Page 87 of The Side Road
The following Monday morning, the sky was bright and clear, and the air had an invigorating chill. After a strong coffee, which warmed Oliver from the inside out, he set to work decorating the garage. Around the walls, he strung rows of fairy lights. He lit two dozen candles and placed them on every available surface.
Mia arrived mid-morning. Wearing long black boots, tights and a short dress, her pink cardigan covered her shoulders. Her delicate features stood out against the rough, mechanical backdrop of the garage, and her tenderness, set against the hard edge of his tools and bikes, was alluring. Somehow, she suited the space. How could he possibly fail?
He switched on the music. As he took her in his arms, his hands trembled. When she gave him a concerned glance, he said, ‘Anticipation. I’ve been wanting to dance with you since the first time I saw you.’
They moved slowly, swaying back and forth to the rhythm. His fingers traced the curve of her hips. Under her breath, she counted the beats. A methodical habit.
‘Relax,’ he said, ‘I’ve got you.’ When she rested her head on his shoulder, a comfortable feeling filled his chest. He never wanted to let her go and he thought this might last forever.
‘Oliver, you can dance – for real. I would never have picked you for a dancer. I guess that’s my bad for typecasting mechanics. I’m falling in love with this garage.’ She looked athim through her golden fringe. Everything about her was adorable.
‘That’s my girl. I’ve thought about sleeping in here.’
‘You want to renovate the garage?’
‘No. I just want to sleep here.’
‘You could call it a be-rage. Like a bedroom garage. Makes it sound fancy.’
‘The only fancy thing here is you.’
She hummed and sang the chorus to ‘Fade Into You’. When the music finished, he danced her across the yard and into the house, then out of her clothes and into bed. After sex, they rested and Mia slept. When she woke, he made a fist and knocked on her chest.
‘What is it now?’ she asked, smiling.
‘I’m knocking on the door to your heart,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m falling in love.’
Her expression softened.
‘I think we should go on a date with Tash,’ Oliver continued. ‘Are you ready for that?’
Commitment was on their doorstep. He needed her to open up and let it inside.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m ready.’ A ripple ran through her, like a spring unwinding.
‘Great. Because the school holidays start soon.’
Later that eveningin the kitchen, Oliver watched Tash uncoil a length of rope. Holding it between her hands, she moved to the window and studied something in the backyard. Then she looked down at the rope, and once more back at the tree. Pulling the rope tightly, she snapped it.
‘Honey, what are you doing?’ Oliver asked.
‘Buttons needs a haircut.’
Several times, Tash had attempted to shave Buttons. Every time she went near the rabbit with the clippers, he objected, kicking her with his hind legs and lashing out with his claws. Buttons in flight and fight mode was fierce. He was fighting for his fur, and Tash was no match for his survival instincts. Bite marks and scratches covered her hands and forearms.
When Oliver stepped in to help, Buttons bit his finger. The pain had made Oliver’s eyes water. He called the vet, hoping they would take charge and sedate the animal. But this was not a service they offered. They suggested a grooming salon. There was one in town, but they didn’t do rabbits. It would have been so much easier to get a dog.
Tash put the rope down, picked up her phone and showed her father a video. ‘Can you make this?’ she asked.
Oliver studied the YouTube video. It showed an Angora rabbit attached to a wire frame; the animal’s legs were held in place by slip knots. Its inability to move allowed the owner to run the clippers over its fur.
‘It looks medieval,’ Oliver said.
‘No animals were harmed,’ Mary said.
Oliver spun around.
Mary had a disconcerting habit of silently entering rooms, which Oliver found unsettling. Lately, she had been spending more time at the parsonage. Her weekend sleepovers had started in May, every Saturday night. Last week, she had taken over the spare room, leaving a pair of pyjamas and a knitted dog on the bed. The dog looked a bit like a German shepherd. The following morning, she had asked for potato pancakes for breakfast.
