by Grey, R. S.
“Oh.”
He sounds surprised. Then finally, he continues, “Yeah…I guess so.”
It feels good to be the one who pushes us toward this decision, like I’m in the driver’s seat for once.
“So New York City, huh?”
“AIDEN! DUDE!” someone shouts into the phone.
I wince and hold it away from my ear, and then a second later, the call disconnects.
I stare down at the screen for a few moments, wondering if he’ll call back, and then I remember what he said about having a hard time reaching me all day.
Chances are, that was our one shot and it’s over now.
* * *
A lot can change in a few days. In fact, I suppose your entire life can go up in flames if you’re not careful.
I twist the key in the lock back at the condo and push the door open. It’s Sunday night, but the place is empty. I don’t call out to see if Aiden’s home; I know he’s not.
In the door to his bedroom, there’re a few boxes stacked up, already packed and labeled and taped closed. The writing on the side isn’t his.
In the morning, more movers will be here to finish doing the job of boxing up Aiden’s life.
He isn’t coming back to this condo.
This morning, he called me when I was about to leave the desert. The conversation was short and unexpected.
“They want me to fly out to cover the labor disputes and walkouts happening in Paris. There’s a foreign correspondent there already, but they need more journalists on the ground.”
I don’t remember what I told him, whether I sounded impressed or supportive. I know I didn’t ask him to come home, that’s for sure.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be over there, so I’m going to have movers come pack up my stuff. That way you’re not stuck with my crap everywhere.”
Yeah. Stuck.
We talked about our lease and whether or not I’d try to find another roommate. We talked about him covering his half of the rent until I found someone else to move in, and then Aiden’s flight was about to finish boarding. I heard them announce it through the phone. Final call.
“I gotta go, Maddie.”
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t tell him bye. I couldn’t tell him the truth, not then. Not because it felt like it was too little too late, but because somewhere between Aiden first getting the New York Times interview and that moment, I decided I wouldn’t stand in his way. I know the type of guy Aiden is. He wouldn’t want to hurt me.
If I told him the truth about my feelings, he’d be caught between a rock and a hard place. Either he’d leave me high and dry to pursue his dreams, knowing I’d be crushed, or maybe he’d do the nice thing and come back to Austin to be with me. And then what?
Where would we be with Aiden keeping his old job at Texas Monthly, pretending that was enough for him and knowing full well he gave up the opportunity of a lifetime?
So I made it easy for him. I didn’t tell him the truth, and I didn’t tell him goodbye.
I pretended the call dropped, hung up, and shut the door on us for good.
Chapter Eleven
Aiden
’Tis the season to be jolly and all that.
Snow is falling outside. The soaring mountains I see through the fogged windshield of my rental car make it very apparent I’m no longer in New York City. My brother and sister-in-law purchased a vacation home in Vail, Colorado, a few months back. They invited me to join them for the holidays, and I couldn’t pass it up. It’ll be a whole week away from work, a week to relax and spend time with family I haven’t seen since I left Texas last year.
Our reunion feels long overdue.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tic. I know Maddie is going to be at the house. I know because I asked my brother about it four different times.
“She might not be able to take the time off,” he warned.
“But it’s Christmas,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but she has a new position with Elise. Didn’t she tell you?”
No. She didn’t tell me. Maddie and I don’t talk anymore.
At some point between me taking the job with the Times and now, our friendship dissolved into thin air. Wait, wrong—not at “some” point. It was a million different points. A million different texts that went unanswered. A million different phone calls that went straight to voicemail. A million different emails that probably never got read.
She ditched me.
I left for Paris, and the phone calls and texts started trickling in less and less. She didn’t take a guillotine to our friendship. It was slower, more drawn out. There were so many awkward moments where I had to consider if I was reading too much into the silence. Maybe she’s just busy, I told myself. Maybe her phone’s dead. Maybe she has a new life and it doesn’t include me.
Of course, I asked Jolie and James about it.
“She isn’t getting back to you? We just spoke to her last night. She found a new roommate.”
“Oh cool. Yeah, well could you have her call me?”
“Sure thing.”
Nothing.
And that was a year ago.
Either they never passed on my messages, or Maddie never actually took them to heart.
Once the line of communication completely faded to nothing, I thought about flying back to Austin to see her face to face, but I never found the time to take off work, at least not in the beginning. When I did manage to carve out a long weekend, I was faced with the hard question: would Maddie even want to see me?
This whole thing is ridiculous.
I’ve let it grow into a bigger deal than it really is.
I’ll see her today and everything will click right back into place. Maddie and Aiden together again, just like old times.
Jolie and James’ house backs up to Gore Creek in Vail, and once I pass the Four Seasons, I see it up ahead on my left. It’s a sprawling mountain chalet. Truly—I could fit my entire New York City studio apartment inside it ten times over. The driveway (heated, of course) has room for a whole fleet of cars. I pull in and park beside a white Mercedes SUV.
Their house is a nice pile of bricks. Or stones, rather. It does an okay job of trying to blend in with the mountains surrounding it, but something about it still shouts, LOOK AT ME!
Maybe it’s the size. Maybe it’s the location.
Maybe I’m focusing too much on a house and not enough on what’s about to happen once I step inside of it.
I sigh and push my door open, getting blasted by a whoosh of icy air. I’m still not used to real winters. I’m a Texan at heart, warm-blooded.
I round the back of my rental car and pop the trunk, retrieving my bags. One of them is filled with presents. Admittedly, I have an awkward number of gifts for Maddie, but it’s only because I haven’t seen her in so long. I picked up a little watercolor painting from an artist on the streets of Paris last year and had it framed. I also bought a locket from a jeweler in Lebanon when I was sent there this past summer. It’s inscribed with a tiny M on the front.
I threw in some crap for the others too. James is getting a bottle of whiskey, and I think I got a sweater for Jolie. I can’t remember; I just had a shop assistant wrap up whatever she thought seemed appropriate.
I do have some gifts for my nephew. Ford is almost a year old now, though I don’t know what that means exactly. Is he walking? Eating real food? Do they already babble at this age or am I jumping the gun?
I guess I’ll find out.
I head up to the front door and knock, waiting for someone to answer.
It takes a while. My fingers start to go numb.
“Hello?” I bang on the door a little harder, annoyed.
Finally, it sweeps open and Jolie stands there wearing a red and white checkered apron over a black sweater dress. Little Ford is propped on her hip, chewing on his fist.
“Aiden! You made it!” she says with a wide welcoming smile.
She ushers me i
n and I toe off my boots so I don’t tromp snow through their house.
“How was the drive? Not bad, right?”
“No. I made good time.”
“And your rental held up? Mountain driving can be a little tricky.”
“It did fine.”
I don’t want to be talking to Jolie. No offense, but Maddie’s sister is about as entertaining as a bowl of Raisin Bran. My mom raised me right, though, so I resist the urge to put my hand on her forehead and push her aside, brusquely heading off to find Maddie. I let her give me a quick tour of the house as we head toward the kitchen.
Wow, a formal sitting room filled with uncomfortable-looking antiques. Great.
A bathroom—groundbreaking.
This is taking forever!
Finally, I hear voices carry out into the hallway, and up ahead, a huge arched doorway reveals the kitchen and family room. That’s where everyone is gathered: James, Maddie, and…
A guy.
What the fuck.
Maddie is standing by him, leaning her head on his shoulder. I blink, not quite sure I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. Maddie has a boyfriend? Maddie has a boyfriend she brought to Christmas?
I drop my bags near the doorway, and the heavy thud draws everyone’s attention.
“Aiden!” James says, eager to welcome me into the fold.
I don’t even look at him.
I’m looking at Maddie, trying to get a read.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. Her blonde hair is long and straight, hanging over one side of her face. Her cheeks are red from the cold, and so are her bee-stung lips. Her brown eyes reveal nothing. She could be a complete stranger, but she’s as beautiful as I remember. Beautiful and…angry.
I know she’s angry.
It’s why she’s standing there, silent. It’s why she glances over at me with no excitement, no nothing. She doesn’t come over, punch my arm, and ask me where the hell I’ve been.
This was supposed to be a reunion, but it feels like a standoff.
It’s the guy who says hi to me first.
“What’s up, man? I’m Brent.”
BRENT.
Fuck right off, Brent.
I shake his hand, but in my head, I imagine twisting his arm behind his back, leading him to the front door, kicking him out, and tacking on a taunt like, And stay out! before slamming the door in his face.
“Brent, good to meet you, man.”
I shake his hand hard and I don’t let go. At first, it’s normal. Then he looks worried, glancing down at our hands as I continue to shake his.
“Where are you from?” I ask, meeting his eyes.
“Austin.”
“Cool, cool. Is that how you know Maddie?”
“Yeah. We’re…dating.”
He falters. I think I’m scaring him, but no one stops me. Ford is crying, which has Josie and James distracted. Maddie is right where she was when I first walked in. Maybe she’s scared to get too close.
Brent finally extracts his hand from mine and shakes it out with a light laugh. He’s trying to ease the tension, but there’s no use.
“Dating, huh? You and Maddie?” I peer around his shoulder to confirm this with her.
She rolls her eyes and turns away. “C’mon, Brent. Let’s go look at the view from the balcony.”
James comes over and thumps me on the shoulder with brotherly affection. “I can take you to your room.”
I let him help me carry my bags down the hallway. He’s talking about the house, telling me what they’ve done to it since they purchased it, how lucky they were to scoop up the property during a down market, and then he points to a door down the hall. “Maddie and Brent are in there. You’re in the room next to them. I hope you’re okay with sharing a bathroom.”
“No problem. Hey, about that…how long have they been together?”
James’ brows hit his hairline as he scratches his chin. “Together? Oh, I’m not sure. This is the first time we’ve met him.”
“But Maddie’s talked about him before?”
He looks slightly embarrassed. “If she has, I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, life with a baby is rough. I barely remember what day of the week it is.”
Great. Some help he’ll be.
I need to know what I’m walking into. Is Brent the reason Maddie and I lost touch? Has she moved on already?
Impossible.
She’s my Maddie. And yes, I know humans are not property and referring to her in that manner in the twenty-first century would have cancel culture coming after me with pitchforks, but fuck it. She’s mine. I left her in Austin for safekeeping. She wasn’t supposed to change and move on and leave me high and dry.
I stay in my room and unpack my clothes, trying to come to terms with the turn of events. Maddie has a boyfriend. Maddie. Boyfriend. It’s like the two words don’t belong in the same sentence.
I take my Dopp kit into the bathroom and plop it down by the sink closest to my room. The other sink has toiletries littered around it already. Maddie and Brent’s stuff.
I pick up her perfume and smell it. The scent tangles around my chest. I eye Brent’s toothbrush and consider using it to clean the toilet. Instead, I just daydream about it.
“Aiden! C’mon!” James calls from down the hall. “We want to walk and take the gondola to the top of the mountain!”
Of course. Winter activities. It’s why we’re all here. Well, why everyone else is here.
I grab some gear so I don’t freeze my ass off before meeting everyone in the foyer. Jolie is bundling Ford into a tiny red snowsuit that makes it nearly impossible for him to move his arms and legs.
Maddie is having trouble with the zipper on her jacket, so Brent steps forward to help her. She doesn’t realize he’s there and lifts her head just as he moves in close. Her skull collides with his nose.
She gasps. “Crap! I’m sorry!”
“Language!” Jolie hisses.
Brent groans in pain, and I lean in, hoping for blood, but there’s none. He blinks as if he’s trying not to wince, and then he laughs.
“I’m totally fine. Sorry, that’s what I get for trying to be chivalrous.”
Yes, exactly. Lesson learned. Don’t go near her.
“Maddie, I like your hat,” I say.
It’s the red beanie I bought her two Christmases ago. She frowns and reaches up to touch it as if only now realizing that. With a sharp tug, she yanks it off.
“You know, this actually won’t keep me warm enough out on the mountain. Hold on, I’m going to go grab my other one.”
Brent looks at me, and I swear there’s pity in his gaze.
Save it.
“You know what? I forgot my gloves.”
I turn back and head down the hallway after Maddie with my gloves safely tucked in my pocket.
She’s in her room, riffling through her suitcase. The red beanie is on the floor at her feet.
“I have a hat if you need to borrow one.”
My voice makes her jump, but she tries to play it off with a subtle shrug. “It’s fine. I can just…” She shoves clothes aside and groans with annoyance. “It’s in here…somewhere.” Then she whips out a black hat lined with faux fur. “Aha!”
She gives me a big fake smile, positions it on her head, and steps on the red beanie on her way back to the door, which I’m currently leaning against.
I don’t move out of her way.
I narrow my eyes down at her, trying to take a pickaxe to the hard shell she’s surrounding herself with.
“Maddie.”
Her name said in earnest is a plea.
Meet my eyes and let’s work through this. Meet my eyes and tell me what I did wrong.
“Uh-huh?”
Her voice comes out too high-pitched.
“Why are you doing this?”
Her delicate brow arches. “Doing what? Coming back here for my hat? Like I said, the red one—”
“You haven’t even said hello to
me.”
“Oh.” She laughs. “Hello.”
Then she brushes by before I can stop her and hurries down the hall.
So this is the name of the game: avoidance.
Let’s see how long it lasts.
Chapter Twelve
Maddie
“Hi Aiden!”
“Welcome back, Aiden!”
“You’re looking very healthy, Aiden!”
Those are all the things I could have said when I first saw him walk into my sister’s house. Instead, I looked up as he strolled in, his dark hair dusted with a light sprinkling of snow, and every ounce of courage I’ve been building up for the last few weeks flew right out the door.
I wasn’t expecting my feelings for him to come rushing back like a tidal wave.
The truth is, it wasn’t easy to move on from him. In fact, it’s proved so difficult, I still haven’t succeeded.
The time since he left for New York has felt like a boring, sad independent film that I’m tired of watching. One day bleeds into the next.
Day 1 without Aiden: wallowed in self-pity.
Day 15 without Aiden: smelled the t-shirt I stole from his closet before the movers came and took all his stuff. No, the irony was not lost on me. I was now one of the sad girls stealing his things in the hopes of hanging on to him for that much longer.
Day 26 without Aiden: attended Stephanie and Elliot’s wedding on my own, barely made it through the ceremony without losing it, left early.
Day 95 without Aiden: walked past our favorite Thai restaurant and started crying so hard on the sidewalk that a stranger asked if I needed them to call someone on my behalf.
Day 234 without Aiden: snooped on social media trying to decipher if the girl who tagged him in a photo was just a friend or something more.
I’ve since stopped counting the days since he moved away in a pitiful attempt to pick up the pieces of my life, but now I see that it was all in vain. Count, don’t count, pretend to move on—whatever. The fact is, Aiden will always feel like home.
