Sparks the Matchmaker

CHAPTER 2

Ollie pushed his car right past a sign that stated his car would be booted or towed if he left it unattended in the gym parking lot, ignoring the warning. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t expect it to happen as much as he simply didn’t care. Only one thing mattered at that moment, and she was gone for good.

“Thanks, man,” Ollie said.

“Sparks.”

“What?”

“That’s my name. Sparks. And I mean it. You really shouldn’t leave your car here. It will get booted. I promise.”

“You don’t know that. I gotta go. Thanks again.”

“Yeah, I do know it. And don’t worry. Things will work out in the end.”

“Excuse me?” Ollie had already started to walk away, but the little guy’s comment caught his attention and he turned back around. “What will be okay?”

“Your situation. It’ll all be good in the end.”

Ollie squinted slightly as he pondered what Sparks was saying, wondering if he actually knew what he was talking about. Curious or not, Ollie wanted nothing more than a moment alone to sort through his thoughts, so he turned on his heel and made his way back to the sidewalk.

“I’m serious. You will get booted,” Sparks yelled one last time as Ollie quietly walked away.

Ollie ignored him. He walked without turning around, lifting his right hand as if to say I read ya loud and clear. Now leave me alone.

He walked toward home. He was in no hurry to deal with reality. Reality could go home with Anne to her apartment and stay there.

Every step he took brought him a little closer to his roommates at Tall House, where he knew they’d want him to regurgitate the details of his day.

Every step also carried him a little farther away from the pain of her rejection. Ollie turned his head and looked back toward her apartment building one last time, but before his eyes could focus on it, he noticed he was being followed. The guy in the Yankees hat again. “What do you want, Bomber?”

“Bomber? Oh, I get it— because the Yankees are also called the Bronx Bombers.”

“I kinda want to be left alone right now, Bomber.”

“That’s not why I’m here. Maybe I happen to be going the same direction as you.”

“Maybe I wanna know why. Are you following me?”

“Sort of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean; sort of?”

“It means I just happen to be going this way, and you just happen to be going this way too.”

“Then where exactly are you going?”

“Tall House.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not coming home with me.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re not.”

“Look, Oliver, you asked for it. I’m just here to help.”

Ollie froze. There’s ten inches of height between us. I could squash this guy without batting an eye. Besides, he had nothing left to lose anyway. But this guy knows my name. He turned on him. “It’s Ollie. Not Oliver. And how do you know my name?”

“I know a lot more about you than your name, Oliver.”

Ollie wasn’t sure what to do or say. “Anyway like I said, it’s Ollie. Now leave me alone.”

“I’m just here to help.”

Ollie suddenly had a lot of questions, but he kept to the basics. “And how are you gonna do that? I don’t even know you. If you keep following me, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Hit me? No you won’t. You’re not that kinda person.”

Ollie’s mouth tightened. He closed his eyes, as if being unable to see him would make him disappear. I’m done with this. His brain had already gone into overload from all the stress and shock, and this wasn’t helping. He kept his eyes closed long enough to turn around and pretend the little limpy guy wasn’t there, and then continued on his way hoping he wouldn’t be followed.

After a few more blocks he peeked back to see if he was still being followed. Nobody. Ollie breathed a sigh of relief. I guess it’s just one of those days. It’s not like his parents hadn’t warned him. Some things you’ve gotta experience, I guess.

Tall House was the nickname everyone gave to the old structure on the corner of University Avenue and 7th. Ollie lived there with his three roommates, Keith, Richie, and D. Every house on Ollie’s street was known by a nickname rather than a street address. The two story house Ollie lived in wasn’t any taller than the other houses on the block, it was given that nickname because Ollie stood 6 foot 2 inches tall—and he was shorter than Keith and Richie, and especially D. The four of them were often found hanging out together, so “The Tall Guys’ House” was eventually shortened to “Tall House.”

It used to be called Pinkie before they moved in, even though in all fairness it was really more of a salmon color. The new nickname was a welcomed change.

He walked up the front steps and put his hand on the doorknob. Please don’t let my roommates be home. He wanted to slip up the stairs and get to his room unmolested so he could continue to stay in his own little miserable world, at least for the time being. He turned the knob and opened the door.

“Well?” Richie yelled, hurdling the couch. He was right in Ollie’s face. “Where’s Anne? She in the car? Let’s see the ring!”

“Not here,” Ollie said simply.

“Did she like it?” Richie asked.

Ollie didn’t respond or even look up, but continued to make his way toward the stairs.

“No?!” Richie said with even more emotion. “I told you. Man, I told you that you shoulda gone with platinum. Gold is so old fashioned. You shoulda let me come with you to pick it out. You shoulda gone to buy your ring at that place over by the mall. Keith, what’s that place called?”

“Richie—” Keith said.

“Anyway, give us the scoop. What’d she say?” Richie said, trying not to acknowledge that someone was trying to interrupt him.

“Richie!” Keith said again, this time with a little less patience.

“Okay, okay,” Richie said. “I did warn him, though. Platinum.”

Ollie, Keith, and Richie had grown up together. They’d always gone to the same school, known the same people, and taken all the same classes. But while Keith and Ollie usually found themselves out on the baseball field trying to solve the mystery of which was the better ball player, Richie was a different story. If Keith and Ollie weren’t swinging the bat together, they were usually secluded somewhere talking about the opposite sex. Richie, though, couldn’t throw a ball and had never gotten a date to prom. Since Keith and Richie had grown up as next-door neighbors, mostly it was geographical convenience that granted Richie passage into Ollie and Keith’s social circle.

When Ollie, Keith and Richie had left home for college, they’d left together. Now they shared a house while attending the same university. The fourth open spot at Tall House had to be filled by someone else, and D fit right in, both in personality and in height. But since Ollie had been spending so much of his time at Anne’s place, it meant that he and D hardly knew each other.

Ollie knew Richie plenty well though, and he knew he didn’t have the strength to try to explain things to him right now. He walked past Richie, bumping him a little as he did because of how close he was standing to him, and made his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

He sat for a second on the chair in front of his computer desk. He clicked the mouse a few times in the hope of finding something on the screen to occupy his mind, but it hadn’t been very long since he’d last checked Facebook, so there wasn’t anything new. He sat and stared at the computer’s desktop, but that only hurt him more— the image was a photo of him with Anne.

He stood up, still looking straight into Anne’s eyes on his computer screen, and acted without his mind paying attention to what the rest of his body was doing. When his brain finally registered what his hands had done he realized that his fist had just blasted through the wall next to his computer screen. As he stared at his right arm, which was buried a few inches into the drywall, he noticed that he felt slightly better now that some of the pain from his mind was in his hand. Then he did the same thing with his left hand, receiving the same satisfaction.

As he stood there staring at his left hand now buried in the wall, wondering how many holes he was going to have to make before Anne was completely erased from his mind, he felt something smack him above his right ear.

“Pick it up,” Keith said. “If you have to hit something, I can think of something better.”

Ollie looked down at the floor to see what it was that had hit him. His baseball mitt was lying near his feet. “Not now. I’m not in the mood.”

“If we don’t go now, you’ll never be able to go because sooner or later you’re going to punch a stud and break your hand. Come on. I may even let you win again.”

“I beat you fair and square last time, Keith.”

“You got lucky.” Keith picked the mitt up off the floor and slapped it into Ollie’s chest. “I was three runs ahead of you going into the last inning. You got lucky and hit the scoreboard.”

“Luck? There was nothing lucky about it. It’s all part of the strategy. Get behind, go for broke; aim for the scoreboard.”

“Yeah, well maybe we should change that rule. No more of this ‘the scoreboard is worth five’ stuff.”

“Keith, you’re just jealous because you always hit everything to center field back home, and the scoreboard here is by the foul pole in left. You loved that rule when it was convenient for you.”

“Words. Are you ready to lose, now cheater?”

“Lose, schmooze.”

“So you don’t deny that you cheat. I just wanted to get that straight.”

“Shut up, Keith.”