Chapter 5

Oliver slowly walked down the sidewalk in the brisk evening simply because he needed some time to collect himself after a strange week. The cold air felt good blowing against his face, and every time he took a breath, it was cold enough so he could see it. There was a full moon overhead and a clear sky, so that he could make out several constellations in the stars; if it were not for all the street lamps the sky would be completely lit up with them. He remembered looking up at the night sky in Scotland as a small child, when his sense of imagination and innocent wonder was all he needed in order to have a happy life. He recalled his father watching the stars with him on chilly nights such as this one, and remembered him pointing out which bright lights were Mars, Venus, and Mercury, and which were suns that each had their own individual planets floating around them. Half the time he didn't know exactly what his father was talking about, but he still believed every word he said. Oliver looked up to his father, who seemed to know everything about not only the world, but about everything in the universe.

Oliver was 13 years old when he heard the knock on the door that would change his life forever. As he watched his mother answer the door to find two authorities standing there, his heart sank because he felt at that point that something terrible had happened. It turned out his father had been killed in a car accident on his way to work that morning. From that point on, Oliver never had a point in his life where he felt completely safe or secure, all because the airbag in his father's truck failed to open that one morning.

"Ah Dad," he said aloud. "Why'd you have to go?" He wasn't angry, though. He even cracked a thin smile when he thought of his father's kooky sense of humor and how he probably laughed at the whole situation when he got up to heaven. Just thinking about his father made him feel good, because he was one of the only people who ever HAD made him feel good about himself. These days, it wasn't so easy for Oliver. Oliver looked at his watch and saw that he had been walking around for an hour and a half, and figured he should probably get back home to his family. They are, after all, his life, he thought to himself. He was fortunate enough to have his wife and two sons who love him no matter what, and he seemed to forget that from time to time.

Oliver was walking past the auto mechanics shop when he heard a loud clanging noise coming from inside the building followed by a loud yell. "What the--?" Oliver said loudly in surprise. "Hello? Are you all right in there?" He figured there must have been somebody in there, and whatever they were yelling about, it probably wasn't good. There was no answer at first. Oliver yelled again, "Hey! Is there anybody in there? I heard somebody shout!" There still was no answer, but when Oliver put his ear against the stained, blurry windows to the shop, he heard what sounded like someone stumbling around, knocking into things, and audibly cursing every two seconds. Oliver then decided to open the front door and see if whoever was in there needed any help. He opened the door and walked inside, finding himself inside a large garage with a car jacked up in the middle of the room. There was a dim light on in the far corner of the room, and right in front of it, Oliver saw a man sitting on a chair clutching his hand and mumbling to himself. "Hey, are--are you all right?" Oliver asked the man quietly so as not to startle him from behind. Too late; the man jumped, said "Whoa!", and nearly fell off his chair as he looked at Oliver in surprise.

"Who're you?" he asked. The man had a Southern accent, and was still clutching his hand. "Sorry, I was outside your shop and I heard you scream. I just came in to see if you were all right." "Oh..." he said. Then he looked down at his hand. "Yeah, I just, uh, got my hand slammed by the hood of this here car." He winced as he peeked underneath the bandage on his hand. "I reckon it ain't too bad, but I'ma tell you right now, it still hurt REAL bad." He chuckled as he looked back at Oliver. "Sorry, the name's Jimmy. What's yours?" "Oliver Stone, nice to meet you," said Oliver, relieved that he wasn't going to have to perform CPR on anybody that night. "Well, it sounded pretty bad, are you sure you're okay?" asked Oliver, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Oh yeah, ain't the first time that happened to me. Been working on cars since I was a kid, and when you been doing it that long, you're bound to get banged up pretty durn good by these things," Jimmy said as he patted the hood of the car next to him.

"So, uh...you like cars, Oliver?" Jimmy said, probably just trying to make some small-talk. "Well, to be honest, Jimmy, not really. It's just I've sort of had a....bad experience, uh...relating to cars," Oliver said. "Bad experience, huh?" asked Jimmy. "Well, if ya don't mind me inquirin', what happened?" "Well, uh....my...my father was killed in an accident....when I was 13," Oliver told him softly. "Oh. I'm...sorry, Oliver. I...I know how that feels," said Jimmy. "My dad....died when I was young, too." "I'm sorry," said Oliver. There was a brief silence, and then Oliver said with a courteous smile, "Well, I'm glad your hand's alright, Jimmy. I should probably get going, though." "Oh yeah, thanks, I should get finished with this dang car myself. Nice meetin' ya, though." "You too," said Oliver, and he walked out of the garage. As he continued to walk towards Thallow Flats, he felt strangely comforted by his run-in with Jimmy. He felt like someone else understood him, and even if Jimmy hadn't fully understood Oliver's predicament, he at least was good enough to extend some kindness towards him. Maybe his week hadn't turned out so bad after all.