Chapter Seventeen #3
“Ah, yeah. I’ve found people don’t really care about giving advice as much as they care about seeing their own experience reflected in others. Maybe this is what I’m doing now, with you.”
“Well, I like your experience.”
“Thanks.” It hits hard how comforting those words are.
Aubrey reaches over to rest a hand on Renée’s knee.
She says, because she wishes she’d heard that earlier, “The biggest thing you can do for yourself is be confident in the way you think and feel. Reflecting on things for real, and figuring out your opinion, and sitting comfortably with it. Not a lot of people do that.”
Renée opens her mouth to respond, but instead says, “Okay, actually Artie’s coming over now.”
Aubrey freezes. She’s not sure why, because it’s just Arthur, and she spoke to him earlier and she knows he’s there, but he’s coming over, and all she finds to say is, “Why?”
Renée seems perplexed by the question. “How should I know?” And then there’s a shadow next to them, and Arthur bends at the knees to drop to their level. It’s a little weird, like he’s coming over to scold them.
“Happy holidays, ladies.”
Renée seems unimpressed in the way she says, “Same to you, Artie.”
“What have you girls been chatting about?”
Aubrey says nothing. It’s easier to let Renée do the talking. “You sound like an old man,” Renée says. Aubrey chokes on her drink.
Arthur turns his attention to her. “You’re going to let her talk to me like that?”
“I’m actually enjoying myself immensely,” Aubrey says.
“I need a refill.” Renée scoots to the end of her seat and rises to her feet, empty glass in hand. “You can entertain Aubrey here with your questions instead. She’s got great things to share.”
Arthur takes Renée’s place, and Aubrey feels very aware of her posture suddenly. It’s really ridiculous that she’s meant to remember to sit straight all the time. Arthur says, “Great things to share, then?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard some of them.”
“I have, yeah.” He cocks his head and looks off to the side, like he’s thinking of what to say. “So, you’re flying home soon?”
“In a couple weeks. I’ve got my ticket and everything, so it’s real now. It feels like I’ve only been gone for a second, but like it’s also been years.”
“I just got a gig with a bakery downtown, working on catering and such for the holidays. The schedule I’ve got coming up is just insane.”
Aubrey watches him. He hasn’t replied to what she said, which is unlike him. He seems so eager to tell her about this news, like it was the reason he asked in the first place. She nods and smiles to show she’s listening.
Arthur adds, “I just mean, I think this might be the last time we see each other before the new year.”
“Ah, really?”
“Yeah.” He does a very calculated shrug, like he’s doing it for her sake. Her smile widens, and she doesn’t care to hide it. “Just weird to think about,” Arthur says.
“I am coming back, you know.”
“Mm, good. Glad to hear Lunenburg’s grown on you.”
Their conversation feels slow. Aubrey usually loves their languid chats, but tonight it makes her skin itch and her chest tight.
She wants to hear Arthur say the things he seems to be so obviously holding onto.
She feels like a coward, waiting for him to do it, but she doesn’t know how she could ever bring herself to ask.
So she just sits there and plays with her hair, and laughs when he says maybe they won’t see each other because he’s really Santa Claus. And the evening passes.
Florence is stressed, and her voice gets very high when people get too close to her glass coffee table.
Renée doesn’t talk to a lot of people, which Aubrey can’t blame her for.
She herself tries to strike up conversation with Florence’s friends and can’t remember anyone’s names, and no one has much to say about the year coming to an end.
Some talk about their jobs, and Aubrey nods enthusiastically even though the words they say don’t hold any sort of meaning, like ROI, and project management, and year-end bonus, and how no one can get a task done in time.
Arthur doesn’t seem to have that problem.
He stands in small groups and says things like “Oh, yeah, you’ve told me about that!
” and he makes people grin, or maybe it’s the booze.
Aubrey escapes to snack, to pee, to text Maggie and Louise.
The evening heads steadily to an early end—in the air are comments like, “Gotta get up early tomorrow, we’re going shopping,” and “I didn’t sleep well this whole week, I swear I’m sleepwalking,” and suddenly Aubrey is standing at the door and slipping her boots on.
Empty gift bags and scrunched up paper are scattered all over the floor, and dozens of new wine bottles are lined up on the coffee table.
Aubrey spots Arthur parting from the group and heading her way.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
“Heading back. I’m on foot, you see.”
“Right.” Arthur reaches over to grab his coat from the hook, which he begins to slide on. “I’ll walk you down.”
Aubrey doesn’t want to argue. She likes that he wants to come down with her, and if he offered, she’d walk the whole way home with him, though of course that would be outrageous.
She smiles and looks down at her boots, saying nothing until Florence notices them and gasps, “Oh, you’re leaving! Hold on!”
Then everyone gathers at the door, wishing each other goodnight and happy holidays. Florence makes Aubrey promise she’ll text her and does a weird, drunken wink. The whole time, she doesn’t look at Arthur. It feels awkward and tense suddenly.