Chapter Fourteen
Aubrey leans over quickly to Florence, hidden behind Raphael’s torso, to let her know she’ll be right back.
Florence is still busy talking to a man at the bar, not the same one as earlier, but a seemingly funny man nonetheless.
They share a look of understanding before Aubrey turns to follow Raphael.
Outside, the air smells like winter and permeates her lungs.
Earlier, not wearing a jacket felt like a bold, rebellious statement against the impact of temperature on her body.
Now it feels like a mistake. She tucks the flimsy fabric of her sheer, low-cut blouse over her knuckles and hugs it to her chest.
“I’m glad you’ve been good,” Raphael says to bridge the awkward gap between this moment and the brief exchange they had inside.
Aubrey allows herself one petty comment, because it’s too cold out not to indulge in the easy, familiar taste of bitterness. “I would’ve been happy to keep you up to date on my well-being, if you’d texted.”
“Right.” They head in the opposite direction from the lineup and find a quiet spot on the edge of the building.
“I’m sorry about that. Really. I didn’t think about what I was doing, I should’ve considered the consequences, et cetera.
” A verbal eyeroll. It catches Aubrey off-guard, but not quite as much as she expected.
“Simple as that,” she says flatly.
“I’m just summing it up.”
“It sounds like you’ve memorized your summary.”
“Come on.” Already he grows a bit irritated, like this wasn’t his idea. “We’d only been on one date. People do a lot worse.”
Even in the cold, Aubrey’s face is burning. “Great,” she says. The word tastes like metal.
“I’m sure you felt the same way.”
“You assume this very definite thing about me, even though we’ve had no communication that would indicate I should feel this way.
” She looks around to see if anyone’s staring, if they’ve noticed how embarrassing this is.
She’s not sure what she expected, but she’s sure she feels shame blooming in her chest now, making it a little harder to breathe.
Raphael is true to the person she spoke with on the shore months earlier—amused even when annoyed, seemingly keen to play along. He says, “I guess so, yeah. Can I tell you what I’ve come to realize?”
Aubrey sits a little with the silence, because it feels too easy to say yes. This conversation is for him more than it is for her, she knows it, but she can’t bring herself to walk away. She wants to hear what he has to say, just in case it makes this feel a little less personal.
“It did bother me when you told me you’d never been in a relationship,” he says. Aubrey should’ve seen it coming, but hearing it so plainly, she comes to find, still sucks. “It’s hard not to see it as a red flag. I mean, how come you’ve never committed to anyone before?”
Aubrey musters a stifled “Mhm” that catches in her throat.
“I think maybe I saw it as a reflection of myself I didn’t want to look at.
I’ve messed up a lot, I did the dating thing in high school, and then university, and I went through all those mistakes and it was so weird sitting there with you, who’s done none of it.
It’s like you’re a blank slate, and all I could think sitting there was how many issues I’d accumulated, and how I couldn’t bring myself to pull you into this.
I don’t think I’m the right fit to be anyone’s first. Like I wouldn’t be good enough, or—or why would I risk being the first one to ever hurt you? ”
“You think because I’ve never been someone’s girlfriend, I’ve never been hurt?” She watches him very closely. The balls on him.
“I just mean—it scared me to meet someone who’s never gone through what I’ve been through.
I’m not saying I was right, I’m just putting into words the why.
It was like you were this perfect person who’d never done any wrong, who still had the best chance at getting it right.
” His eyes are wide and lost. His breath suggests he’s had a drink or five.
“I don’t know, fuck. You were just too much for me, Aubrey.
You were too much in how little you’d been through.
It was like you were trying to prove something by waiting so long, as if you’re better than other people. ”
“I never said that.”
“I know, but it was there. It messed with my head and I kept thinking somehow you were trying to show everyone you wouldn’t get it wrong, like we all do.”
“But ’we’ don’t all go through it, is what I’ve been trying to tell you.
” Two people to her left turn in Aubrey’s direction when she speaks.
She lowers her voice a little. “It’s not everyone.
It’s me and a lot of other people, and that’s just the point.
I never said there was any wrong or right.
I just want everyone to care less. I wasn’t trying to make a statement.
I mean, Jesus. I’m begging to get it wrong, at this point. ”
His mouth has grown tight, his eye averted. “You have to see how easy it is to feel the way I do.”
“But I don’t! And I didn’t sit there for years and plan out this perfect social commentary on modern dating.
None of it was on purpose, it was just something that kept happening to me, and I kept getting older, and I never thought of it as fifteen years, or twenty years, or twenty-five years, except in moments like these, talking to you.
” Aubrey notices then how very little she knows this man.
“I felt we had a nice time. I didn’t question anything, because you seemed open, and interested, and for some reason I thought, oh, surely he must get it. ”
“I tried to.”
“No, I know. It’s fine.” It’s such a weird thing to internalize, this realization that you don’t know what anyone’s thinking, not really. Aubrey says, “Thanks for telling me this.”
Raphael seems hesitant. “Really?”
“Sure.” She busies herself looking for somewhere to sit. The cold lingers on the back of her neck. To the air, she says, “At least I don’t have to wonder anymore.”
“I mean, no offense, really, but I didn’t think it was that memorable, between you and me.”
This nearly makes her laugh. She says, “I mean about everyone. I don’t have to wonder what it is about me that could ever seem so scary. How people justify this as a reason to deem me uninteresting. Now I know.”
“You’re not uninteresting.” Raphael’s breath swirls by his nose when he speaks. “It’s just, it’s more than not wanting to hurt you and whatnot. Or feeling like you’re trying to prove to everyone how much better you happen to be.”
“I’m not trying—”
“There’s just also the fact that you could change your mind.
It’s so rare, finding your person on the first try.
Everyone messes up and realizes that something’s not right for them.
It’s how the odds go. So what if you get with someone, and then after a while you get bored, or you wonder what else is out there, and—I’m just saying, no one’s content with only one person their whole life. ”
Aubrey finds nothing to say then, which makes her more angry than anything. She mouths syllables that lead nowhere. Raphael adds, “I know you’re thinking you might be special, and you could get it right in one go. I’m just saying, it’s a big risk to take.”
“I’m a big risk to take?”
“I know it sounds bad.”
“Couldn’t you have just said we weren’t a good fit? Isn’t that what it is, at the end of the day?”
“It could be. Yeah.”
“I’d prefer if it was. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m entirely unlovable and doomed to end my days alone.”
“It’s not what I meant to say. It’s—well, shit.” He pulls a face, like something’s just dawned on him. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it?”
“You know what’s frustrating about you? You’re kind of an asshole, but kind of not.”
He smiles a little. The air is brisk and people around them have lost interest. Aubrey finds it fascinating that he remains amused, even now. She regrets the latter part of that sentence already.
“Okay, yeah,” Raphael says, with a small nod.
“Like, you’re aware that what you’re saying is shitty, but you’ve yet to learn not to say it.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe you’re right, then. You’re not done messing up, and it’d really suck if you put that on me.”
Raphael seems smaller now in the width of his coat. When he speaks, he doesn’t seem to address her directly. “I liked the conversations we had, what we talked about. I thought you might want to know why I didn’t write you after.”
“I did.” Funnily enough, this is the most Aubrey’s talked to the same man in a long time, except maybe for Arthur.
Still, she feels so far removed from who Raphael is.
Somehow she knows that no matter what she tells him now, it doesn’t really matter.
“I just thought maybe closure would sting a little less,” she says, mostly to herself.
“Closure rarely comes the way we want it to, I think. Otherwise, it’s not really closure. It’s a fantasy.”
Aubrey winces and looks up at the sky, at the streetlights ahead. “My head hurts.”
She’s tired, and she wants to tell Florence about this, and she wants Florence to say that Raphael really is awful, and all will work out, and surely none of what he said is actually true.
She wants it to be Monday, and she wants to see Arthur and pack away the delivery with him and talk about how he’s been, how she’s been.
Maybe she’ll tell him about Raphael, she’s not sure yet.
She’ll wait to see if he tells her about his date.
“I’m heading back inside,” Raphael says firmly, as if to convince them both.
“Right. Have a good night, I guess.”
His attention lingers on her for a moment. He looks sad, almost, or disappointed. “Okay,” is all he finds to say. Then he nods and adds, “See you, Aubrey,” and vanishes past her, back through the entrance of the club.
Aubrey pulls her phone out to send an SOS to Florence, a short Standing outside, please join?? but when the screen lights up, someone else already waits for her.