Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [138]
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid. Like you said, I don’t even really know her.”
“Yeah, but you like her just the same. Right?”
“I like her as a person,” Milo said. “I liked her enough to try to find you and help her out. But you said it yourself: You can’t get to know someone through a videotape.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, you should’ve.”
The two sat quietly for a few minutes, a silent truce as Milo considered all that had been said and assumed that Emma was doing the same. She was right that he liked Freckles, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to admit this to Emma. Falling for a girl whom he had only seen on a videotape was possibly more bizarre than singing “99 Luftballons” in a bar in Maryland while Eugene and Emma danced and threatened to charge the stage.
And then Milo realized that he could admit his fondness for Freckles, that this was Emma, keeper of all of his secrets, and that the old habits of cover and concealment and misdirection were not required in her presence. She already knew all about his strangeness and had accepted him for who he was. Did he really think that admitting to a crush on a woman whom he had never really met would be a deal breaker for Emma? And even if it might be, he should admit to it anyway, because this was the one time in his life when he did not need to withhold or lie about a thing, and he wasn’t about to mess it up. But before he could admit to anything, Emma spoke.
“Why do you like working with old people?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Just answer it. Why do you like working with your clients?”
“I don’t know,” Milo said, suddenly wondering himself. “I just get along with them, I guess. I think I’m able to sympathize with their situations. I don’t know. I think I just like them.”
“They don’t hide much from you, do they?” Emma asked.
“What?”
“The old people. Like the Viagra man, or the lady who has you rake her carpet. They don’t keep a lot of secrets from you. Do they?”
“I don’t know. I guess not. Why?”
“I’ve got this old lady living in the apartment underneath me, and she doesn’t play any games either. She hangs her bras and underwear out on the line and leaves her teeth out during the day sometimes and tells me that I look sad when no one else ever will. She even carries her adult diapers from the car to her apartment without ever trying to hide them. She’s too old, I guess, to fool around. She must figure that she is who she is and that’s not going to change. I bet that’s why you like them. The old people. They don’t keep many secrets. They show you who they really are.”
“Who knows? Maybe Mr. Friedman killed the neighborhood cats when he was a kid. Maybe Edith cheated on her dead husband. Maybe Mrs. Bedford’s husband is buried in her herb garden underneath the mint. How can you ever know what someone is hiding?”
“You can’t, but I bet that with old people, you can come pretty close, assuming you’re not spending time with cat killers or ax murderers.”
“So what? What’s your point?”
“That’s why you like Cassidy. I mean, she’s probably pretty, but she doesn’t have any secrets either. She didn’t intend on telling you about me and whatever other secrets she shared, but she did. She’s got nothing to hide. That’s why you like her.”
“You’re unbelievable, Emma,” Milo said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person more certain of herself than you. You’re right. I like Freckles. Cassidy, I mean. And I’d probably never admit it to anyone but you. But it has nothing to do with all that bullshit about secrets. She’s a pretty girl with a great smile and she seems smart and kind and a little wounded, and I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress. That’s all it is. Okay?”
“If you say so.”
Milo sighed.