Chapter 10
As the jet cut through the sky, Aida had quick calls with both Trista and Yumi before knocking back a sleeping pill. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—spend
the night replaying the image of Graham kissing another woman. It felt like her head had barely grazed the pillow when she
was awakened by the gentle tap of the flight attendant on the plane’s bedroom door.
Rubbing her eyes, she moved to the window. Boston’s skyline unfurled beneath her, a city waking up to greet her. She had considered
having Yumi accompany her to confront Graham, but as she stepped off the plane and onto Boston soil, she texted her friend
a change of plans. She was going solo. Four years with Graham weighed on her mind. Despite his betrayal, he deserved to face
her in what was bound to be an awkward, uncomfortable moment.
She let herself in the front door. Music was playing, louder than she normally would have set it. Beneath it, she could make
out voices drifting from the kitchen—Graham’s, and a woman’s.
Erin.
Fuck. Aida couldn’t believe that after confronting him yesterday, Graham would so callously continue forward, as though calling
the wedding off meant nothing. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. Clearly, Erin had spent the night.
She stood in the entry for a moment, her eyes closed, willing her breath to calm. At least now she knew that she had made the right decision. This thought bolstered her and, steeling herself, she went to the kitchen.
When she reached the doorway, her heart immediately tightened at the sight before her: Erin—whom she had once believed was
a dear friend—perched on the bar, the very embodiment of allure with sun-kissed skin and auburn hair flowing past her shoulders.
The oversize denim shirt she wore, one of Graham’s, was lazily buttoned, teasingly hinting at the curve of her breasts beneath.
Seeing Graham, shirtless and in boxer shorts by the stove, spatula in hand with eggs sizzling, deepened the stabbing sensation
in Aida’s chest.
“Making me breakfast, I see,” Aida said, her voice laced with a toxic sweetness that even she found chilling.
Graham looked up, eyes widening in alarm, spatula frozen midair. Erin shifted her gaze, meeting Aida’s eyes in a fleeting
moment before darting away. A quick flush colored her cheeks as she self-consciously tugged at the shirt.
“Aida . . . what are you doing here?” Graham stammered.
“Oh, I think I’m the one who should be asking you what you are doing here,” she said, leaning against the wall, every ounce of her trying to exude control despite the tempest
inside. “I’d love to know what this story is.” She gestured vaguely at Erin.
Erin slid off the bar, clutching Graham’s shirt around her. “I’m going to go—”
“Don’t mind me,” Aida interrupted her. “We’re old pals, aren’t we, Erin? No need for formalities. Remember all the pinkie
swears we made to be friends forever? Of course you do. But really, I have to admit, while it might have made sense if you
wanted to borrow some clothes, I’m not so sure our friendship will survive you borrowing my fiancé.”
Erin paused, her eyes avoiding Aida’s, her fingers twisting the shirt’s fabric as if seeking something solid to hold on to.
“Aida, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out. This is . . . It’s complicated.”
Graham put the spatula down, his gaze falling to the floor. “Aida, I can explain—”
“Explain? Oh wait, I’m the storyteller. I can do the explaining. You’re standing here, cooking breakfast for someone who is
not me—for my oldest friend—who you just spent the night fucking, in the home we live in together. Do I have that right?”
The room fell silent, the eggs on the stove sizzling filling the void.
“See, the funny thing is,” Aida continued, “I had really hoped, perhaps, maybe, you would have a good explanation for a one-time
lapse. But thank you, Graham, for clarifying where I stand. No, not thank you. Fuck you both for that clarification. Now,
please, feel free to continue. I’ll be doing a bit of packing before the movers arrive. I shouldn’t be in your way long.”
Not waiting for a response, she left the kitchen and went to the bedroom, where the sheets were a tumbled mess and Erin’s
clothes were strewn all over the floor. She held back the flood of emotions threatening to break through and began to organize
her jewelry and clothes to make it easier when the movers arrived.
Graham appeared at the door. He swept past her, picked up Erin’s belongings, and left without saying anything. A few minutes
later, Aida heard the front door open and shut, followed by Graham making his way up the stairs once more.
“Don’t do this, Aida,” Graham said from the doorway. He had donned the shirt Erin had been wearing.
She backed away. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t leave me,” he said.
She couldn’t believe he was even attempting to keep her there. “Why on earth would I stay?”
“Because I love . . .”
She interrupted him with a rueful laugh. “Oh, that’s rich.” She picked up the rumpled sheet and flung it into the air across
the bed. “Was this a declaration of your undying love?”
“You were the one that left me,” he blurted out. “We’re supposed to be getting married in a couple months and you jet off to Italy . . .”
Aida stared at him. “I went there to help pay for the wedding! You encouraged me! My god. I was trying to hold my own in this relationship, to make sure I could chip in after I lost my
job. I sure as hell didn’t consider sleeping with someone else.”
“You were planning this all along, weren’t you?” He tried to turn this around on her. “How did you manage to find movers in
just one day?”
Aida was furious. “You don’t get to make this my fault. As for the movers, since I’m no longer helping to pay for a wedding,
I thought paying a higher last-minute price was a worthwhile use of the money.” This wasn’t true—MODA had made all the arrangements,
but that was a strange explanation, and it didn’t have the bite Aida wanted it to have.
Graham sat on the edge of the bed, put his head in his hands, and began to cry. She watched him break down and part of Aida
ached to comfort him, but self-preservation held her back. The ringing doorbell was her escape, and she walked away, leaving
the remnants of their relationship behind.
A moving truck was parked outside, a feat in busy Somerville. She had no idea how MODA had managed the truck’s parking permit,
but there they were, two young men standing on the step with boxes and packing tape in hand. She led them inside and set them
to work in her office.
As the movers did their job, the air inside the house grew heavier.
Each box they packed seemed to seal away another chapter of her life with Graham, and each item moved another memory.
Aida directed them with a quiet efficiency, her focus unwavering.
Most of the furniture was Graham’s, but there was the occasional piece or two that she had brought with her when she moved in.
But most of the art and all the books were hers.
She helped mark the items that would go with her to Rome and those that would go into storage.
Mercifully, Graham hid himself away in his office while they worked.
When the movers were nearly finished, she texted Yumi and then went to say her last goodbye to Graham.
The door to the study was cracked open. Through the gap, Aida could see he was staring out the window toward the newly budding
garden. She pushed the door open but didn’t go inside.
“I’m leaving in a few minutes,” she said to his back. “I sent you a Venmo to help with the mortgage and utilities for this
month.” They hadn’t yet combined their bank accounts, and for that, Aida counted her lucky stars. He certainly didn’t deserve
the money, but unlike him, she wasn’t about to brush off her obligations.
His response was hardly audible. “I’m sorry, Aida.”
“Me too,” she said, pushing past the threat of tears and back toward resolve by thinking of Erin sitting on the kitchen counter
that morning.
He turned toward her and his eyes, once filled with warmth and humor, held a depth of sadness that was palpable. The slight
graying at his temples, which she had once found so distinguished, now made him appear weary.
“Do you remember that night at Hojoko?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
“I do.” Of course she did. There was a guy at the bar who wouldn’t stop bothering her, and Graham gallantly swept in, pretending
to be her boyfriend. But she wasn’t going to give in to nostalgia now.
He smiled, albeit sadly. “I had been watching you the entire evening, trying to gather the courage to talk to you. That guy
just gave me the perfect excuse.”
They shared a brief silent moment, lost in the memory of that night, a night that turned into two nights, then four nights,
and then she was moving in with him, a promise of something she thought would last forever.
“I wish we could have held on to that feeling,” Aida said.
“Can I hug you goodbye?”
That broke Aida, and all the tears that she had held back came flowing forth. Graham went to her and folded her into his arms.
She buried her face in his shoulder, the tears mingling with the slight perfume that lingered, a perfume that wasn’t hers.
After a time, he lifted her chin up. “I will always love you. And I will always regret not being able to do this again.” He
kissed her, and she let him.
“Goodbye, Graham,” she said when the kiss broke. She pulled away and went to the door, refusing to give in to the urge to
look back—to run back. She hated that she loved him so much. But nothing could ever be the same.
Yumi was waiting outside, her silvery blue Volkswagen Beetle double-parked not far from where the movers were locking up the
truck. She gave Aida a quick hug, ignoring the honk of the taxi waiting for her to move.
“How are you doing?” she asked after they were on the road. “You look a wreck.”
Aida flipped down the mirror to inspect her visage, then flipped it back up after she saw how right her friend was. “I’m exhausted,