Chapter 11 #2
“Well…” I went on, feeling slightly self-conscious beneath her gaze, “the people are just … I mean, it’s humans of every size, shape, skin tone, personality …
but they’re all just so themselves. The other day, this real tough-looking old butch stopped me on my way to the bathroom, and I thought she was ready to run me over with her motorcycle, but she just grabbed my wrist and asked, ‘Can I fix that tag on your shirt, honey?’ and it was just—it was really sweet. ”
Aubrey smiled. It was the first real, unguarded smile I had seen from her, and I wondered if this was the Aubrey my friends were used to being around. “I imagine the outfits are pretty great.”
“Understatement. Just incredible style choices all around. Nail art on people of every gender. Wigs and tutus and glitter everywhere. This one guy that I work with, he has a tattoo of an oak tree winding all the way up his arm.” I could almost feel Midas sitting there, glowing with pride.
“And it’s just so welcoming. Like, sickeningly welcoming.
A fucking chimera could stroll in and they’d all line up to hug them. ”
Aubrey snorted. “I used the word chimera a few weeks ago and Emma was like, ‘You mean those grumpy little dogs?’”
“She has an amazing brain.”
“She does.”
“Anyway, it just … it feels like I can be me.”
When I looked up, I caught a hint of longing on Aubrey’s face, but she quickly straightened her expression and took another long gulp of her drink.
“What?” I asked.
“No, nothing, just…” She shook it off, but I could tell she had let her veneer slip without meaning to. My stomach gave the tiniest flip, as if it recognized something I hadn’t consciously identified yet.
“I just wish I had a place like that,” Aubrey finished. “That’s all.”
“You should come sometime. With Emma and Candor.”
“Oh … I don’t know. I have to be really purposeful about where I go, which local businesses I support…”
“You sound like a politician.”
“I know,” she said wryly. “But it matters, you know. Where people see me. How they see me.”
I read between the lines. “Your dad doesn’t like queer people, does he?”
The set of her mouth told me the answer. “He likes to use that classic line, like, ‘It’s none of my business what adults do behind closed doors, but I don’t want to hear about it.’”
“Charming.”
“He is, actually. At least to other people. That’s the problem.”
I took this in. “Did my uncle like him?”
She shrugged. “Impossible to say. He was always nice to my dad, but, like…” She trailed off, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. I could see the alcohol starting to take effect: Her cobalt irises had gone dark and her accent was becoming more Southern by the second.
“What?” I prompted.
“Nothing, just … obviously I didn’t know George well, but I found him hard to read. I could never figure out his real feelings. He always seemed like he was playing the part of who people thought he should be.”
My neck prickled. “You have no idea.”
She turned to face me. “Do you miss him?”
I met her eyes, then looked quickly away.
“You want to know something awful? I don’t really miss him.
Not properly. I don’t think I’m grieving, like, at all.
All these people … They worshipped him. They loved him.
And I barely feel that way at all. It’s almost like he’s a concept in my head.
Like, I can remember the smell of his aftershave, and I can list off facts like Yeah, he liked martinis or He swam laps at the YMCA every morning, but I don’t feel like I knew him like everyone else did. I’m almost jealous of them. Of you.”
Aubrey took this in, her eyes still steady on me. “I don’t think it’s awful.”
I looked at her, surprised.
“It’s honest,” she said softly. “And maybe the only real way to honor someone when they’re gone is to be honest about where it leaves us.”
A lump rose in my throat. I chugged my drink to try to swallow it away. “Um. Thank you for allowing me to spend the night.”
She laughed through her nose. “I didn’t allow you, I invited you.”
“Same thing. I just … I’m sorry I was such a dick to you. When we met.”
Aubrey shifted, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Yeah. That was … not what I had hoped it would be. I really wanted to be your friend.”
“You did? Why?”
She ignored the question. “I’m just glad we’ve gotten to know each other since then.”
“Yeah, me too.”
We lapsed into silence, the nighttime sounds filling the space between us. I finished my drink just as Aubrey finished hers. She put both empty cans back in the box and explained she would throw them away tomorrow.
When we slipped back through the window, Aubrey didn’t even bother to set up the air mattress.
She grabbed an old fuzzy blanket from the closet and curled up on the floor.
I crawled into bed next to Candor, quietly pushing her toward the middle, and turned on my side so I could just see the silhouette of Aubrey’s hair in the moonlight.
I had the strangest urge to tuck it away.