Page 12 of Everything We Give

She doesn’t say anything. Neither do I.

I don’t know what to say. I’ve got nothing.

Wait. Hold that thought, I’ve got one thing.

I briefly close my eyes and swallow the anger. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is argue.”

We watch each other for as long as I can safely keep my eyes off the road. She chews her lower lip and a horn blares. I swing my head around, switch lanes, and Aimee quietly says my name. “I’m sorry, too. I should have called you.”

“You should have come home,” I say gently. “You should have trusted me to be there for you.”

“I know. It’s just I still feel bad about last summer. Underneath all my anger, I was embarrassed.” She looks at her hands in her lap.

“Look, I get how the situation between you and James is weird. It was a long relationship with an intense, fucked-up ending that wasn’t your fault.”

“It was in a way. He clocked the neighborhood jerk when we were kids and I hero-worshiped him for years. I think ... no. I know, to some degree, I still idolized him even after our relationship changed and we became more than friends. I should have known—”

“No, no, no,” I interrupt. “How old were you when you started going out? Thirteen? Don’t go blaming yourself. You were a kid.” I look askance at her. I’ve asked the question before, but at the risk of making her more upset, I’ve got to ask it again. “Are you still in love with him?”

I still cringe at myself once the words are out.

Damn, Collins. What’s with the insecurity?

Then I remember how every woman I’d loved has ditched me. The fear Aimee will do the same has got its claws on me.

Aimee fires an exasperated look in my direction. “You know I’m not. But he’s part of my past. He helped shape me into who I am today. How do I make you understand?” She thinks for a moment, weighing things in her mind. “How about this? I don’t love you less because of James. I just love him differently, and because of my experience with James, I believe I love you more than I would have had James and I never been together. I guess the best comparison is that I feel for James the way you feel for Reese.”

“Oh no.” I laugh the words, shaking my finger. “Our situations are nothing alike.”

“I know you were once in love with her. She’s your history, and you’ve barely told me anything about her.”

“Don’t turn this back on me. This isn’t about me. It’s about you and—”

“I’m always sharing my feelings. I always talk with you about James and what I’m thinking. We agreed to be open about our past relationships, girlfriendsandmothers.”

“What has my mom got to do with this?”

“You’ve hardly told me anything about Reese, not like how you’ve shared with me your relationship with your mom,” she adds, when my cheek flexes from clenching my jaw too hard.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say quietly. About either of them. It took years of therapy for me to be able to discuss my mom without feeling that burning sensation of anger well up like a Yellowstone geyser. Now I just feel guilt and regret, a whole lot of it, too. I know I could have done more for her. But I also could have done as my dad repeatedly asked of me and let her be. She was not my responsibility, but I felt otherwise.

Aimee knows everything about my childhood, the way my dad practically abandoned me week after week, leaving me alone with my mom, giving me no choice but to look after her. I was a kid, for God’s sake. I can’t imagine doing the same to Caty.

I stomp down the hurt of past memories and focus on driving. The road ahead is straight but our discussion is an old one, spinning doughnuts between us.

I glance at Aimee. She looks stonily at me. She taps the purse in her lap. Annoying little thumps that tighten my back. I roll my shoulders, crack my neck, flip the turn signal, and exit the freeway, easing to a stop at a red light.

“James is in love,” Aimee says as the car idles.

“Hopefully not with you.”

She makes a noise of impatience. “No, not with me. Natalya. Remember that woman we met with him when Carlos visited my parents’ house? Her,” she says. “James has been living with her in Hawaii. He asked if I thought him falling for someone he’d technically just met last June was too soon. It got me to thinking about us.”

Maybe Aimee and I need to rethink our open-book policy on sharing our innermost thoughts and feelings. She’s gutting me.

“I love you, Aimee. I love you so much. You and Caty are my world.”

“I love you, too, Ian.” She leans over and kisses me below the ear, letting her lips linger. I briefly close my eyes. I needed her touch. I needed to hear and feel her love for me.

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