Page 15 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper

Oliver

Twenty-five years ago

The first time he saw her was at her seventh birthday party.

While all the other kids were in practical cotton T-shirts and sweatpants—optimized for movement and the inevitable mess of ice cream—Chloe appeared from behind the freezer cases like a fairy who had made stops at the zoo and the clown supply store on her way to the Ice Creamery.

She wore a black-and-white-striped knit hat with zebra ears, a forest-green blouse, a long, fluffy, multilayered blue tulle skirt that would put most tutus to shame, and underneath, rainbow polka-dot leggings and candy-red tap shoes.

She was impractical yet magical, and her irrepressible smile sealed the deal. Oliver might have only been seven, but he already knew he would tame lions and fight dragons for this girl. Or rob another clown supply store, if that’s what Chloe wanted.

The other kids liked her, but didn’t quite know what to do with her. But Oliver did. He would love her, in every way that he could.

One time—in second grade—she stood in front of the class during sharing time and told everyone about her neighbor’s black cat, who had given birth to another litter of orange kittens (it had also done so the previous year).

Mark, the leader of the “popular” kids, yelled that that was impossible, and that Chloe was a liar.

That weekend, Oliver biked all the way across town to the park where Mark and his friends played, and Oliver pushed him off the swings. Mark and his gang subsequently beat the crap out of Oliver later, but it was for Chloe, and it was worth it. (Also, the black cat really did have orange kittens.)

They did their homework at each other’s houses, even though they didn’t live in the same neighborhood.

They spent every holiday together—Halloween in joint costumes, Thanksgiving and Kansas Gingerbread Christmas and New Year’s Day mochi and ozoni soup at Chloe’s grandmother’s farmhouse.

They never went to bed without calling each other first to say good night.

By the time they reached sixth grade and actually attended the same middle school, they’d become “Clover,” so devoted to each other that no one used their individual names anymore.

In the summers, they would crawl out of Chloe’s bedroom window on the second story and lie down on the little roof above the porch so that the crickets could sing to them until they were drowsy.

In autumn, when the University of Kansas students returned to campus, Oliver joined Chloe in her favorite activity—being at the Ice Creamery to greet everyone.

The college kids knew them well and would always say, “Hi, Clover. What’s the best flavor you’ve got today? ”

Oliver thought it would always be the two of them, together, inseparable.