Page 89 of Life Out of Order

“That won’t do,” he says. “So much depends on Beck. When are you getting married?”

“Um, it’s not legal here yet. 2014, Alba says.”

“Ah. Well, please accept my premature congratulations. Do you mind knowing in advance?”

“I’m used to it,” I tell him. “I find it reassuring to know I’m on the right path. Do you mind? Knowing things ahead of time?”

“My present is fairly grim, so I take refuge in the past. When I was a child I hated time travel; I just wanted to be like other people.”

“It’s a difficult gift,” I say.

“It has its compensations,” he replies. “This is very nice—to be able to sit here and talk with you. By the way, you don’t have any idea who I am, do you?”

I burst out laughing. “How did you know?”

“You haven’t given yourself away,” he reassures me. “It’s only that I’ve met you before, when you were much older, and I was somewhat younger. I hope you won’t mention this to Alba?”

“Why shouldn’t I? Who are you?”

“Someone who will be important to her, but not for a long while yet. My name is Oliver.”

“Is that your real name?” I immediately regret asking, but he doesn’t seem to take offense.

“It wasn’t, originally, but it is now.” Oliver studies me. “Clare, may I ask a favor?” That’s a question that doesn’t have a good answer, so I wait for him to continue. “Has Beck met Alba’s friend Nadia Kendrick yet?”

This is so unexpected that I laugh, but Oliver doesn’t. “Um, no. Not yet. Why?”

“It’s extremely important that Beck teaches Nadia to code.”

“Nadia? Coding? Are you sure?” As far as I know, Nadia has never expressed any interest in computing. The only computer thing Nadia and Alba care about is Pokémon. “Beck isn’t all that enthusiastic about teaching kids. I’m sure Charisse would do it, if Nadia wants to learn.”

Oliver looks annoyed. “I’m asking you to facilitate something essential. No one will be inconvenienced, and I am not exaggerating when I tell you that lives depend on Beck being the one to teach Nadia. I could ask Alba to ask Beck, but it will be more natural if the request comes from you.”

“All right. I’ll do what I can.” I don’t want to know whose lives he means. Alba’s life? Beck’s?

“Thank you, Clare.” Perhaps Oliver can see that he’s frightened me; he says it softly. Then he stands up, cautiously steadying himself with the piano. “I’m sorry, Clare, but I’m afraid I’ve got to go. Would you mind collecting the music and sliding it under the door of the closet in the music room?”

“Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Oliver.”

He holds out his hand and I hurry to take it—I tread on some of the sheet music—and he vanishes.

As I fold his clothes, gather the music, wash the dishes, empty the ashtray and put everything away, I have a sense of completion: Things have come full circle. It’s strange to know that Alba has her own time traveler waiting for her. Can I trust him? I guess I have to, but I don’t like it. In the evening, after we’ve read a few chapters from Harriet the Spy, as Alba is falling asleep, I ask her if she’s ever met anyone named Oliver, and she grumpily reminds me that there are two boys in her class with that name. I leave it at that.

Wild Thing

Thursday, November 18, 2010 (Alba is 9, Clare is 39, Beck is 34)

Clare: Beck calls just as Alba’s violin lesson is ending. I’m gathering my things when my phone buzzes; I can tell by the way she says my name that Beck is upset.

“Someone slashed my tires.”

“Where are you?”

“At the studio.”

“I’m on my way.”

Richard has tickets to the opera tonight, so I take Alba with me. In the car, Alba asks me what it means, to slash someone’s tires, and after I explain, she’s quiet, no more questions. It’s raining, the highway is slick, and traffic is backed up. When we finally arrive, I see Beck’s silver Jeep under the streetlight, alone in the parking lot, all the tires deflated. Someone climbed the chain-link fence just to slash Beck’s tires.