Chapter Six #2
They don’t talk about men, but Aubrey thinks about them and she knows her aunt does too.
There’s this unspoken rule between them now, that if they are to be the resilient, secure women they aim to be, that topic should stay off the table.
It’s the opposite of what their relationship used to be.
Living with Louise now, Aubrey has never been more aware of how impossible it feels to navigate life without talking about relationships with other people.
Even when you’re single, whether you’re looking for someone or not, pretending really hard not to notice or care or truly feeling better and happier alone, it’s just always there.
So easy to grasp at when there’s a lull in the conversation.
How’s it going with so and so? Have you met anyone recently?
Aubrey asks Maggie how her dates have been, each and every one of them, and every time she itches to hear every little detail.
Even now, though Louise has always insisted she’s much happier on her own, Aubrey secretly waits for the day her aunt might announce she’s met someone, or been asked out at work, or reconnected with a past lover.
Part of Aubrey, she knows very well, is just as bad as everyone who centres relationships and romantic connections as sorts of standards to uphold.
She’s not sure why she thought things would be different in the remote safety of Lunenburg. It’s only been a few weeks, and things are already settling into familiar patterns. At least she’s still holding off perusing the online profiles of local singles.
“Oh, come on, why won’t you?”
Aubrey laughs. It’s late at night in the middle of July. The windows are open. She sits cross-legged on the floor of the inn’s living room with her laptop on the coffee table. Maggie’s face fills the screen.
“I’m just not ready to see what’s out there,” Aubrey says. “I do want to. I just haven’t done it yet.”
Maggie scoffs. “I would’ve downloaded everything available on the very first day. Have you left the house even once?”
“Of course I’ve left the house. I’ve seen all the touristy things, the waterfront and the parks. It’s a lovely town. Very uphill.”
“Have you gone out for drinks?”
“I get so little time off. I’m certainly not spending it drinking alone.” Aubrey grimaces. An empty glass of wine sits next to her laptop. “At least not in public.”
“Please get one of those apps now and swipe through a few profiles with me. Please.” Maggie is sitting on her bed with her legs drawn to her chest. She rests her cheek against her knee and waits.
“Fine.” Aubrey unlocks her phone and says without looking up, “You sound tired.”
“I am, yeah. Exhausted.”
“How come?”
“I miss you.”
It doesn’t take long to redownload the last app Aubrey deleted off her device. She says, “I miss you, too.”
“Yes, but you have it nice.”
“So do you, yeah?”
Maggie hums. “I haven’t been out with anyone in weeks. If I’m not heading to the office I don’t have much of a reason to leave my room.”
If only she were by Aubrey’s side now, picking a new profile picture and writing an amusing yet enticing description for her instead of sitting so still on her computer screen. “You’ll come up here and visit soon, won’t you? Before the weather turns miserable.”
“Of course.” Maggie pulls a face. “What will you do in the winter, when all the tourists leave?”
Aubrey sets her distance and age preferences and sighs. “I don’t know yet. Easier to leave it to later.”
“A very you thing to say.”
Aubrey pretends it’s a compliment. It reminds her more of Louise. “Should I show you every profile as I swipe along?”
Maggie sits up then. “Yes. I don’t trust your judgment much anymore.”
Aubrey holds the phone up to her screen and Maggie shakes her head no. Swipe left. “I think I know best if I like someone or not,” Aubrey argues.
“Well, this isn’t really about liking someone, is it? It’s just a profile on the internet.” Maggie signals for no again. “I just think you don’t give yourself enough options. He doesn’t have to be the ideal man of your dreams.”
“Mm.” Aubrey follows along to Maggie’s signal, swiping right on a couple profiles.
She feels somewhat guilty for giving in like this, for letting Maggie control this part of her life.
But then again, she hasn’t been taking much care of it herself.
At least Maggie’s making somewhat of an effort on her behalf.
“Wouldn’t it be better if he was, though? It’d save us some time.”
“Probably, yeah. But then you won’t find him unless you get it wrong a couple times. Afraid that’s just how it is for most of us.” Maggie leans close to the screen. “I like that one.”
“Okay.” Aubrey taps the little heart next to the picture of a smiling, red-haired man. He’s holding a fish, but she faults her staying in a port town for that. “Can I tell you something?”
“What a ridiculous question,” Maggie says with a soft smile. At times friendship is a little easier from a distance, through texts or video calls while sitting alone in the dark.
“Sometimes I feel like the fact I’ve been single forever has become the only interesting thing about me.
” It’s absurd, saying out loud what she’s been thinking for a while now.
She watches Maggie’s expression closely as she speaks, but subtly, out of the corner of her eye.
“Like it’s the only little bit about myself that makes me stand out from everyone else.
I don’t really feel special in any other way.
I don’t have any unique hobbies, or talent, or story.
” Aubrey drops her eye at the bottom left corner of the screen, at her own image.
“I’m just very normal, except for this one thing.
So then when I finally find someone, won’t it just make me very normal, and nothing else? Just boring?”
“Aubrey.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve moved to a random town in Nova Scotia.”
“It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, actually.”
“Well, that’s something.” Maggie shifts on the screen. “You know, I’ve never thought about that for a single second, in my entire life. About being normal, or boring.”
“About yourself, you mean?”
“Sure, but about you, too. I mean, you’re stunning, and funny, you certainly have to know that, and if that’s all that’s been holding you back, then go get yourself a hobby, I’m begging you.”
Aubrey snorts back a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.
I just think—I don’t know. Like I keep picturing myself in this incredible story, but when I really look at things it’s all just very mundane.
Like, nothing really feels like I think it should.
Moving up here has been fine so far. The novelty’s worn off a little, and I’ve kept most of my usual routine from home.
Why would falling in love be any different? ”
“Well, I don’t think you can imagine what falling in love will really feel like. I don’t think it’ll disappoint. And it won’t make you boring. I mean, honestly. That’s a little insulting.”
The both of them snicker quietly, in their respective spaces, as if it would break their comfortable bubble to make any loud noises. “That’s not what I was trying to say,” Aubrey insists.
“I know.”
“It’s hard sometimes to decide how I should feel about things. Like, one minute I’m so happy and confident in who I am and the decisions I’m making, and then the next I wonder if everyone’s right, and I’m too picky, and overthinking, and broken.” Aubrey holds her phone up to the screen again.
Maggie shakes her head no and says, “Does it help to know having a boyfriend doesn’t really fix that at all?”
“Mm.”
“It’s such an arbitrary thing, at the end of the day. I’ve had a bunch of them. And I’m still here with you, alone on a Friday night. We’re in the same place. And we’ve got each other.”
Aubrey smiles, just a little. “Poetic.” A popup on her screen indicates a new match then.
Raphael. He looks like he spends most of his free time outside in a slightly obnoxious way.
He wears nice outdoorsy jackets in all his pictures.
“I know it’s arbitrary and pretty stupid.
I just can’t stop feeling like it matters so much. ”
“The way you feel about this, is it how you feel about other people in relationships? Like they’ve got nothing interesting to say?”
“No, of course not.” Aubrey winces, then dares.
“Well, sometimes I do feel it’s all they’ve got to talk about.
Especially in groups. People talk about it so much between them, Jesus.
You’d think most of what it does is cause problems, being in love.
And then when I talk to people in relationships, they ask questions about dating, right?
And if I don’t have anything much to say, it’s very rare they ask about anything else.
I do have other things to say. Like the last book I’ve read, or the—mm, well. There’s stuff, I’m sure.”
“Mm.” Maggie looks like she wants to disagree but can’t bring herself to. She ventures, “Maybe other people are the problem, then.”
“All signs seem to point to me, is the thing.”
“Should I tell you the way I see it?”
“I’m hoping you will.”
“People talk a lot about dating because it is, I’m afraid, one of the most interesting things we’ve got going, as a group.
People care a lot about it. You do, too.
Even when people do extraordinary things, we’re generally most interested in the crunchy details of their personal lives.
Even politicians and royals and celebrities.
We’ll sit in front of the TV and watch people fail at dating for hours on end.
Romance has us by the throat. It’s not a commentary on your value as a person. It’s just human nature.”
Aubrey says nothing. She misses Maggie even more now. She shrugs.
Maggie continues, “If you want to do something about it, I think either you go on a date, or you find a way to have less time on your hands. You think about other people too much to be spending so much time alone.”