The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series)

by Georgina Guthrie

  I smiled at the thought of Brad impersonating his grandmother. I imagined Brad and Penny laughed a hell of a lot together. If only Daniel and I could have as much fun. I braced myself and carefully broached the topic.

  “So have you spoken to Daniel this morning?” I asked.

  “Are you joking? He knows better than to call me when Coronation Street is on.” I laughed, and she groaned with embarrassment. “I know it’s terrible. It’s my guilty pleasure. Always makes me feel like my life is totally sorted when I see that lot buggering everything up.”

  “I don’t know, Penny. I wouldn’t think you’d need to compare your life to a soap opera to know things are going pretty damn well for you right now. Brad’s awesome, you’re about to move into a new house, planning the wedding…”

  I was rambling. I didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t spoken to Daniel, so she had no clue that we’d had a disagreement. Should I tell her or gloss it over? I remembered my words to her from the night before.

  I have no intention of hurting him, Penny. You have my word on that.

  Nope. There was no way I was mentioning our argument.

  “Well, listen,” she said. “I didn’t call to natter on at you. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Hopefully we’ll see you again soon?”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see her again. I couldn’t bear to admit the fact to myself. Not only was I becoming emotionally tied to Daniel, I was also getting seriously attached to his family.

  We hung up, and I continued my internal debate. Every time I considered phoning Daniel, I’d see his hurt and angry expression and hear him saying, “Whatever? That’s nice.” A complete coward, I dreaded facing his antipathy. There would be no avoiding him on Monday. I would wait to see what the next day would bring.

  Instead I called Julie, flopping on my bed and listening to her rave about Jeremy. Despite my misery, I responded to her stories enthusiastically.

  “I told you he was awesome, Jul. You really like him?”

  “He’s so cute. We seem to have a lot of common interests. Music, art…he’s a graphic designer. How cool is that?”

  “Sounds like someone’s smitten.”

  “I only talked to him for a couple of hours. I’ll update you after our date tonight.”

  “So you do have a date already? You get him, babe.”

  “Aubrey, darling, I don’t chase. I replace. I’m letting him do the chasing.”

  “Well said, girlfriend.”

  Very well said. In fact, I wished she’d shared this nugget of wisdom with me before I’d been so pushy with Daniel in the back of that cab. I would’ve saved myself a whole lot of grief.

  When the conversation turned to me and Daniel, I quickly decided against sharing the details of our squabble. As far as Julie was concerned, Daniel and I hadn’t ventured into any sort of romantic territory yet. How would I explain that I’d been pissed off because he wouldn’t take me home for a tumble between the sheets? Plus, Daniel would be angry if he knew I was airing the personal details of our relationship. So once again I resorted to half-truths, and once again, I hated myself for it.

  Before hanging up we made plans to go out for dinner on Tuesday night at the Madison House, an opportunity to have some time to talk properly. Maybe by then Daniel and I would have everything resolved so I could go back to giggling and swooning over his beautiful eyes and fabulous ass.

  Going to work on Monday morning should have provided a welcome distraction from my incessant thoughts about Daniel, but every time I looked at Dean Grant’s face I remembered Daniel’s wounded expression and sad eyes. No, my job was officially the least effective diversion. At nine o’clock, Dean Grant left for his weekly coffee meeting with his son. As for me, I wouldn’t see Daniel until noon—three more hours of uncertainty.

  When he returned a little after nine thirty, Dean Grant headed straight for his office, and I went about my work, trying not to obsess about the upheaval the afternoon might bring. At eleven o’clock, the interoffice mailman arrived with the Vic mailbag. He hefted it onto the front counter.

  “Good morning, Aubrey. Here you go. It’s a heavy one today.”

  “Thanks, Ned. Have a good day!” I called after him as he turned and pushed the door open with a parting wave.

  I separated the mail into piles. When I reached the bottom of the bag, I came a across a package—a padded manila envelope with a typed label on the front: AUBREY PRICE - PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL. I quickly tore open the sealed envelope and peered inside to find a note typed on plain white paper. I sat down at my desk to read it.

  Aubrey,

  We need to talk. I’ve been thinking a lot, and not just because of what happened on Saturday. We have some important things to discuss. Today is a write-off, and tonight I have a faculty event to attend. I know you have classes most of the day tomorrow. Can we meet after your French lecture? I hope we can find time to get together. I’d rather not discuss these issues on the phone.

  As for what’s enclosed, I was careless and I lost your gloves. I’m sorry. I’ve replaced them. I’m hoping you’ll have an easier time keeping track of these ones! Unfortunately I worry that more than your gloves was lost on Saturday, and I fear we won’t be able to rectify that loss quite as easily. As for the other item I’ve included, I don’t know if you still want it. It didn’t seem to bring me much luck on Saturday. Your choice. I hope you’ll spare me a few moments of your time this afternoon to arrange a meeting. ~D

  I dug around inside the envelope and pulled out a soft pair of chenille gloves. They were striped in multiple bright colors—loud, but cute. Daniel was right. They would be difficult to overlook. I slipped them on. They were very cozy. I was in the midst of rereading the note when Dean Grant strode out of his office to refill his coffee cup. He looked at me, sitting at my desk, wearing the outlandish striped gloves, and clutching the piece of paper.

  “Cold?” he asked, chuckling.

  I smiled and took the gloves off, folded the note, and placed it casually back inside the envelope with the gloves.

  “They’re a gift from a friend. It’s a long story.”

  “They go perfectly with your outfit,” he joked. “I have some calls to make, and I know you’re off shortly. Lock up for lunch, and I’ll see you on Wednesday, all right?”

  He returned to his office and closed the door behind him. I scanned the note again, trying to gauge the tone. It wasn’t particularly warm. In fact, the more I read over his words, the more ominous they sounded. Reading between the lines, the words “break-up” came into focus. There was no indication of affection—no endearments. There wasn’t even an XO at the end.

  I took a deep breath and reached into the envelope to look at the other item he’d mentioned. It was his black T-shirt. I closed my eyes and held the shirt to my face, a thousand thoughts and feelings rushing through me as I took in Daniel’s essence—man and soap and cologne. Sandalwood.

  Daniel.

  Surely this was a good sign. If he wanted to cut ties, would he have given me something as intimate as a piece of clothing? That was doubtful. So, what did he want to talk about? Perhaps he wanted to clarify how things needed to be from now on? That I could handle. Even if he chastised me for being immature, I could cope. I would defend myself and call attention to the unfairness of his own inconsistent behavior, but I could certainly be big enough to apologize for speaking impulsively and hurting him in the process.

  If he was still interested in pursuing something, perhaps I ought to make some conditions of my own. Maybe it would be a good idea to pull back a little. It was too difficult to have the carrot dangled in front of me, just out of reach. I was only human, after all—a human who was simply not strong enough to resist the charms of Daniel Grant.

  When I arrived in the classroom, Julie was already in our spot in the second row, rapidly texting someone. I settled into my chair, peering nosily at the tiny
screen.

  “Things went well with Jeremy last night, I see?”

  “Amazing,” she said, smiling and continuing to tap at her phone.

  “You know, this blossoming relationship with Jeremy is going to have serious health implications. I hope you’ve read up on carpal tunnel syndrome because you are headed down that path, young lady,” I scolded her.

  She puckered her lips. “Zip it, Aubrey,” she said, not missing a beat in her rapid-fire text conversation.

  “What happened to ‘I don’t chase, I replace’?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Now that I’m getting to know him better, I realized I’m full of shit.”

  I stifled a laugh and she rolled her eyes, finishing her last message and pocketing her phone.

  “Hey, those are awesome gloves! They’d go well with this,” she said, pulling her rainbow-colored hat out of her sleeve.

  “Well, you can’t have them. They were a gift from someone special,” I said coyly, clutching them tightly against my chest. I was aiming for playful nonchalance, but I knew Daniel was going to walk through the door any moment, and I was a bundle of nerves. I stuffed the gloves securely in my backpack. I’d be damned if I was going to lose them.

  “I see,” she said, tapping her chin with her pen.

  When Daniel and Professor Brown arrived, Daniel sat in his usual spot. He was tired and scruffy-looking, almost as unkempt as he’d been at the beginning of the semester. My heart went out to him. Was he suffering as much as I was?

  Professor Brown waited for everyone to settle and then launched into his lecture, repeating his instructions to have Othello read for Wednesday. A few groans and grumbles erupted around the room. I tried to catch Daniel’s eye, but he didn’t look up. In fact, he was wholly preoccupied. He appeared to be doodling, of all things.

  I was distracted for the better part of the hour as well, frequently losing my focus to glance at Daniel. At one point, I saw him staring at someone on the other side of the room. I followed his gaze and caught Shawn looking at me. Shawn blushed when our eyes met, then he cleared his throat and made a great show of turning the page in his notebook. Daniel then glanced at me, face impassive, almost vacant. I gave him a small smile, but instead of returning the gesture, he dropped his eyes to his notepad and resumed scribbling.

  Things were not boding well.

  As Professor Brown concluded the lecture forty-five agonizing minutes later, he turned to see if Daniel had anything he wanted to say. Daniel stood and pulled a pile of papers from his bag.

  “I have the Hamlet papers for those of you who completed the comparative analysis of the text and the live performance. If any of you have questions, feel free to make an appointment since I have to head off to tutorial in a few moments. I’ll leave them here. That’s all for me for today.”

  Daniel fanned out the assignments on the front table, and Professor Brown waved and left the room. Everyone dispersed, many picking up their papers before heading for the door. Daniel stepped off the platform and walked toward us, nodding briefly at Julie before turning to look at me.

  “Miss Price, if you could spare a moment, we should talk briefly about that issue you’ve been struggling with,” he said coolly.

  “Of course,” I replied, trying to mimic his calmness.

  He returned to the table to collect his things. Cara and Lindsay moved down the aisle to head for the door, but before leaving, Cara looked back at me over her shoulder with a knowing expression.

  Julie turned to me anxiously. “What was that all about?” she whispered, gesturing to the departing pinheads.

  “I don’t know. The girl is a frigging nut job. Don’t worry about it. Listen, things are crazy for me the next couple of days, so you might not hear from me, but we’ll meet at the Maddy at six thirty tomorrow night, okay? Say hi to Jeremy for me.”

  “I will. See you tomorrow.” She squeezed my hand briefly. “Have a nice chat,” she added, smiling conspiratorially before leaving.

  A nice chat? That was looking doubtful.

  There were still a few people milling around, reading over their essays, presumably trying to determine if they had anything they wanted to ask questions about, but I approached the front table anyway. Daniel assessed me, his face an indecipherable mask. I met his gaze levelly, trying to maintain an equally impassive expression.

  Look at the two of us, trying to one-up each other with our indifference. What was that old saying? “Pride goeth before the fall.” The only point of contention was which one of us was going to hit the ground first. As the silence stretched out before us, I realized someone was going to have to buckle. I decided to take the plunge.

  “How are you, Daniel?”

  “I’ve been better, Miss Price,” he replied, pulling himself up to his full height and jamming his hands in his jeans pockets.

  “Right. Well, um, I appreciate your willingness to work through those difficulties you mentioned,” I said, aware that we had an audience.

  “Yes, I think I have some ideas about how the problem can be resolved.” He was being equally obscure. “Unfortunately, today is completely spoken for. How’s tomorrow, say, after three o’clock?”

  I was about to answer when my two remaining classmates moved past the desk.

  “Thanks, Daniel. This is all good. See you on Wednesday,” the dark-haired guy said as he ambled past the podium and out the door. Now we were alone.

  I turned back to look at Daniel.

  “Sorry, Daniel, I have a study meeting with some people from my French class. We have a group presentation to plan. I have no idea how long it will take.”

  He frowned. I got the distinct impression he thought I was lying, trying to put off our meeting. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

  “What about in the evening? Maybe after dinner? I’m sorry to push this, Aubrey, but we need to talk. I don’t want to protract this, and I really don’t want to do this over the phone.”

  Protract what? Do what over the phone? This was sounding bad.

  “Yes, I know, you indicated as much in your note,” I said.

  “Oh, good, you got the package? I wasn’t sure I’d gotten it into the courier on time this morning, and I wanted you to have those gloves before you walked over from Vic.”

  I imagined him rushing to the campus mail room first thing this morning to have the envelope deposited into the Vic mailbag and was touched by his thoughtfulness. My icy wall crumbled.

  “Thanks for the gloves. You didn’t have to do that. It was as much my fault as yours that they got left behind on Saturday, but I appreciate it. And thanks for the T-shirt, too.” I smiled at him sadly, and this time he returned my smile with a wistful one of his own.

  “Well, regardless of everything else, I still wanted you to have it,” he admitted, his tone softening slightly as well.

  Regardless of everything else?

  “So, tomorrow evening you don’t have a night class if I remember correctly. Can you spare an hour or so to talk then?”

  “Julie and I are going out for dinner. There’s no way I’m canceling after the argument we had on Saturday. That would be adding insult to injury, don’t you think?”

  “No, you’re right. I wouldn’t ask that of you.” He glanced at his watch, clearly agitated. “Listen, I have to get downstairs. Walk with me?”

  We headed to the hall, and he locked the classroom door behind us. He stopped at the top of the stairs, speaking in a low voice.

  “What about after your dinner with Julie? Do you think you’ll be finished by eight thirty or nine? I could pick you up. We could go for a drive…or something,” he said.

  “That might work. We’re going to the Madison House. I could text you when we’re almost done.”

  “That sounds perfect. I’ll go to Robarts Library, do some work, and then come get you. I’ll wait in the car for you.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” I said, grappling with my coat as we made our way down the stairs.
>
  “Do you need some help?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve got it.” I slid my hand ineffectually up and down the lining of my coat several times.

  “Here.” He stopped on the bottom stair and grabbed the side of my coat while gently guiding my arm into the sleeve.

  His voice, now so warm, his touch, so tender, almost brought tears to my eyes. He stepped off the bottom stair and turned to look at me, our faces level.

  “I’ve made an important decision, Aubrey,” he said, almost inaudibly. “It’ll be good to talk this all through.”

  Panic coiled in my stomach, but I tried to remain calm.

  “I feel terrible about what happened on Saturday, but it crystallized some things in my mind, too. We have a lot to talk about.”

  He searched my face for a moment, and then he sighed. “I have to go.”

  “Of course. You’ve got a room full of people waiting for you.”

  I needed him to go. If he kept standing there I’d be in his arms, begging him not to leave. I was beyond desperate for resolution. I had to know, one way or another, what the hell was going on with us.

  “Okay. Well, have a good couple of days,” he said at last.

  “I’ll try. You too.”

  My hand itched to move toward his. I made myself remain still as he slowly turned and retreated, jamming both hands in his pockets as he rounded the corner. I had to take a few deep breaths to calm myself. When my phone buzzed in my coat pocket, I thought it might be a text from Daniel, typed quickly as he’d walked to the seminar room—some word of affection, some sign of hope.

  It wasn’t. It was a text from Julie.

  It was strange seeing all of his casual, uninterested glances now that I know everything.

  So weird having inside scoop. Ttyl gf. -J

  I grimaced. While she might have been right about Daniel’s demeanor in the past weeks, today I didn’t know how much effort was actually required for him to look indifferent. I carefully typed in a vague response.