by C. L. Stacey
The house hasn’t been the same without him.
My parents join us out in the living room, and I’m reminded of the guest I’ve completely forgotten about.
“Family, this is Caleb Carlisle. Caleb, meet my family. This, here,” Aryn squeezes me again, “is my kid sister, Ari. And over there, you have my parents, Carl and Jane.”
The guy steps around Aryn, and all I see is chest. I poke my finger against the bill, tipping my cap back a tiny bit to get a better look at him, but that isn’t enough, so I drop my head further back.
I gasp, and then I blush, because he totally just heard me.
He is, without a doubt, the most beautiful giant I’ve ever seen.
Now he’s just a beautiful idiot.
I feel bad enough just thinking disappointing thoughts about my brother, so to hear someone bash him out loud completely ticked me off.
We can all sympathize with Aryn’s pain, but we’ll never fully understand it. We can be here for him, but we’ll never be what he needs. What we can do is pray that he finds his way back soon, to come to terms with what’s real and focus on his future with Ayli.
A sad memory comes to mind when I smile down at my niece. That year was also the first time Aryn told us about Kayli. He described her as the woman of his dreams. He said he’d never seen a woman as beautiful as her.
Ayli stares with wonder at her little bath toy, her favorite rubber fishy. “Hey, guppy…” I pinch the fish and giggle when Ayli kicks out her legs in reaction to the squeaking sound it makes. “Having fun?”
Bath time is her absolute favorite part of the day. She loves resting in her little sling, just being in the water, splashing around.
My heart squeezes when Ayli rewards me with a gummy smile. Moments like these are when I hurt for Aryn the most.
He’s missing it… all of it.
Which is why I record these sessions daily. He’ll come around one day, and he’ll wish he had the chance to do it over again, but he won’t have to if I have pictures and videos handy. Sure, it won’t be as great as the real thing, but it’s the closest he’s going to get.
I pull my phone out and hit record. “Hi, Ayli,” I sing with a smile, and she flashes me that gummy grin of hers again. I give the fish another squeeze, and Ayli nearly splashes water onto my phone when kicking out her legs. “Your little guppy loves this fish, Aryn,” I say in my normal voice. “If you try to give her a bath without it, she’ll scream bloody murder, so make sure to never lose it.”
When tears sting my eyes, I decide to wrap it up. “We love you,” I say before I tap the button to stop recording.
Ayli stops playing when shifting her focus to my watery eyes. “Ah!” she coos up at me, and I pretend that she’s ordering me to stop, so I do.
“I’m not crying,” I insist with a smile. “He’ll come back,” I tell her. “Right?”
Without responding to me, Ayli brings the fish up to her mouth.
“He’ll come back.”
I hate airports. Loathe them.
Traveling is a necessity in my line of work, so I’ve been to what seems like all of them. They’re all the same, filled with a bunch of rude people, pushing and shoving to get to where they’re going.
Foreigners, businesspeople, and families with whiny children, vacationers—I’ve seen it all. And I hate them all.
Today’s different. I’m looped in with the rest of these assholes, waiting anxiously.
I pace the floor as I wait for Aryn to come through the gate, growing more impatient by the second. I pace when I’m nervous. I’m nervous because I have no idea how he’ll react to seeing me.
It’ll go one of two ways. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ or ‘My God, it’s great to see you!’ I’m hoping it’ll be great to see me, because I can’t take both the Andrews children being mad at me.
I’m also nervous because I have no idea what I’m going to say when I see him. I haven’t talked to Ari since she left me standing outside the tower. I almost called her a handful of times last night, and again this morning, but I wasn’t ready to listen to her yell at me again.
When a fresh batch of passengers come passing through the gate, I stop pacing to look for Aryn. I’ve done this a total of five times so far. He better be part of this group.
Fanny-pack-wearing travelers, men and women in wrinkly suits, and exhausted families all come filing out.
I nearly give up hope, and then I see him.
Fucking finally!
“Move.” I shove a guy out of the way before heading in Aryn’s direction.
The Aryn I used to know was always so full of life. The man I see, just a little ways away from me now… he’s worn and battered. He stares at the floor when he walks. Aryn never did that; he always carried himself with confidence, shoulders back and head held high.
Jesus…
“Aryn,” I call to him.
Aryn stops and looks over his shoulder, to his left, and then to his right.
I whistle loudly before shouting, “Hey, number eleven!” making it clearer which direction to look this time.
Aryn stares dead ahead, his eyes peeling back further when landing on me. “Caleb?” His feet move hesitantly, at first, and then he picks up his pace. “What the hell?”
Oh, no.
“My God, it’s great to see you!”
Oh, good.
Aryn throws an arm around me when he gets close enough, clapping a hand hard against my back. I do the same. Then he pulls back to look at me, small traces of shock still lingering in his eyes. “Did you just get in?”
“No, I actually got in last week. Work thing.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Not too long, just until the end of next week.”
Aryn nods understandingly, but I feel guilty. I wish I had more time. “That’s another week and a half. We should take advantage of some of that time,” he suggests.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I had my schedule cleared.” I scratch the back of my head, and I divert my gaze to his empty hands. “You checked your luggage?”
“Just one suitcase.”
“Let’s go get it.” I gesture for him to lead the way. “You didn’t order car service or anything like that, did you?”
Aryn shakes his head. “No, I was going to just take a cab home.”
“Not anymore, I have a car.”
In the short time it takes for us to collect his case, Aryn doesn’t mention Kayli or Ayli to me. Not once.
No matter how long it’s been, having a kid is a huge deal. Then to lose your wife… all of it is something worth mentioning to a friend, even if we’ve been a sucky one to each other these past few years.
I have no right to judge my friend, but I can’t deny the disappointment.
It’s become a pattern on this trip. I keep finding myself in disappointing situations. Hopefully that’ll change soon. Leaving for LA won’t feel right until I do.
I propose the idea of going to grab a few drinks before I take him home. Aryn agrees.
After what little I’ve learned these past few days, my guess is that he’s trying to avoid going home.
That disappoints me, too.
We thank the cute waitress when she brings us our drinks, and I get so nervous that I down the entire contents of my imported brew before gathering the courage to speak first.
“How’ve you been? You look like shit.” I cup my hand around the lower part of my face, indicating the small beard he had going on. “How was your climb up Mount Everest?” I tease.
“Fuck you,” he laughs.
I chuckle, only briefly, before I ask again. “Seriously, Aryn, how are you doing?” I try my damnedest not to sound too sympathetic.
Aryn catches on to where I’m heading without me having to actually say. “You heard about Kayli,” he states without a hint of a question in his tone.
“Yea.” I fail to mask the sadness in mine.
The scolding Ari gave me last night got
me thinking. She’s right, I don’t know the first thing about his situation. I can’t even begin to imagine what he must be feeling. I know better than anyone how much he loved that girl. I saw their relationship unfold, I watched it grow, but she watched it die. I crossed a line at dinner. I had no right to judge anyone. I wasn’t thinking.
“Yea, well…” He looks down at the bottle in his hands, rubbing his thumb across the label. “I’m doing about as well as anyone in my position could be doing, Caleb. It fucking sucks, what can I say?”
“Aryn, it’s me.” I eye him with a pleading look. “You don’t need to pretend to have it together. I genuinely want to know how you’re holding up.”
Inhaling deeply through his nose while looking off to the side, we sit in awkward silence for what seems like hours. The waitress came to check on us, left to fetch me a fresh bottle, and then came right back to serve it to me, all in the time it takes me to come up with another way to broach the subject.
“I came to New York for casting calls. We are recruiting models for my designer’s new line,” I tell him, even though he didn’t ask. He barely acknowledges what I’m saying, just offers me a slight nod.
“I saw her, Aryn,” I say gently.
Aryn meets my eyes again, finally. “Ari?”
I hang my head to the side, fixing him with a look of disbelief. How long is he going to pretend that Ayli simply does not exist?
“Ayli, Aryn. I saw Ayli,” I clarify, and his face sort of pales. “She’s beautiful. Looks just like you and Ari…”
Nothing. He says nothing.
Losing my will to remain quiet and careful, I come back more forcefully this time. “You know what neglect can do to a child, Aryn. You’ve seen it firsthand. Why the hell would you do this to Ayli? What has she done to deserve this from you?”
Pissed level: Ten. I’ve offended him, as I aimed to do. It’s not the smartest approach, but I’d like to get an honest reaction from him before I go.
Aryn leans forward, pointing a finger against the tabletop. “Until you get married and lose a wife, you don’t get to say that shit to me, Caleb. Fuck you for throwing that in my face. What the hell do you know about loss?”
It feels like a smack in the face. On the one hand, he’s right. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a wife. I don’t know what it’s like to be in any type of committed relationship, really. On the other hand, he’s dead wrong. Because I do know loss.
“You’re right, Aryn. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a wife,” I accept, first and foremost. “But I do know that the beginning stages of a child’s life are the most crucial. The person Ayli will become is entirely up to you. Whether she’ll be a happy or a tortured kid will be entirely on you. Do you want to be the man who fucks that up for her?”
Aryn flags down our waitress and orders something stronger, an entire bottle of it.
“One parent is better than none,” I tell him, refusing to let up. He shoots me a warning glare from across the table.
They say that time can’t break the bond between best friends. That all the time in the world can pass, and it’ll be like nothing’s ever changed when you come face to face with your friend again.
That’s how this reunion feels; it’s why I’m being so tough on him, because I feel comfortable enough to do so. Only the friend that sits before me now isn’t the guy I used to know, not at all. The guy I knew had sense. He was smart. This guy is completely fucking lost.
I don’t care if we get into a screaming match in the middle of this bar. Hell, I don’t care if he punches me square in the jaw. If he wakes the fuck up from whatever the hell this is, it’ll be worth it.
I unbutton the front of my jacket and lean forward. “Your parents and your sister may walk on egg shells around you, but that isn’t me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You think Ari can play mommy at home with your baby girl? She’s got the rest of her life to figure out, but she put it on hold to ensure that someone will be around to love your flesh and blood. That’s your job, Aryn. Not Ari’s. She’s supposed to be the cool, fun aunt, but instead, she’s playing the role of three different fucking people while waiting for you to come to your senses! Have you lost your damn mind?”
I’m surprised that Aryn hasn’t swung at me yet. I expected about five different punches in the middle of my rant, but luckily for me, I got none.
A little relieved, I must say.
The waitress returns with a full tray, setting everything down neatly between us, then she eyes us warily when sensing the tension in the air and scurries off.
Aryn pours out two fingers of scotch into both glasses, sliding one to me.
“I’m driving,” I say, rejecting what I assume is his peace offering.
“It takes a hell of a lot more than that to get you drunk, Carlisle. Have a drink with me. Pick it up.” Aryn swirls the amber liquid around slowly in his glass while waiting patiently for me to do the same. I do. Then he slides his glass over and clinks it against mine.
We sip. We stare. We’re silent.
Aryn’s the first to speak up. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that again,” he warns.
Unfazed, I stand by my argument. “Someone’s got to look out for Ari and Ayli.”
“They’re not yours to look after. They’re my family.”
I immediately take offense to the tone he takes when claiming them as his own, like I don’t matter. “And mine,” I declare.
“Yea? And where the hell have you been lately?” he snaps with a bitter comeback.
“Building an empire, Aryn. What the fuck have you done lately?” I counter.
Still no punch, but he’s staring at me like he wants to end me. “You don’t think I think about them every second of the day?”
“I don’t know, Aryn. No one does. You don’t talk to anyone anymore.” I stare back at him. “I get that I’ve been gone a while, and I regret that so much now, but it doesn’t mean I care about you guys any less. So don’t ever pull that shit with me again,” I growl.
A regretful look flashes in Aryn’s eyes when he realizes he’s in the wrong. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that,” he admits, casting his gaze down to the glass in his hand.
I accept his version of an apology with a nod, and I offer him one, too. God knows it’s long overdue. “I’m sorry that I’m too late, and I’m slightly pissed that you didn’t reach out to me. I should’ve been here for you, there’s no excuse for that.”
Aryn shakes his head. “You had your own life to live, Caleb. You dropping everything to come here wouldn’t have changed a thing. It wouldn’t have brought her back to me. I needed to be alone.”
“What the hell happened, Aryn? Why are you avoiding Ayli?”
His glass comes back up, and he sips from it. “I don’t blame her for Kayli, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I release a sigh of relief. “I was hoping you didn’t—”
“But what if I do?” he interjects.
“What?”
“What if I hold my daughter, look into her eyes, and…” He doesn’t finish. He physically stops himself from speaking the words. “Ayli was conceived out of love. She’s the single most precious gift Kayli’s ever given me. But I’m terrified that a second with her can destroy everything.”
I’m not following, at all. “How’s that?”
“The moment I first held Ayli was Kayli’s last. She was just gone. I haven’t held Ayli since because I can’t stand the connection between those two moments. It’s tainted. I don’t want my mind going there when I’m holding my daughter. I wouldn’t know how to live with myself if I ever blamed her, even a fraction, for something she had no control over.”
“Aryn…” I shake my head at him. “You would never do that.”
“How do you know that? Can you swear it? Can you be absolutely certain that I wouldn’t? That I’m not capable of thinking such horrible, ugly things?” he counters with a string of impossible que
stions.
All this uncertainty in his ability to be a good parent pisses me off. It brings up a lot of bad shit that I thought I’d blocked out.
You’re not born a good parent. You do everything in your power to give your child what it needs, and you hope for the fucking best. Your kids are born to love and worship you. As long as you do your job, you’re their hero.
“I love my daughter, Caleb. My only wish is for her to be forever happy and healthy. What if I fuck that up for her?”
“You mean more than you already have?” I retort. “I don’t have all the answers to your questions, Aryn, but I promise you that pushing her away is not the answer. Living in the same house while keeping yourself emotionally detached won’t mean shit. You want her to be happy? How’s she supposed to do that without her father? Ari is doing her best to keep Ayli happy for now, but how long will that last? What happens when Ayli wakes up one day and asks about her mother? Ari will be forced to tell her what happened, but how do you imagine that conversation will go? Ayli may end up doing exactly what you’re trying to avoid now; she may blame herself for what happened anyway. You are the only person she will listen to when told that none of this was her fault, and that these things sometimes happen to even the happiest families. How are you going to do that if you cop out now? How Ayli lost her mother was an accident, but if you continue with this shit, she would have lost her father because of a choice he made out of fear. When she gets old enough to understand that, she will hate you. I promise you. I swear it.”
I’m just finishing up loading the dishwasher when I hear keys in the lock. I look at the time on the stove and see that it’s a little past ten when the door opens.
My heart’s pounding so hard in my chest, I’m sure Ayli can feel it against her cheek. I bring my hands up to cuddle the back of her head, and she turns her eyes up to look at me.
“Daddy’s home,” I whisper down to her with a hopeful smile.
Every time Ayli and I end up in the same room as Aryn, I find myself hoping that’ll be the exact moment he comes around. I pray that he’ll say something, anything, and then I die a little for Ayli when he doesn’t.
