Heart Stronger

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Slumped over Aiken’s shoulder, placing chaste kisses on his shoulder blade, I heard him whisper in my ear, “This is it for me, Claire. You’re it. You’re everything.”

  A deserving response eluded me. Instead, I let my silent acceptance of the gravity of his words speak for themselves.

  Yet, he was everything I’d never imagined.

  Later, in front of a roaring fire, glass of wine in my hand, my belly full of fresh fish and roasted vegetables Aiken had bought at the market, I leaned back into his chest. I was sitting between his legs, both of us on the floor, his back to the sofa, Smitty at our feet.

  Aiken pulled my hair to the side and kissed the side of my neck, and goose bumps prickled my skin.

  I was dressed in nothing more than an extra-large T-shirt of Aiken’s and lace panties. No bra, no pants, no makeup, no perfume. Nothing. Just me.

  “Really like the shower here,” he said, reminding me of our predinner activities. “I can’t do what I did to you here when we get back home. Not enough room. And the two shower heads…”

  “Hmm.” I continued to nuzzle deep into his chest, my eyes at half-mast as he assaulted my neck with feather kisses.

  “We should put one in your house.”

  “I haven’t done one thing to the house in years,” I mumbled.

  “You should. Make it more about you.”

  “I never wanted to change things, not since…”

  “I figured, but maybe it’s time. Time for Claire.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but he placed a long kiss below my ear, and chills ran up my spine. It felt too damn good and distracted me from the pain pumping through my veins.

  “Maybe I’ll put one in my house, and you can use it anytime you want. Maybe one day, you’ll even think about moving in? With me? Starting over?”

  This knocked me out of my haze. Sitting up faster than warranted, I shifted onto my knees and turned to face Aiken. “No, I can’t do that. Don’t ask me to do that. Start over or anything. Move in with you…” My words were fragments, shattered like my heart.

  His hands up in front of him, he said, “Okay, okay. Calm down. I was being playful. I won’t say anything more. I was caught up in the moment. I thought it was appropriate.”

  “Well, it’s not. It’s not ever going to be. I’m not leaving the house where Abby lived.”

  I saw red. My mind felt as if it had snapped in half.

  Why was I so prickly over changing things?

  I stood up and snapped my fingers for Smitty to come with me. Snagging the leash by the door, I was fuming.

  “I’m sorry. Really.” He stood to face me, the fire sputtering out behind him. “I thought we were in a different place, but maybe it’s just me. I just don’t want you to stay stuck forever.”

  “I don’t care if I’m stuck. That’s me. That’s my life. I never hid that from you. Never.” I held Smitty’s leash taut at my side. He sat like the faithful soldier he once was. My dog.

  “Abby’s room is still…”

  “Don’t say it, Aiken. I know her room, and I like it the way it is. I don’t need you to point any of this out to me. That’s my place. Not yours.”

  I flung open the door.

  “Where are you going? It’s dark…let me come with.”

  “Aiken, I’m a grown-ass woman. I’ve lived on my own for over a decade. I’m taking a walk with my dog to cool down, and I don’t need you to come.”

  “Do you have your phone?”

  “Christ, with the phone. I’ll be fine.” I walked out the door.

  Aiken wanted me to move on, and I wasn’t sure I could do that—ever.

  Abby wasn’t coming back. But I’d never believed I could be happy…after she was gone.

  Claire

  Fall semester began, my tan clinging for dear life. The afterglow of a few days away was a salve I hadn’t known existed. Even with our fight, the trip had been like a magical unicorn.

  I’d put Aiken’s suggestions aside, pretending he hadn’t said them. And he didn’t dare bring them up again.

  We’d had incredible morning-after-the-fight sex, taking our time, speaking our apologies with our bodies, and moved on to less-stressful conversations, like the weather and food. We also took walks on the beach, holding hands, and roamed the farmers’ market, stopping to kiss and whisper sweet nothings.

  From the outside, our interaction looked idyllic.

  Yet, it was a classic case of avoidance and denial. I may have been the only one who knew the correct terminology, but we both knew what we were doing.

  Happy to be back at Frable, I was teaching three sections—two Introduction to Human Development, one Advanced Developmental Psychology with Adolescents—and proctoring a small group of grad students finishing their research projects. I was also applying for a grant to do some research of my own. I hadn’t done that in years, but I was inspired to help others.

  Maybe because of Aiken’s harsh words combined with his giving heart? Maybe I was healing? I didn’t know. Either way, I was trying to get some national funding for a teen-pregnancy project.

  I desperately wanted to be able to say all this to him. Explain maybe he’d been right, but I was too proud.

  Aiken had finished up the project for Juicey’s and picked up two more clients, but I knew his time in Pennsylvania would eventually come to an end. He’d given no indication, but he seemed to love his father and being on a farm. Not to mention my childlike behavior. I imagined he’d put up with me for only so much longer.

  We ate together most nights, and it didn’t feel strangling or suffocating.

  We slept together most nights too. Always at my place, Abby’s intact room looming down the hall.

  Smitty was smitten with Aiken. As for me, I was smitten as much, if not more.

  But there was no convincing me that this relationship didn’t have a shelf life.

  Still fearful it would end abruptly, I decided to take a Friday night off and head out with Mary.

  I met her at happy hour, something else I hadn’t done in a long time—better to be all-in than half-baked. At least, that’s what the therapist version of myself told my inner psyche.

  “Hurry up.” Mary waved at me from the back bar at Juicey’s, of all places—her suggestion, not mine.

  “Hi,” I said as she lugged a huge tote off an empty stool.

  “These pricks weren’t going to let me hold this stool forever. This place is such a pigfest.”

  “Pretty sure you’re the one who wanted to come here.”

  “Chalk it up to wanting to recapture my youth. Now I want to leave my youth right where it is. In my past.”

  “I could’ve told you that. Anyway, it’s cool to see the new logo.” I pointed above the bar. There was a caricature of a male orange kissing a caricature of a female lemon, Juicey’s in bold red script above them. It was super cute, especially since I’d watched Aiken transform the clip art into the exact logo.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re so proud of your boy toy.”

  “Stop with that.” I gave Mary the stink-eye and called for the bartender. “Hey.”

  “White wine, whatever’s on special.”

  “My pleasure,” he said with a wink.

  “See, these young guys are drawn to you like a baby to the tit.”

  “That is not a good analogy. Not at all. Not one bit. In fact, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.”

  “I got you the first time. I don’t need multiple explanations. So, how is lover boy?”

  With her fire-engine-red lips, she took a sip of what I guessed was vodka and cranberry and pushed her hair behind her ear before staring me down. “Spill,” she demanded.

  “Things are good. I’m happy to be back to a full schedule. Classes are great except for freaking Abbie…you know the student you keep pushing on me? Now she wants a piece of my research project if I get the grant. I don’t even know how she found out about it.”

  Not looking at me, she said, “Th
is isn’t what I wanted to hear about.”

  “Ugh, I should’ve known you were the one to tell her.”

  “It’s Friday night. I don’t want to talk shop.”

  She raised her slim arm and motioned for another drink.

  “Your arms look amazing. I should try your trainer.”

  “Claire, don’t you dare think flattery is going to make me forget I want to hear about your stud muffin.”

  “Okay, okay.” I swiveled to face my cross-examiner, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned close. “He’s good. Very, very good. Good at cooking. Great at making me laugh, touching, basically everything. He lights my fire, makes me all tingly. I’m not myself when I’m with him. I feel alive, excited for tomorrow and the next day. I’m anxiously awaiting the moment my bubble bursts, but I guess until then, I’m having a good ol’ time.”

  “Not every bubble bursts.”

  “Mine do. They always do, and when this one does, it’ll split me in half. I’ve never felt this kind of connection before. Not even with David.”

  “Oh, please, Claire, this could be your epic. Your love of a lifetime.”

  “So, how are Pat and the kids?” I wanted to change the subject. Focusing on my impending doom hurt my head.

  “Bringing them up is like bursting my bubble. Pat’s the same. Handsome, aging well, making the big bucks, but completely out of it when it comes to what’s going on at home. Thank God for Marissa. Without her, I’d be stuck at home.”

  “You better get her an amazing Christmas gift. If you lose her, you’re screwed.”

  “Amen.”

  I polished off my wine and motioned for another.

  “Anything for you,” the bartender said, which set Mary off into a fit of laughter. “He didn’t say that to me.”

  “Shut it.”

  With a fresh drink, I asked, “Are you happy with Pat, Mar? I’m worried about you. I know you always slough it off, but really? Are you?”

  She knocked back the rest of her drink. “I don’t know anymore. I can’t believe I finally said it aloud.” She whispered the last part, closing her eyes. “I just don’t know. Fifteen years ago, he was everything I wanted. Polished, collared shirts, good job, money, sex…but now, it’s bland. Forget that our sex life is almost nonexistent…he’s all about himself. His job, his house, his car. All the while, I work like a dog, handle everything with Marissa and take care of the kids when she’s not there.”

  “I don’t know what the answer is, but I do know you deserve to be deliriously happy. You’re a good one, Mar.”

  “Thanks.” She tapped my knee. “Now, let’s forget we even talked about this and get a third drink and have some fun. Marissa is staying late tonight because she’s off tomorrow.”

  Waiting for the bartender, I worried about Mary. She was too stoic, too protective of her asshole husband, too good for this shit.

  We made some small talk about the new staff at the registrar’s office, and halfway through our third drink, Mary looked up and cocked her head. Following her gaze, I saw what, I mean who, caught her eye—Aiken.

  He was at a table by the door, a two-top with high-backed stools, two drinks in front of him and one curvy blonde across from him. He took a sip of his beer, oblivious to us, the blonde talking and gesturing like a crazy, ditzy specimen. Okay, maybe not crazy or ditzy. I didn’t mean to be mean, but I was having a hard time not.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. She probably plopped down in front of him, and what was he supposed to do?” Mary consoled me.

  “It’s fine, Mar. I knew I couldn’t hold on to him for forever.”

  She stared me down.

  “Except, I don’t want to go out now, but I can’t sit here all night. Someone has to let Smitty out. I came straight from campus, and now I’m stuck here in this predicament, stuttering and rambling like one of my students.”

  “You need to make sure he sees you saw him. Period. End of.”

  “Who are you? One of my students’ age too?”

  I ran my sweaty palms over my black pants. Of course, the blonde looked great in a low-cut tank and cutoff jean shorts. I was dressed for work—like the old maid I was.

  “Don’t look at yourself like that. I see what you’re doing, and I’m going to remind you how the bartender’s been drooling over you. Men like a woman in a power suit.”

  “This is like the millionth time I’ve had to tell you to shut it tonight.”

  “Come on, we’re walking out.”

  She took my arm and pulled me off the stool. If she hadn’t snagged it first, I would’ve forgotten my bag.

  Mary stopped by their two-top. “Aiken, hi! Fancy seeing you here.” She was going straight to hell for her acting job.

  “Hey, Mary.” He gave her a chin nod. “Claire.” He stood and gathered me close, his arm bringing me in tight against his waist.

  It was taking everything in me to stay upright. Four wines, and I was shocked I was standing. Leaning into him was about the last thing I wanted to do, but I did.

  “Love the new logo.” I flung my hand toward the bar.

  “It does look good.”

  “He designed it,” Mary explained to the blonde. “I’m Mary, by the way. This is Claire.” She pointed at me. “And you are?”

  “You’re Professor Richards, right?”

  I was either too drunk or not drunk enough for what was about to come. I couldn’t decide.

  “That’s me,” I said, Aiken’s hand still firmly planted behind my back.

  “I’m Allison, Abbie’s friend. She’s in your class or something, talks about you all the time. She showed me your bio on the Internet, said she wants to be like you someday. God, this is sounding a bit stalkerish.” She played with the tips of her hair. “She…Abbie…wants to be just like you, your job…you get what I mean?”

  “Abbie?” I said.

  “Right. Abbie.”

  “Abbie with an ie,” Aiken whispered into my hair. At least, I thought that was what he said.

  My brain was fuzzy, struggling to make sense of how this young woman knew me and wondering why Aiken was meeting with her and where Abbie fit into all of it. It was a labyrinth I couldn’t quite make it through.

  “Allison has some information about my mom.”

  “Oh yeah? She does? How did you two meet?” The questions flew out of my mouth in some sort of verbal diarrhea.

  “I’m from one town over, and my dad, I guess he knew Aiken’s mom a bit. When I met—”

  “What she means is she connected the dots around the time I started searching. Allison found me…on Facebook…to tell me a few memories of my mom. Not many.”

  Aiken and Allison were answering my questions, but their answers didn’t stack up. Either that, or the alcohol was going to my brain. I could’ve sworn Allison’s brow furrowed, but by that point, my brain was mush. My heart was pounding to the pulse of the heavy metal blaring in the background, or it could’ve been their bullshit radiating through me.

  I didn’t know for shit.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” was all I responded.

  “Nice is meeting you here.” His fingers tightened on my back. “Listen, Allison, do you mind if I take Claire home? We’ll chat soon.”

  All of a sudden, I remembered Mary was there.

  “I have to wait for Mary to grab an Uber. She lives far out. Not like me.”

  Her head was bobbing as she looked from one of us to the other, taking in the strange interaction. No doubt, I’d hear about it and her theories tomorrow morning.

  “Cool,” Allison said and stood on her tiptoes to give Aiken a hug. He barely took his one arm away from me, which was a good sign…but really? Was she hugging my guy?

  And was I really upset?

  How old was I? Twenty-one?

  No. Most certainly not.

  Claire

  My body was sticky with nervous sweat, so I welcomed the cooler fall air with open arms. Mary poked at her phone, presumably calling an Uber, but s
eemed to be taking a hell of a lot longer.

  “You okay? Did you text Pat?” I harassed her with questions, not focusing on the real problem at hand. I’d caught Aiken up to something. I didn’t know what, but something nonetheless.

  “I’m one hundred percent. You should go,” Mary whipped back. “In fact, this tough guy, right here, is going to watch out for me.” She hung from the bouncer’s neck, and he looked somewhat amused.

  “Ricky, you going to be okay with her? Make sure she gets to her ride,” Aiken called out.

  Of course, he knew him from working on the Juicey’s job.

  I hugged Mary, wanting to hold on to her for forever, before Aiken said, “Let’s go.”

  Like a lovestruck fool, I listened.

  “I know they said to make sure college girls get home safely. How about professors? You two really tied a quick one on.”

  “We’re really fine. You didn’t have to leave your cozy corner to take me home.”

  “Don’t do that. You’re too independent and beautiful of a woman to be jealous. It was nothing. She grew up close to Lewisburg. Her dad apparently knew my mom a bit in high school and then saw her a few times again later, I guess when she moved back.”

  “I know I’ve had a few drinks, but I can’t put it all together.”

  I searched my head for clues, something I was missing, but I came up with nothing. “How did Abbie from my class get involved with this?”

  “From what I gather, Abbie’s been fishing around for this single-dad project and roped Allison into getting her dad to give some commentary. You know she was apparently raised by a single dad? Abbie?”

  “She’s mentioned it to me.”

  Aiken held on to my elbow, steadying me and guiding me home.

  “Over dinner with Allison’s dad, she mentioned Professor Richards’ ‘new hottie’ and ‘googling the heck out of him’—her words, not mine. I have to agree, it sounds a bit stalkerish on her end. Anyway, Abbie said my name, and he said he knew the last name. Like Bruce did. He knew someone who married someone with that name. ‘It always stuck in his mind, was too distinguished for this woman,’ or something like that. Then he said something else like, ‘Jeannie was never quite right, yet everyone’s always been looking for her.’”