Chapter Fifteen #3
After a beat, Arthur asks, “Are you heading home for the holidays?”
“Yes. Have to give the folks a chance to question my life choices once again. It wouldn’t be Christmas without being asked how come I’ve yet to bring anyone around.”
She expects him to say they shouldn’t do that, to offer the familiar words of comfort she’s heard from Louise and Maggie, the “it sucks” and “how dare they,” but Arthur grins and says, “You ought to come around to mine instead. It’s the opposite, about how I should enjoy my life before I settle, my mom talking about how important it is I deal with my own issues before I can be a proper partner for someone else.
I don’t think she’d let me bring anyone if I asked. ”
Aubrey snorts into her cup. “You don’t have any issues,” she teases, but really it’s a test, curiosity twisting her tone.
“Obviously I have issues. It’d be much too boring if I didn’t. Mostly from my mother, same as most of my personality traits. My father’s a bit plain, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I thought I wanted to know but now I’m not so sure.
It’s no fun if you’re self-aware. Men aren’t meant to be so aware of their issues.
That’s what makes people believe they can change them, since they haven’t put fancy words on their flaws yet.
Like ’fear of commitment’, or ’anxious attachment’. ”
“Mm, well I don’t think I’ve got either of those.
I’ve always just been in serious relationships, actually.
I just don’t have time to start over all the time, right?
Figuring out what someone likes only to have to do it all from the beginning with someone else, over and over again? Who’s got the time, honestly.”
Aubrey is smiling. He knows he’s being a little funny, but he seems to mean it.
“And my mom was much too involved for me to be anxiously attached,” he adds.
“You’ve got it figured out, then. The perfect catch.” The joke is sour on Aubrey’s tongue. She insists on smiling.
“Mm. I think communication’s where it snags.
I shut down when things get a bit rocky.
Consequence of growing up constantly having to talk things through, I guess.
I know I talk a lot, that’s something else.
When I was nineteen I was dating this girl Nina, she always said I talked too much.
But then when we fought it was the opposite.
I just hate talking through conflict. Right away at least. And then also, I wear socks to bed. ”
“No,” Aubrey gasps, to play along and keep the air just light enough to bear.
“Anyway. I’m sure there’s other stuff. I don’t like people in my space.
Organized mess type of thing. The girl I was with the longest, Cynthia, we were together for two years and she only came over to my place three times.
She hated how busy it was. There’s stuff everywhere, shit I don’t need but don’t want to get rid of.
Rocks from the beach, old pots and pans I got from my parents, a lot of books I’ll never read. ”
He draws a vivid yet hazy image. “Right, okay,” Aubrey nods. Now she’s curious to step into this chaos, to add to what she knows of who he is.
“Anyway,” Arthur says. “We usually put together this friends holiday thing where we exchange stupid gifts and rewrite the lyrics to Christmas classics, stuff like that. You’ll come, yeah? It’ll be sometime in early December.”
“Mm, yes, probably.” Aubrey clears her throat. The tea warms her cheeks. “I reckon Florence’ll make sure I’m there.”
He hums, “Mm. But I’m making sure you’ll be there. Right now.”
“Okay. Yeah.”
“We could drive up there together, or whatever. I’m just offering. Anyway, there’s a group chat, I’ll make sure you get all the details.” He drops his eye and shifts in his seat. His hands leave the mug to reach for his jacket. “It’s no big deal. It’s just I’d have a better time if you were there.”
Aubrey opens her mouth to respond with a quip, something that would make this moment something other than what it’s begging to be. But she fails and sits there without saying anything, and watches Arthur get up from his chair and slip his jacket back on.
“Well,” he says, to the quiet kitchen. “Better get this delivery in before we lose it under the snow, yeah? It’s just a couple things.”
Aubrey doesn’t bring up how slow it is at the inn now that winter’s settling in.
How maybe they should pause deliveries for a bit, and she could just go to the grocery store to keep the fridge and pantry stocked.
She keeps quiet and smiles at Arthur when he hands her one of the two boxes he has to bring in.
As he’s leaving, he stops for a moment, outside in the snow. Aubrey stands at the door.
“Did someone really tell you you’re a walking red flag? That you’re undateable?”
“Ah, yes.”
“And he wasn’t twelve years old?”
Aubrey tries very hard not to smile. “Obviously not.”
“Okay.” He turns away. “Well next time that happens you just—you let me know. Okay?”
“Sure.” She’s not sure why she agrees to this request. He waves her goodbye and climbs behind the wheel as she lets the cold in.