Every Little Thing by Chad Pelley Page A

Allie in the car, buckling in.
    â€œWell, no, just that we’re not, like...we’ve only just met—”
    â€œWhat are you, five years old or something? Do yourself a favour and win her over, Colin. It can’t be that hard. Like I said, her last boyfriend was a dimwit, dull as beige. And her bright as yellow. She clearly doesn’t expect much from a guy. And that dipshit boyfriend she had left her when trying to console her about her mother’s cancer got old and boring. Like a proper dickhead would. Now go on, kid, she’s had the car running for two minutes now. I’m choking on her exhaust here, and you’re blocking off my table. Go!”
    â€œMy name’s Cohen, by the way. Not Colin.”
    â€œWhatever. You know who I’m talking to, don’t you?”
    He picked a knife back up off the table and started whittling a fresh block of wood into another lighthouse.
    COHEN GOT IN the car, and she apologized.
    â€œPeople around here sort of buy things off Lee, like his little carvings he does, to help him out. He’s tried stained glass too. He doesn’t need need the money, but he sort of does. Half the time, people don’t display what they buy off of him. In their houses, I mean. He pretends not to notice when he visits them.”
    She was talking with her head down, afraid Lee was a lip-reader. “I pretty much give Lee a bunch of photos to sell every month. There’s a lot of sales to tourists in the summer, and he needs the money more than I do. But the rest of those photos in the trunk are for The Craft Shoppe.”
    She lifted her head back up, looked at Lee, and put it back down, fastening her seatbelt. “Anyway, if Lee offers to buy lunch,” she said, rooting a hand around in her jeans pocket, “tell him it’s on you.” She stuck a twenty and a ten-dollar bill in his hand. “That’s for my and Lee’s lunch. He’d never let me pay, but he’ll take your money no problem.” She laughed about that, staring back at Lee in the rear-view mirror as she drove towards The Craft Shoppe.
    â€œHe’s an interesting guy. Sweet and witty. He, ah…He was also a prisoner of war. For years . In the Philippines. Can you imagine? Years. Starving and wasting away like a stray cat. Malaria and everything. Watching your friends die or be killed. Besides all that, when it was over, and he came home from the war, he couldn’t find his parents. His father’s job had him moving around a lot by necessity. He says he figures they assumed he died, but I assume they were never that close. That there was some tension there. A story I’ll never know. I mean, sure, it wasn’t like these days where you can find people online, but still. You’d try hard enough, and you’d find them, wouldn’t you? No one loses their son . After the war, Lee ended up here, in Grayton of all places, even though he’s from The States.”
    She’d finished her story and looked at him like he should be impressed by it. A slow nod, pressing her chin into her chest. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. He looked out his window, following the sagging U of power lines between telephone poles as Allie drove down the street. She was so intent on the road when she drove, so alert and paranoid, that he wanted to yell boo .
    â€œThere’s a fantastic hike up by Bird Rock. Wanna do that, once I drop these photos off? Before lunch?”
    â€œYeah. Sure.”
    â€œThere’s petrels and razorbills out there. And those cute little dovekies. And I saw a cormorant out there once too.”
    â€œMust have been a double-crested—”
    â€œAren’t you impressed?”
    He looked at her, waiting for an explanation.
    â€œI mean, aren’t you impressed that I like birds so much?”
    His face folded into sarcastic grin. “Cormorants, hey?Why are women so impressed by big birds?”
    â€œGrow