Chapter Two #2
Louise leans in a little closer so only Aubrey can hear.
“I know someone in need of an escape when I see one. I’ve seen it often enough, picking at my reflection.
But life doesn’t tend to wait long for you to realize what you’ve missed out on.
You don’t have to say yes now. Just think about it.
It’s only a year in my company. Breathing some sea air, pretending none of this here exists.
Nothing too serious, I promise. Just good people, slowing down time for a bit.
Everything’ll be here still when you get back.
And if not, it wasn’t meant to be in the first place. ”
Through a smirk hidden behind her glass, Aubrey says, “You’re very wise tonight. A bit cheesy.”
“Mm. It’s the holidays. I mean, I don’t know. It’s just this idea I had. You’ve got months to decide, anyway. I won’t forget about it, and if nothing’s changed in the spring, then—” Louise shrugs, letting silence finish her sentence for her.
Aubrey nods. “Right. I promise I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
Someone laughs, too loud and too sudden, in the background. Aubrey heads for the pile of paper plates. She goes home early.
On New Year’s Eve, she and Maggie talk each other into going out for the night. They sit at a comically small table at the pub near Maggie’s place and talk of resolutions, making lists on their phones as they order a third round of gin and tonics.
Aubrey types Quit my job and then Maybe get gym membership?
into her phone, then pretends to think of what more she could add to the list. She doesn’t have many resolutions because she tends to pick up new habits and hobbies as they come, only to give up on them just as quickly.
It’s been years now since she decided resolutions are pointless—she doesn’t need a set date to start a routine she knows she won’t stick to.
She gives into the ritual anyway, if only to keep Maggie company. Maggie is her opposite. She falls apart without a set list of bullet points to remind her what she ought to focus on every day.
“This is going to be a good year,” Maggie shouts. Cheerful pop music booms from a speaker that sits nearly straight above their heads.
Aubrey gives into a loud, sudden laugh. “We say that every year.”
“Yes. And I’d argue we have it pretty good.”
Aubrey’s smile grows wider. “We do have it pretty good.”
“You know, I don’t think we should come up with resolutions this year.”
“Mm. Should we have decided on that an hour ago?”
“No, no, I mean, I don’t like the word resolutions. It’s too constricting, with some implied guilt if we don’t stick to them, right? So how about—intentions.”
It’s amusing and ironic, this pattern of subtly altered words spinning old ideas into modern concepts. Intentions instead of resolutions. Toxic instead of unhealthy. Eating habits instead of diets. Gaslighting instead of lying.
Aubrey says, “Ah, I see.” She doesn’t quite see, but she’s not sure why she’d ever disagree.
She nods in the slow, knowing sort of way that comes with a long-standing friendship between people who’ve grown just apart enough that they don’t quite tell each other the full truth anymore. “Intentions, I like that.”
Maggie’s face splits into a newfound grin. “Right? Okay. So what do you intend on doing this year? What would make you happy?”
“Mags,” Aubrey warns gently.
“What?”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“I asked one question.”
“I don’t intend on doing anything special. I intend on getting through another year with friends and family, and maybe a better job by the end of it.”
“But we’re about to turn twenty-eight.”
“Isn’t that thrilling.” The words are flat, but the swell in Aubrey’s chest is real. She holds a neutral expression for maybe half a second before she folds. “Fuck,” she exhales, like a balloon deflating much too fast. “Yeah, we are.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Twenty-eight is fine.
I’m just saying—I don’t know, I think we’re getting a little old to keep pretending this isn’t a thing.
At least write it down. It’s like you won’t acknowledge it, and I’m sitting here feeling like I’m the only one thinking about it. And I know that’s not the case.”
“If I write it down, I might just fall apart. Because then I’ll get to the end of the year, still alone, and ’finally get a boyfriend’ or something like that will still be in my phone, and I already know I’ll have thought about it for nearly every second of every day.
And the only reason I don’t obsess over it now is because I’m desperately trying not to.
I don’t think I’ve encountered anyone in the past decade who hasn’t made it their business to remind me how much of an issue it is. ”
Aubrey can’t hold eye contact when she speaks like this, but out of the corner of her eye she sees Maggie’s expression morph into concern. Her friend asks, “Holidays not so great this year?”
“Could’ve been better.”
“Was Louise not there?”
“She was, yeah.” Aubrey pauses as she weighs what to say next.
She’d thought a lot about telling Maggie about Louise’s plans.
Mostly, she wishes Maggie would tell her to say no, that staying here would be best. That she’d miss Aubrey too much, that there will be too much happening for her to just leave like this.
It’s what she’s been desperate to believe.
She wants to stay here and for things to work out, because maybe then she wouldn’t have wasted the past six years trying over and over to make it all work.
Her place, her work, her social life. Herself.
She doesn’t want to need to move hours away for it to finally feel right.