Chapter Eighteen #2
“Yeah.” Somewhere deep within herself, there’s a small, uncomfortable part of Aubrey that feels shame.
Like she’s let someone down—she’s not sure who, maybe herself—by stepping over to this new reality.
One that for so long she hadn’t belonged to, worked hard to convince herself she didn’t need to belong to.
Still, she chooses very consciously to focus on this new, deeply human feeling.
To allow herself to enjoy it for what it is—something she’d longed for so desperately she’d nearly lost herself over it.
“It’s very weird. It feels obvious, like of course this is how I feel, but there doesn’t seem to be a way to say that without sounding like I was pretending not to know, all this time.
But I really didn’t, and it’s—is embarrassing the word? ”
“It’s not embarrassing to have feelings for someone,” Maggie laughs.
“Well, depends on the man. And you usually don’t find out until it’s too late.
” She takes a step back until she reaches the couch and drags Aubrey along so they both settle down.
“Why him, then? What’s he done to finally crack you? ”
“Christ.” Aubrey sinks into the cushions, into the palms of her hands, into herself.
Through her fingers, she says, “Not a single thing, I’m afraid.
I mean, he’s nice. Very kind, and a good listener.
And so wise, like he’s thought about things, and he’s eager to help.
We get along very well, obviously. But I don’t think—I mean, that’s not why I like him the way I do, I don’t think.
I just enjoy being next to him. I like talking to him even though we don’t have that much in common.
I like his face, and his attention. That’s very selfish, isn’t it?
But he just makes me feel good. That’s it.
I like how I feel around him. He’s not entirely different from other guys I’ve met before, but it’s—I haven’t really pinpointed what it is about him that did the trick.
It’s different from the thousand different ways I thought it might happen.
I thought maybe it would be this loud, sweeping thing.
Confusing, and scary, and shaky on its feet.
Like most of the dating stories I’ve heard, I guess.
But it’s nothing like that at all. It’s very simple.
It just sort of happened quietly. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see it coming. ”
“That’s very romantic.”
“Is it?”
“I think so. I like the way you talk about him. I think that’s all you need, at the end of the day. Something simple that makes you feel good. Loud and sweeping is fun to watch, but it fucking hurts to live.”
“I don’t think I’ve met anyone that’s made me question myself less than he does.
Like I know I can just speak, and he’ll sit and listen and care.
And I don’t have to wonder if I’m saying the right thing, or if maybe he doesn’t want to hear it, or anything else.
He’s just a really good friend that I’d like to—you know. Get wrecked by.”
“Oh, god.” There’s an unmistakable envy in Maggie’s eye that makes Aubrey’s chest swell. It’s rare they sit like this—like equals, each in an experience not unlike the other’s. For what might just be the first time ever, Aubrey feels like she’s caught up to her friend. To the world.
Maggie sits up then, as if she’s just realized something. “What the hell are you doing here, then? You left him there for your parents’ horrid comments and a pitiful hug from me? You’re not getting laid down here, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could’ve gone another minute not seeing you.” The humour doesn’t quite land the way Aubrey hoped it would. She smiles anyway. Maggie hums, unimpressed.
“So, you haven’t told him how you feel,” she guesses correctly. “Otherwise, you would’ve led with that. Tell me why.”
“Can’t a girl stew in her own feelings for a while until she eventually goes mad or talks herself out of it?”
“Surely you won’t talk yourself out of it.”
“I might.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It’s possible I confronted him about his feelings, and he shut me down.”
Maggie’s frown is deep and unwavering. “What does that mean? You’re breadcrumbing the best parts of this story.”
When Aubrey thinks of how she should recount her last conversation with Arthur, her heart races differently than it used to.
On her tongue she can nearly taste the late-night winter air.
“I just wanted to be sure, because everyone kept saying how obvious it was, that he likes me. I thought it was so weird that we didn’t talk about it, right? ”
“It’s not that weird, it’s what people do. You just brought it up, just like that?”
“Well, it’s how we are, usually! We talk about stuff! I figured it’d be fine, we’d clear the air and move on—”
Maggie cuts in, “Did you tell him how you feel first?”
“Well, no, I didn’t know I liked him at the time.”
“So you just confronted him about how he felt without any hint that you might return the sentiment? That he might not get hurt should he decide to be honest?”
Aubrey opens her mouth to argue back, but nothing comes out.
Not a breath or a thought. She presses her lips back together.
In the apartment, the world is suddenly too quiet.
The sun is lowering and the shadows grow long.
Aubrey turns to switch on the little seashell lamp on the side table behind her.
It clashes with the holiday decor. While she’s looking away, she says, “Maybe?”
“Aubrey,” Maggie says with disappointment, and Aubrey almost wants to laugh.
Instead, she lets out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know, I just found it so irritating, not talking about it.”
“It is, yeah. But there’s a reason people don’t talk.
Like, nearly ever. It’s terrifying. Like leaping off a really tall building and hoping somehow you’ll land on your feet, but it’s very unlikely, and you can’t really think of a reason you’d make it out alive.
And you know you can just wait on top of the building and not do much about it, so why not stay there?
Where you feel okay, and you’re in one piece, and everything can stay the same? ”
“Right.” Aubrey thinks of a very tall building.
She thinks of anyone ever having feelings for her—it feels so ludicrous, she can’t imagine it’d be a confession worth more than stepping off the curb.
And she thinks of Simon, of his birthday party.
Her chest grows tight. She clicks her tongue, annoyed now at this turn in the conversation.
“Surely he knows there was a good chance I’d reciprocate. ”
“But you didn’t then.”
“Sure. But I could’ve. And I do now.”
“And all he knows is that in all the years you’ve spent on this earth, you never once felt romantic feelings strong enough to actually be with anyone. And it’s fine! But you can’t really blame him for assuming he wouldn’t be the exception to the rule.”