Chapter 7 #2
“Aria wanted to be there for me,” I say.
Now that I’m starting to talk about it, I can’t stop.
I hadn’t thought it would be like this, but letting everything out after holding it in for so long really is a relief.
“She came by every day. Cooked. Took care of Camila. Did her homework with her. Took care of the calls I simply couldn’t take care of.
She called the funeral home and got everything together while I just sat there on the sofa, not speaking to anyone.
Two weeks after the funeral, an old friend from the minor leagues came over.
Jared. He was on his way to Knox’s birthday party but wanted to stop by beforehand to give me his condolences.
At that second something shot through me; I have no idea what, but it was unreal.
Somehow I just knew that Jared had drugs on him.
I mean, it was Jared, and he always had something when he was on his way to a party.
So I asked, and he gave me some Molly. I was totally gone.
I mean, wow, was I fucked up. We went to Knox’s party.
I took some more, then started drinking on top of it.
I remember that, at some point, all I could see were intense colors, everything was completely distorted, and then everything just went black.
The next day Aria was gone. She was gone, and I had absolutely no idea what had happened before Knox showed me a video someone had sent him. ”
Tears are falling down Gwen’s face. “Of you and me.”
“Of me and you.”
“Wyatt, I had no idea…” Her hand is shaking as she puts her fingers to her lips and looks at me.
Her voice breaks. “I was drunk, too, you know, and I… I have no idea how I should describe this. I was completely outside of myself.” She casts a quick glance at the neighboring table where her mother’s taking an order and pauses.
Eventually Kate smiles at the customer, clicks her pen closed, and hurries back into the kitchen. “It was…”
“Give it a rest, Gwen.” My voice is soft. I didn’t know I was still capable of such a tone.
She shakes her head. Her braids swing from one shoulder to the other before she puts her elbows on the table and buries her head in her hands.
I reach out and stroke the back of her hands. “Hey, give it a rest. It’s not your fault. You didn’t have any idea what was going on.”
Gwen raises her eyes. “But I could have asked. I shouldn’t have just accepted everything!”
“But that’s life, right? Everyone does things that later on they think should have gone differently. Really, Gwen. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can’t tell you what was going on with me that night, but I’m sure that, if it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been someone else.”
Gwen stares at the table. Her lips are swollen from crying. “Maybe that would’ve been better.”
At that moment the door to the diner opens again. The sound of the bell echoes through the room. I look up, and suddenly my entire body freezes and grows numb.
It’s Aria. She takes a small step forward, then stops, staring at me in disbelief. It feels like a million seconds go by. I’m unable to get enough of her, and every one of our shared memories floods my head—until I realize why she hasn’t moved an inch.
My hand is still on top of Gwen’s; my fingers are still stroking her skin.
The realization hits me like an electric shock. I jerk back into the upholstered back so quickly that I knock the breath out of myself.
The last time I had an asthma attack was when I was a kid, but I swear this feels like the same thing.
My ex-girlfriend’s bright green eyes seem to have set my synapses aflame.
I’m ninety-five percent electricity. Four percent panic.
One percent spoiled hope that’s still there because my heart is just too loving.
It’s like our souls are completely naked. We both know it, and we both want to hide it, but we can’t because there are powers that are stronger than us. The power between us is one of them. Always was.
Gwen’s head spins around. She sees Aria, gasps, and jumps up. “Aria, I swear, this was just…”
The sound of Gwen’s voice breaks Aria out of her trance.
She blinks and looks at Gwen for a second before abruptly turning and going to the counter.
Kate is just pushing a cookie into a bag and handing it to a guest. Then she turns to Aria, and I feel like I’m in a movie that’s so bizarre it’s got to be a dream.
Someone wake me up. Someone punch me, please!
“Aria, sweetheart.” Kate’s eyes dart to me, then to her daughter, then back to my ex. “What can I do for you?”
“Coffee,” Aria stammers, her voice breathless and choppy, her cheeks flushed.
That always happened when everything was too much.
“Our delivery didn’t come today. An accident out on the highway, apparently, and, well, it’s Sunday.
Woody’s and Target are closed so…” She takes a deep breath.
“I desperately need coffee. For tomorrow. Breakfast. Guests. I… Coffee.”
Kate isn’t dumb. She knows what’s up. Over and over her eyes drift over Aria’s shoulders to us, and every time I feel smaller and dirtier and just want to sink into the ground and never come back up.
“Of course, sweetie. What do you need? Arabica? Robusta? Decaf?”
“Everything.”
How she says it.
Everything.
Me, too, Aria. Me, too.
Kate goes to get the coffee and comes back with three bags. She smiles sympathetically as she hands them over. “You need anything else, sweetie?”
Aria takes the bags, shakes her head, and mumbles a quick thanks. Her hair is covering her face as she turns and marches past us. Of course she doesn’t look at me again. Of course she doesn’t.
The door closes. How could all the guests just go on sitting at their tables and eating and laughing and not catch on at all to what just happened? I mean, that was sick; it was earth-shattering, but nobody cares.
My eyes meet Kate’s. She makes an effort to seem apologetic because Kate’s cool and has nothing but love for everyone in Aspen, but all the same, her words hit me. “Wyatt, I think it’d be better if you go.”
Because I hurt Aria. Because I hurt her daughter. Because I hurt everyone. Camila was right. I just turn everyone and everything into shit. That’s how I roll.
And so I nod, peel myself out of the little booth by the window, and disappear into the cool evening air, that air that’s so magical—but not for me.