Black Dove by Colin McAdam

Author:Colin McAdam [McAdam, Colin]
Language: spa
Format: epub
Publisher: Soho Press

3

OLIVER WASN’T OLIVER.

The nameless, a new animal. That’s what he thought as he went downstairs, put his boots back on, crossed the street. He was Oliver to his dad, Mickey to Murdoch, someone to protect, something to punch, but he wasn’t those things anymore. He was becoming something different, so this was a chance.

Be different to someone new.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“No.”

“Do you want to come in?”

“I want to find him.”

“Okay.”

Suzi got her jacket from the hook near the door. She put a white hat on and Oliver looked at her face really quickly, looked down.

“What kind of a dog is it?”

“He’s big.” How could he explain. “He’s hard to see in the snow.”

Suzi went to the back of the house and Oliver heard voices. A whole world he didn’t know. The place looked different, even smelled different, from when Charlie lived here. When she walked towards him he looked at her longer. Little chin. He suddenly realized he’d been thinking about her a lot. That dream he had about the girl and the Black Dove. Knew what her hand felt like. But of course he didn’t.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if we go back to where I lost him.”

They stepped out and the street was quiet in the snow. If you’re someone new, how do you speak. He’d seen books in used bookstores about how to dress and how to make friends.

“Were you walking him?”

“He’s really strong.” He slapped his shoulders, not to warm up but to remind himself that muscles were coming. “I’m strong too, but he . . . I didn’t have the right leash.”

“What’s his name?”

“Night.”

Suzi thought about calling him. Ni-ight. But she felt selfconscious. Broad daylight. Oliver seemed jumpy. She got a waft of that dissected frog smell again.

“That’s a cool name,” she said. Didn’t remember seeing him with a dog before.

They walked through the snow, not close or far apart but in a way that made him think about exactly how much space was between them. He could see farther down the street than he remembered. Reading those signs used to be impossible.

What should I tell her.

He deliberately kept them on the other side of the street from the store as they passed. Didn’t look towards it. He saw the bench where he had tried to tie Night.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”

“I’m not cold.”

“It’s a snowstorm. Here. Wear my mitts.”

She stood there holding the cuffs open like her mom did for her. When he put his fingers in they touched hers.

That feeling again, like in the bike store. Hot on her fingers and face. She quickly let go.

“They’re small,” he said. Holding them up.

“You’re small. We’re the same height.”

She saw that darkness in him again.

“My hands are bigger.”

“Give them back if you don’t want them,” she said.

She tugged on the mitts and avoided touching his fingers.

“Looks pretty stupid just wearing mitts,” said Oliver.

“You look stupid without a jacket.”

He felt an explosion, like a cannon going off in his chest. Just enough time to ask if he’d ever felt so angry.

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