Oliver Ausman Lives Again

twenty

I try just about everything to pass the time. I take a nap, which is not so much a nap as it is me continuing to freak out, just with my eyes closed. In total, I probably get about five minutes of anything even close to resembling sleep. I shower, and for the first time in my life actually rinse and repeat, drawing out everything to take as long as possible.

The three of us watch a movie, some goofy rom-com that Charlie stops on, most likely just to torment me about the Kat situation. We order dessert from room service, which is so good that it's actually the first thing that manages to take my mind off my upcoming meeting. And finally, finally, after hours of Kat and Charlie having to listen to me worry and watch me pace the room a hundred times, the clock hits twelve.

"Okay," I breathe, standing quietly so I don't wake up Charlie, who's fast asleep on the couch. Kat follows me to the door and I pause to put my shoes on. I'm moving deliberately slow as I tie the laces, my hands shaking. I waited hours to get to this point, and now that it's here, I can't help wishing I had a few more to think it over.

"Don't worry so much." Kat watches me as I fidget and tug at my sleeves. The jacket stays on; I decided that before we even got here. There's only so many bombshells I should drop on a guy in one night.

"I know, I just... There's so much to worry about." I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. Shit, now I probably messed that up, and I need to fix it before I go downstairs. Should I wear something nicer? I didn't even pack anything nice. "I'm showing up in the middle of the night and turning this guy's life upside down. Also, I mean, what if he turns out to be an asshole? What if he thinks I'm an asshole? What if he doesn't believe me, or what if I find out something even worse? Like, what if--"

"Oliver," Kat interrupts, placing her hands on my shoulders so I'm forced to stop moving and focus on her. Our voices are still hushed, bodies standing close in the narrow doorway. For a second, I'm distracted as I realize the intimacy of the situation. "Don't worry so much. We've been over this-- whatever happens, happens."

I nod, take a deep breath, and try not to feel disappointed when she removes her hands.

"You keep asking 'what if,' but don't you think you'll be asking yourself that for the rest of your life if you don't go down there?" She lowers her voice just slightly, impersonating me in a way that's too endearing to be offensive. "What if I had talked to Isaac? What if I met my dad and he wasn't an asshole?" 

I can't stop myself from smiling, as much as I want to sulk. "Alright, alright. I get your point."

"I hope so. It's a good point."

"And you'll watch Charlie for me?"

She rolls her eyes, smirking. "No, I'm gonna leave the door wide open after you leave and take a nap in my room. If you're lucky, no one will kidnap him before you get back. Yes, I'll watch Charlie. He's sleeping, so I don't think I have too much on my plate."

I purse my lips. "Except his sleepwalking and night terrors."

"You're joking," she says, but her head tilts when I don't reply. "You're joking...?"

"Did I mention bedwetting?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Okay, now I know you're joking. And stalling." She opens the door, gesturing for me to leave. "Charlie's been a saint all day, I'm sure I can handle him. If we need you, then..." She holds up a finger, walking to the small entryway table, where a Hilton pad of sticky notes and a pen are set up. 

She writes for a second before peeling off the note and handing it to me. Ten digits stare back at me in all their blue-inked glory. "Send me a text while you're in the elevator so I'll have your number."

"Got it." I nod, trying to play it cool. So it's the first time I've gotten a girls number, so it's Kat's number, no big deal. She's only giving it to me for Charlie's sake. Even so, according to the giddy feeling that's taken over my body, it's a very big deal.

"Now go," she insists, lightly pushing my shoulder to guide me into the hall. "You came all this way for a reason."

"Right," I agree, trying to convince myself. "I'll be back in a bit."

"You got this," she encourages me one last time before raising a hand in goodbye and shutting the door. I repeat the words in my head as I walk to the elevator, get inside, and push the button for the main floor. 

You got this. You got this. You got this.

As much as I want to believe Kat, I'm almost certain I do not have this. I take out my phone and put in her number, sending her a text to be on the lookout for Charlie's "totally real" sleep paralysis episodes.

The doors open, revealing a lobby that looks much different at night. Apart from the young-looking guy who's propping himself up behind the front desk, I'm alone. The city behind the glass doors is still very much awake, cars passing just as slowly as they had in the morning traffic, buildings aglow with lights from inside. Again, I'm reminded that in the grand scheme of things, I'm just one of many. I wish it made what I'm about to do seem any less important, or feel any less daunting.

I turn left and pass the empty fitness room, walking until I'm face to face with another set of glass doors. The indoor pool is still and empty, white lounge chairs stacked against the wall of windows. Manhattan greets me again, but I barely notice it, distracted by the man at the other end of the pool. His back is to me as he mops the brown tile, and I can't make him out at all-- a baseball cap covers his hair, while a navy blue janitor jumpsuit covers just about everything else. 

This is it. No turning back now. 

I reach for the handle and pull-- then push-- but it doesn't work. Of course it's locked. It wouldn't be my life if there wasn't yet another roadblock.

I let out a breath, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart as I ready myself a second time, raise my hand, and knock three times against the glass.

At first, I think he doesn't hear. Then, before I have any more time to prepare myself, he turns and meets my eyes.