Page 45 of Done with You

There was no text or voicemail from Jordan, so he caught the next bus that passed by and took it wherever it was headed.

He needed to stay out of the house, at least until he knew Oona was gone. Which he soon realized, he had no way of knowing.

A thick gray blanket of clouds hung over the city, but the wind was minimal and it wasn’t raining or snowing. He found himself down in the inner harbor where the parliament building stood tall and colonial along the edge of a big bay full of boats moored at a dock, and seaplanes that were buzzing in and out.

No matter where he walked, he could hear the faint tinkle of a Christmas song. It wasn’t necessarily the same Christmas song, but eventually they all sounded the same.

He was just going to give the happy couple cash for a wedding gift, but it was still Christmas, so he probably needed to get Jordan and Rayma some kind of gift, too.

Only problem was: he didn’t really know either of them, or what they liked.

Besides fucking pineapples, apparently. And they had enough of those.

Great.

Making his way up Government Street, an area of town that reminded him of an old British town with its cobblestones, brick buildings and ornate street lamps, he glanced into various shops. They all had their window displays decorated for the holiday in one fashion or another. Some had painted glass, with Santa Claus and reindeer, or snowmen and trees, while others just used what they had in the shop, along with some red baubles and garland to make it look festive.

He stopped in front of a hemp store. The window display was eye-catching but not gaudy. It had a couple of mannequins decked out in winter gear. Nice looking toques, scarves and sweaters. There was lumpy fake snow on the floor of the display, and a red and black plaid blanket hung behind the mannequins as a background. You got that it was meant to be wintery and Christmas, but it wasn’t obnoxious like a loaf of fruitcake to the face.

He heaved on the door, welcomed by the jingle bell overhead, and stepped inside.

The warmth of the space was inviting and he exhaled in relief. His shoulders also left his ears. He hadn’t realized they’d been hanging out there until the tension fled from his upper back.

A young guy in a dark orange toque greeted him, but didn’t hover.

Aiden liked that.

He figured a toque for Rayma and Jordan each would probably be a safe gift to get. Who didn’t love a snazzy new toque that didn’t itch? He had one on his head at that very moment, however, his wasn’t organic hemp and as soft as a baby rabbit.

He grabbed matching his and hers toques for Rayma and Jordan in light gray, then a black one for himself. He was just heading up to the cash register when he passed a copper-colored scarf draped around another mannequin’s neck. For some reason, the color reminded him of one of the shades of gold in Oona’s eyes. He unraveled it from the mannequin and added it to the pile, not really thinking about why he was doing it. He’d probably just end up giving it to Rayma. She had similar eyes, though they did seem to have less gold in them than Oona’s.

As he was handing over his credit card, he spied a basket of warm-looking hemp gloves. Again, there was a pair that matched the scarf.

Still, not totally thinking—or at least not reading into his actions too much—he tossed the pair onto the pile, then grabbed two more pairs for Rayma and Jordan.

He left the store with his paper bag and a weird sense of calm. Just as he was passing by a shop with a window full of different fudge flavors and contemplating getting a chunk of the orange creamsicle flavor, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was Jordan.

It was still weird seeing his brother’s name pop up on his caller ID. The first time it happened a few months ago, when Jordan called to invite him to the wedding, Aiden had let it go to voicemail. He had no idea what to say to Jordan and was in a bad head-space when his brother called.

But Jordan left a brief voicemail, telling Aiden he was getting married and to call him back.

It took Aiden three days to work up the courage to do it.

“Hey,” he answered, putting the phone to his ear.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Downtown. Took the bus, why?”

“Just checking in. I’ll be off at six, thought we could … I dunno, grab dinner together or something. Rayma is going to be off with her sisters doing who knows what, so I thought it’d be a nice opportunity for us to …” he cleared his throat, “bond or whatever.”

Abandoning the idea of fudge, Aiden continued to walk, that’s when he spied a sandwich board and an arrow pointing around the corner. His mouth split into a big grin. “I know exactly what we can do tonight.”

“Axe throwing?” Jordan asked as he parked his truck next to a meter later that night.

“I’ve never done it, have you?” Aiden asked.

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