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Martha had been so smug about her story that she's given me pause. I hate to think it, but what she told me has planted a sliver of doubt in my brain. If it was something she was going to make up to get between us, I'm pretty sure she would have tried it long ago. She's not a very creative or particularly smart girl. Making up a story like this just doesn't seem to be her style – or within her mental wheelhouse.
Throwing it in my face and rubbing my nose in it like she did is exactly her style, though.
Wiping the tears from my face, I stand up and go to my closet. I pull my suitcases out and lay them on the bed. I open them up and start packing. In a strange way, I guess I should be thankful to Martha for showing me who Aaron really is. For showing me that he can't truly be trusted.
My phone rings on the bed. I look over, and it’s Aaron. I click Decline. I can’t talk to him right now.
I know I will, soon. I’ll have to explain to him that my mom died and that I’ll need to process it for a while. But not right now. Maybe Aaron screwing Martha is a blessing in disguise. At least I'll be able to move forward in my life completely unencumbered by my feelings for him. I can start fresh in everything.
I hate that it's come to this – that Martha finally got between us – but, maybe it's for the best.
* * * * *
“Nothing happened between Martha and I, Emily,” he declares. “I swear to you – she lied.”
Aaron pins me to my seat with his gaze, the intensity of it nearly overwhelming. I see such an earnest sincerity in his eyes. It’s so compelling I find myself believing him. All this time, I let myself believe Aaron slept with Martha – and why? Because she said they did? A girl who tried everything in the book to split us up? Why had I been so quick to believe her? Why had I doubted him when he'd been nothing but good to me? Oh, he could be annoying – and irritatingly persistent – at times, but he always treated me well.
And I'd thrown it all away because a jealous girl with a crush and a bad attitude told me what deep down, I guess I wanted to hear – confirmation of the fears and insecurities I kept bottled up inside of me. I think somewhere deep down, I never felt good enough for Aaron – or hell, maybe anybody, really – and Martha's story only served to drive that point home to me.
I don't know. Maybe this is all just garbage armchair psychology. All I know for certain is that, as I stare into Aaron's eyes and hear his words, I realize I was wrong to believe Martha.
“Why did you believe her in the first place?”
I shake my head. “I don't know,” I admit. “I mean, she told me the night I found out about my mom’s death. I wasn't thinking very clearly to start.”
Aaron nods, his lips compressed into a tight line, and says nothing. I'm sure it has to hurt him to hear that I'd believe the worst about him from a source as unreliable as Martha. Even after all this time, I can see that it still stings him.
I clear my throat and try to compose myself. Giving Aaron a tight smile, I drain the last of my wine and set the glass back down. There's a lull in the conversation. The air between us is charged with a strained tension that doesn't feel great. I'd been enjoying myself on this trip so far, but now things are coming off the rails.
It's my fault, of course. I opened this door and now I'm silently kicking my own ass for doing so. It's just that things between Aaron and I have been going well. There's a comfortable ease between us that I enjoy. And I find that some of the feelings I carried for him back at school haven't completely gone away. There are small flickers of those old emotions smoldering inside of me. And I guess I just need some answers from him, one way or the other, to reconcile everything going on in my heart and mind.
“Do you remember when you called me the next day? You were telling me all about your travel plans. I was trying to tell you that I needed to talk, but you weren’t even listening. You just kept going on and interrupting me, and even when I said I had something serious to talk about, you practically blew me off. You said that everything I had to talk about wasn’t as important as what you were talking about. That’s why I didn’t go with you to Europe.”
Aaron winces at that. Like he knows I’m right. I clearly struck a nerve there.
“If you want me to be honest,” I continue, “I suppose I believed her because it gave me an easier out. I mean, I already needed some space from you, but being able to believe that you'd betrayed me made it easier to just cut you off. It wasn’t just her. It hurt me a lot, the way you acted. You used to be really insensitive and shitty, you know.”
Aaron nods, his brow furrowed in a mix of what seems like confusion and regret. “I understand, Emily. And – I know it’s not much, but I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I guess I can understand why you were hurt,” he tells me. “But I wish you would have at least asked me about the Martha situation before passing judgment.”
“I know. I'm sorry, too,” I offer. “But that was all a long time ago. I’m over it. Come on, we were kids. It's not like we should have been planning our future together or anything anyway.”
A rueful grin touches his lips, but I see something deeper in his expression. “Yeah, maybe not.”
Nothing I'm saying is making things any better. Like, at all. Aaron's mood has turned sour and I can tell that he's still bothered by everything that happened. On the one hand, I can understand it. I mean, to be falsely accused of something and not having the chance to clear your name is frustrating. He has every right to be angry about it. But at the same time, I can tell he’s wrestling with the truth, that he hurt me deeply when I was grieving. And anyway, we were too young to be talking about starting a life together – or at least, I felt like I was.
“Come on, Aaron,” I go on. “Neither of us were at that point in our own personal lives anyway. I had three more years of school, and you were traveling. Not to mention we weren't at that point in our relationship to be discussing something permanent.”
He nods. “No, you're right,” he admits. “I get it. I really am sorry. Even at the time, some part of me still wanted to try to make it work. I guess I just didn’t know what to say, or how to get back in contact with you. ”
“Thank you for apologizing,” I say softly. “It really means a lot.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he gives me a lopsided grin. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. And maybe, looking back, you dumping me the way you did made me grow a hell of a lot as a person. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you, Emily.”
I have absolutely no rebuttal to that. I don’t even know what to say. I just feel somewhat flustered at the moment, mostly because I can't get my head and my heart in alignment. All of my thoughts and feelings are all over the map and none of it is making any sense to me.
“Yeah,” I say as I pour myself another glass of wine. “I guess as much as my parents’ deaths affected me, I have you to thank for me being who I am today. I was so mad at you for so long that I got to travel just like I wanted. I got to see the world and follow one of my dreams. Even if it was – a little bit – in spite of you.”
Aaron laughs. His laugh is just like I remember it: big and hearty and full of joy. The familiar sound sends goosebumps up my arms.
