Hale and Olivia

Chapter 2

Hale opened a tall refrigerator in the corner of the kitchen and took out pre-marinated meat and already cooked rice in a bowl. He had probably eaten the same thing the day before and saved the leftovers. Meanwhile, Olivia settled behind the dining counter and watched as he stood by the stove, frying the meat in a pan.

"So, tell me, what provoked them today?" he inquired.

Olivia secretly hoped that today's topic would remain closed for good, but Hale clearly had different plans. "I needed... I borrowed..." she mumbled.

"Huh?" he looked at her.

"I borrowed money from Charlotte," she blurted out.

"Borrowed, like this sweater?" he asked.

She nodded.

"So, where did you get it from? And this time, tell the truth," he remarked, still facing away from the student.

Nervously, Olivia pulled up one sleeve of the mentioned clothing and confessed: "I found it in the classroom locker."

"Tomorrow, return it there discreetly, otherwise someone might find out and start another argument, maybe even a fight. I might find something for you in my sister's things. You can wear that if you want."

"Does your sister live here with you?"

"No, but she sometimes stays overnight. She lives outside the city and commutes to work. If she works late at the office, it's better for her to stay with me. The couch can be unfolded, that's where you'll sleep tonight," he explained.

Olivia looked at the navy blue couch. It looked comfortable, and she would definitely sleep well on it. Her eyes also fell on the shelf next to it, filled with books. She got up from her chair and approached it.

"Ah! David Hale, a great author!" she exclaimed.

A sudden thud came from the kitchen. Hale dropped his fork. "Uh... you think so?" he asked.

"Yes, his crime novels are truly unpredictable," she pondered. "Is it just a coincidence that his last name is Hale? Just like your first name?" she smiled and turned to finally face him.

Hale observed her with a motionless face and slightly pale cheeks. Olivia glanced at the collection of detective stories and then back at him. "Wait..." 

With a raised eyebrow, he seemed to challenge her to say what she was thinking.

"Are you related or..." she didn't dare to finish, as it seemed too unreal to her.

He turned away: "I write under a pseudonym. David was my late grandfather's name."

"Oh my goodness," she whispered. "So... it makes sense. You teach literature, you must have an affinity for writing and reading, but... why do you keep it a secret?"

He shrugged. "I was afraid of the reaction. I never expected the nonsense I come up with to be so successful, and yet..." As he spoke, he opened the cupboard above his head and rattled the plates. "Dinner is ready. Come and eat."

Without objections, she sat back in her place. Before placing a full plate of warm, homemade food in front of her, he asked: "Do you want to watch TV while eating?"

She shook her head. "No, it's forbidden at home. I don't miss it."

He paused, but quickly nodded and placed the dinner on the table. With a deep sigh filled with unspoken worries, he slumped into the chair opposite her. "Enjoy your meal."

Olivia happily started eating. She decided not to pay much attention to the painful swelling on her lip. After the first bite, she blissfully exclaimed: "It's delicious."