The Very Nice Box

Chapter 2

8

Ava watched with a now-familiar cocktail of anticipation and dread (That’s what some would call having a crush, her SHRNK had suggested the night before) as Mat’s car pulled up along the curb the next morning. She patted Brutus on the head and pulled herself together, determined to make conversation this time.

‘Morning,’ Mat said brightly, handing her a coffee as she slid into the passenger seat.

‘You really don’t have to get me coffee,’ Ava said.

‘Have to?’ Mat said. ‘Who said I had to?’

Ava noticed he’d made a cursory effort to clean the inside of his car. There were no textbooks, empty sports drinks, leashes, or basketballs. The only thing that had apparently made the cut was the ornamental disco ball.

‘Why do you have this?’ she said, poking it. It swayed gently. ‘Did you actually purchase this?’ She could not fathom why someone would buy something so tacky and useless.

‘Oh god, no,’ Mat said, laughing. ‘A buddy of mine gave it to me as a sort of gag gift. But it actually does hold some meaning for me now.’

Ava did not want to ask what that meaning was, but she felt obligated. ‘What’s the meaning?’

‘Long story, but it’s basically about personal change,’ Mat said.

She hoped he would not continue. She disliked self- improvement language for its imprecision.

To her relief, he didn’t elaborate on his personal change. For a moment she marveled at the fact that he was her boss. The disco ball swung steadily from the mirror like a metronome. He glanced between the oncoming traffic and his phone. Ava gripped her door handle. She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach. This was a second language for her – containing her discomfort.

‘You okay?’ Mat said.

‘Yes,’ Ava said. ‘Just thinking about the Very Nice Box. Its size is going to make shipping a nightmare.’

‘See, that’s going to be a problem,’ Mat said. He fiddled with the air vents. ‘There’s only one rule in this car, and that’s no talking about work before work. We spend enough time there as it is. Gotta stay present.’

‘Enough time there as it is? You’ve worked at STÄDA for a week.’

‘Exactly,’ Mat said, but he didn’t elaborate.

The sunlight filtered softly into the car. Mat had combed his hair, and the light caught the tips, revealing some product that he hadn’t fully worked in. He smelled woody and clean. He wore a fleece vest over his crisp T-shirt. Ava involuntarily imagined him folding it before shaking the image out of her head.

‘Do you like podcasts?’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘Ever listen to Bitcoin or Bust?’

‘No.’

‘What about Circle Back?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘How about Thirty-Minute Machine?’

Ava lit up. ‘Yes. I love Thirty-Minute Machine,’ she said.

Thirty-Minute Machine was exactly the sort of entertainment Ava sought out. The show was hosted by a retired duo – a robotics engineer and a carpenter – and in each episode a guest pitched a problem that could be solved by a simple machine. The hosts would debate different ways to build the machine, and at the end of the season listeners voted on their favorite solution, which the hosts would then attempt to build, the results of which would be described on the following episode – a true cliffhanger.

‘What episode are you on?’ Ava asked. She was embarrassed by her own eagerness but couldn’t contain it.

‘I’ve been inhaling it,’ Mat said. ‘I’m already on episode seven and I started last week. Could you plug this in for me?’

Ava connected his phone, which had only three per cent battery life. As she scrolled to find the episode, several notifications popped up. One was a reminder from Mat’s calendar: Guys, 8 p.m. Ava averted her eyes, not wanting to snoop. But the second notification was too flashy to ignore. It was from an app called Dope Horoscope, and the notification was silver, purple, and blinking. Today’s gonna be hella dope! it said.

Mat glanced over. ‘Oh yeah, that’s my horoscope app.’ He took the phone back from her. ‘You haven’t even seen tomorrow’s horoscope yet.’ He tapped an arrow, glancing between the screen and the road. She took a breath. Her stomach turned. Mat passed her his phone, which now read: Tomorrow’s gonna be crazy dope! ‘Pretty good, right?’ he said.

‘So insightful,’ Ava said. She braced herself, watching his hands on the wheel. She held tightly to the underside of her seat. Her thoughts cycled through the safety instructions on an airplane – where the flotation device was located, how to pull down on an oxygen mask. She watched him scroll through a list of Thirty-Minute Machine episodes until he landed on seven.

The hosts introduced themselves at the top of the show with their usual caffeinated vigor:

Hey there, machinists! This is your host, Roy Stone –

And I’m Gloria Cruz!

Today on the show we’re talking to a new homeowner from San Diego. But first we wanna give a shoutout to our favorite sponsor, STÄDA. Gloria, how big is your apartment?

Umm…

If it’s anything like mine, it’s small. Like, really small.

Yeah. It’s a shoebox.

Well, have you ever considered Cozy Nesting Tables?

Cozy whats?

Cozy Nesting Tables! They’re STÄDA’s latest ingenious answer to the question of small spaces. Designed to stack and store, they are the most useful surfaces known to humankind.

Says who?

Says the New York Times! And I quote: ‘The Cozy Nesting Tables are the most useful surfaces known to humankind.’

Dang.

I know.

STÄDA. Simple furniture for your complicated life.

‘Great ad,’ Mat said.

‘Great product,’ Ava said.

‘Hi, Roy, hi, Gloria, I’m Gabe, long-time listener, first-time caller. I’m hoping you can help me out. My wife and I just bought our first house and we have a ton of projects to take care of. I drive a sedan, and I’m getting really tired of tying a million knots just to carry a sheet of plywood home from the hardware store. I wish I had a special roof rack where I could just snap in a four-by-eight sheet of plywood without the hassle. Thanks!’

First of all, Gabe, Gloria said, congrats on the new house. This sounds pretty simple, but of course there are a lot of safety considerations. This should be fun. All right, machinists, let’s help Gabe realize his home improvement dreams. You know what time it is. Let’s! Build! This! Machine!

Just as the hosts were discussing whether the plywood should rest parallel to the roof or slope slightly downward toward the hood for aerodynamics, a car cut in front of them from the left. Mat leaned on the horn, jolting Ava. ‘No!’ she heard herself yell. She saw the sharp light, felt the hair on her arms prick up, heard the crunch, felt the edge of the seatbelt cut against her neck. Her mother’s voice, the smell of cinnamon, the horn’s tinny blare in her ears, the screech of tires on asphalt, and the horrible, rhythmic whirl of a car flipping over, then predictably the memory looped back to the beginning. The current of light – what was that? She tried to pull herself out of the panic, but it was a black hole she’d stepped into.

‘Whoa. You okay?’ Mat was glancing between Ava and the road. They had cut into the fast lane, unscathed. ‘Sorry about that. Guy came out of nowhere, almost clipped my mirror.’

‘Yes – sorry.’ A sharp pain erupted behind her eye, right on cue. She knew it would linger there well into the afternoon.

‘Did the coffee spill on you?’ Mat said. He reached across her to open the glove compartment.

‘Please,’ Ava said. ‘Please just keep your hands on the wheel. I’m fine.’

His energy flattened.

‘Sorry,’ she said, softening. ‘It’s just… I was in a little car accident once, and sometimes I just get nervous when I’m not the one behind the wheel.’

Mat perked up immediately. ‘It’s okay, I totally get it,’ he said, waving in her direction as if to wave her worry away. ‘I should lay off the horn anyway.’

He tapped Rewind, backing up the episode by thirty seconds. It was as if the entire morning had rewound thirty seconds. They settled back into an almost comfortable silence as the hosts discussed different ways to adhere plastic to metal.

Ava was determined to feel okay about riding in the passenger seat. She was tense and her head throbbed, but she could at least fake an ease she didn’t feel, and that was progress. Her SHRNK had suggested she could use the experience of driving with Mat as exposure therapy. You can’t get through life without riding in the passenger seat sometimes, her SHRNK said. Who could you be if you actually welcomed the rides?

She tried to focus on this thought as Mat pulled into the parking lot of the Simple Tower. I welcome these rides, she tried. I look forward to these rides.