Okay. I’m going to need your help at first,” I said, running up beside her.

“I’ll be glad to help.”

“It’s just this once, and then I’m doing it all on my own.”

“Whatever you say.”

We finished our run in silence—partly because I was bothered by the fact that Kei might be picking up after me, and partly because I was too tired to run and talk at the same time. Once we arrived home, we went our separate ways so we could shower and change clothes.

By the time she made it downstairs, I’d boiled water for tea and finished making breakfast.

We ate the meal quickly and in silence. It wasn’t until we were putting our dishes in the dishwasher that she talked.

“Why is it that you’re allowed to be upset that I’ll be cleaning your place but I can’t be upset that you’re cooking?”

“It’s different.”

“How’s that?”

“I like cooking.”

“And I like cleaning.”

“How is that even possible?”

“I find it relaxing.”

“Are you smoking crack?”

“I’m not smoking anything, let alone crack.”

“Who in their right mind likes to clean?”

“Well, I suppose I’m not in my right mind, because I really do enjoy it.”

“I don’t care. You’re still not cleaning my place.”

“Can we just call a truce and drop the whole thing? There are bigger issues in the world we could be talking about. We don’t need to waste our breath over who’s going to be cleaning your dirty undergarments.”

“You definitely aren’t doing my laundry.”

“I understand! Let’s move on.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Speaking of which, go get your laundry and let’s begin.”