Aidan
“So, er, read any good books lately?” I ask Charlotte as we step out onto the library’s front porch. Heat flushes my cheeks, and I’m sure I’m blushing like Harvey from Stardew Valley.
Tonight’s the night. I’m going to ask Charlotte out for a café date. After writing out my script last night, I practiced until my eye lids were heavy and drooping. I’m ready.
I think.
“August Lane,” she cries out unexpectedly loud.
I flinch. “By Regina Black. It’s very good.
” She tips her head back to the sky and closes her eyes.
“Before that, I was reading How to Dodge a Cannonball by Dennard Dayle.” She lets out a low chuckle and lowers her gaze to meet mine.
“Really good read. It’s a satire featuring a flag bearer during the Civil War. ”
“Interesting. I haven’t read either.”
“I have copies in the bookstore.” She leans into my shoulder and wiggles her eyebrows. “I’ll give you a discount.” After a heartbeat, she points to the book peeking out of my bag, “You’re reading Beloved? I love that one too.”
I nod. “It’s a reread. We’re thinking of teaching it next year, and I’m lesson planning for it. Before Legendborn, I was reading Mai Corland’s Five Broken Blades earlier.”
“Oh my god, you are going to love the rest of the series!” She twirls and steps down the stairs, her golden-brown waves bouncing behind her. “I cried at the end of Three Shattered Souls. It’s so good.”
“I will prepare myself.”
A quiet falls over us as we reach the bottom of the hill. The only sounds being the soft thumps of our footfalls and the occasional car winding down Main Street. It rained during the meeting, and the pavement glows with the twinkling lights strung above our heads.
“I like the lights,” I say in almost a whisper, my throat going dry. The town is set for the perfect romantic evening.
Now’s as good a time as ever. I just have one sentence to say. I can do this.
“Yeah,” she replies, looping her arm in mine and bringing me out of my head.
“I love twinkly lights. They’re so pretty.
” We stop briefly on the side of the street opposite the bookstore.
The overhead lights are off, but I can still see the shadows of the display and the shelves.
“I’m thinking of adding some to the window. What do you think?”
Pursing my lips, I say, “It’ll look nice.”
“Good,” she muses. “I ordered a bunch of a twinkly lights, and I wanted some validation before I put them up.” She steps into the street, pulling me with her. I crane my neck to look both ways.
I’ll ask her once we’re safely on the other side.
She pulls me through the alleyway next to her store, to the rear entrance, the one she showed me last night that leads directly to her apartment.
Now, Aidan, now!
“So,” she says as she twists around to face me. A floodlight above casts dramatic shadows across her face. “Have you given any more thought about what you’re going to do about your dad?”
I blink. “I, uh, haven’t had a chance to think much on it.
” I press my lips together and blow air out of my nose.
Maybe I’ll ask her after this conversation resolves.
“It’s been busy the last couple of days.
” Not entirely a lie. There’s always grading, lesson planning, and prepping lesson materials. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” she says. She brings the toes of her shoes together and looks down at them. “I was thinking about it a lot after we talked last night. There’s a lot of things I haven’t thought about for a while, at least not since after Dad died.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
She nods. The waves of her hair sway with the movement of her head. She gnaws on her lower lip. “Can I be honest with you?”
My mind races and I wonder what it is she wants to confess to me.
Have I misinterpreted the situation?
I narrow my eyes at her. “Uh, sure?”
“I think you should try to repair your relationship with your dad,” she says in a completely even voice.
I blink again and shake my head, trying to gather my thoughts. “What?”
“I think you should try to repair your relationship with you dad,” she repeats. “Hear me out, ok?”
I gawk at her. “Why?”
“Because I couldn’t sleep well last night because I was thinking about it,” she says.
Tears well in her eyes and her lower lip quivers.
“There’s a not lot that I regret in my life, but thing is how things happened with my dad.
We had an argument just before he got sick with Covid, and it was stupid.
I don’t even really remember what it was, but I barely got a chance to say goodbye to him.
I mean, sure, once he tested positive, I talked to my parents on Zoom, then he died and I–I—”
I reach my hand up to touch her cheek, rubbing the tear away with my thumb. “That sounds very traumatic, but you also had a good relationship with your dad. While mine…” I suck in air. “I’ve never had a good relationship with my father. He was verbally abusive and hyper critical.”
Her eyes grow wide, and I swear I can see them wobble in the dim light. “But, but you still should—”
I take a step back and run my hand through my hair. “No, Charlotte, no,” I groan out before closing my eyes and shaking my head. “No. No. No.”
“No, you’re not going to take him back? Or no, you haven’t decided?” She asks, reaching out to me, like she’s afraid that I’m going to run away. “Because I really think you—”
“I’m not interested in hearing this right now.”
“You don’t ever know what’s going to happen, and you could lose your dad. I don’t want you to feel the same regrets that I have.”
I twist out of her grip and take a step back from her, frustration coursing through me. My heart pounds in my ears, and my breathing intensifies. “Charlotte,” I blurt out. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Aidan,” she cries. “Listen, I was shattered when my dad died, like literally shattered.” She takes a step towards me, her hands reaching for mine. “I don’t want you to feel that same brokenness and feel regret on top of that. You’re going to regret not accepting your dad’s olive branch.”
I retreat from her, holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now.”
Charlotte comes closer to me, but again, I step back. “Aidan,” she pleas. “Just—”
“No!” I practically shout, and she startles. I begin again, softer this time. “No.” I point to my chest. “This is my decision to make and mine alone. You haven’t even met my dad. How can you just assume that everything’s going to be hunky dory if I take him back?”
“I don’t but—”
“That’s right, you don’t.” I bring my hands up behind my head to control my breathing.
“But I’ve got thirty-two years of being the son of Daniel Talbot, and let me tell you, it’s fucking rough.
I know you mean well, but I’m not someone you can just live vicariously through because your dad died.
Remember, we promised to be harmless to each other, like Bri and Jacob in Yours Truly?
Well, this isn’t being harmless right now, if anything I’m feeling pretty harmed.
What happened to your promise?” I lower my hands and shove them in my pockets.
“Look, I’ll talk to you later. Have a good night.
” With that, I whirl away, my footsteps heavy and my chest tight.
“Aidan, wait? I’m—” Charlotte cries as she darts up behind me, grabbing my elbow.
I spin away, again twisting my arm out of her grip.
“No. I don’t want to hear it. I’m tired and I’m frustrated and I just want to go home.
” I need space and time to think. To replay every word of this conversation for reflection.
“I’ve spent my entire life being told what to do and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either. ”
Her eyes well up with tears, although I’m not sure if I caused those, or if it’s because she’s still upset about her dad. Right now, I’m too angry to keep things straight.
“But I—”
“Stop,” I say in between gulps of air. “I can’t right now. Let me go.”
Her grip loosens on my arm, and she lets her hands fall to her side. “Ok,” she says, her voice small. “I’m sorry. Can we have some tea?”
“I need space. Have a good night,” I grind out, and whirl around in the direction of Main Street.
Behind me, I hear her open and then close the door of her apartment, but I don’t turn back.
I continue walking, not seeing or caring where I’m going.
The movement of my legs and arms calms me.
It’s not until I see the porchlight of my house that I realize that I’ve walked home on autopilot.
I plop down on the porch swing and bury my head in my hands, praying that Xander doesn’t see me and come out to interrogate me on how it went. I don’t think I can handle seeing him right now, even if he’d show sympathy and tell me that I didn’t fuck this up.
Because I did. I did fuck it up. Charlotte was only trying to help me by sharing her own very vulnerable experience, and I yelled at her. I fucking yelled at her.