Page 72 of Almost True
There would be no violence Monday. I could count on that, at least. But beyond that small guarantee, I wasn’t sure. And if I didn’t believe they’d be voting me out, why did it all seem so brutal?
“All set?” Aidan asked.
Ah. Aidan.Of course.
He was the reason. Because leaving Aidan to return to New York would be brutal in the starkest sense.
Our phone call had been heavy, and he’d come to me immediately. He’d walked right into the house, come straight to me, and wrapped me in his arms. His handsome face had worn worry and sadness, and Ihatedthat I’d put them there.
But by degrees, he’d released me. Almost as though I could feel him making a decision of some kind, though I didn’t know what, exactly. When he’d leaned away to look into my eyes, I’d seen determination there.
“We’ll soak in every second.”
My throat so tight it nearly strangled me, I’d nodded. “Okay.” I’d only managed a whisper.
We’d clung together a few minutes longer before his phone buzzed and Luca asked if we were still going to the movies. We’d had such a fun weekend planned—movie night, river float, and a long-awaited tour of the tree farm on Sunday.
Now we’d have to cancel Sunday. But I’d told Aidan I didn’t want to change anything else and risk having my last weekend here spell out disappointment for Luca. So we’d gone to the movie and tried to slip into the fiction. We’d said goodnight when he dropped me off, and I’d spent most of the night staring into the darkness, wishing he were there, not able to string together coherent thoughts.
A day later and now we sat watching Luca and John and a host of others fling themselves off the rocks into the river and race to do it again. We hadn’t talked very much, almost like the news of my early departure had stolen the words from between us.
But as we watched the scene play out and I glanced around, noting friendly faces I’d come to recognize and many of whom I’d learned to care for in such a short time, my heart twisted and squeezed in my chest as though someone was wringing it out.
I must’ve made a sound because Aidan turned to me. “You okay?”
I nodded, feebly trying to convince us both, but suddenly, I had words. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go back. I mean, IknowI’m not ready to leave you, but I feel…” How did I even verbalize this? I shook my head, frustrated.
“You can tell me. I know you need to mentally prepare and that the biggest change here isn’t aboutme.It’s about you returning to work after a traumatic experience.” He tightened his grip on my hand in a reassuring pulse.
I wanted to laugh and cry at his words. Why had I found him here? So far from my real life? And why couldn’t my real life just wait a little longer to invade?
Fair to say I’d not only been in a dream here. I’d been in hiding—first from a genuine threat and then from the danger of returning to the soporific version of life that seemed like another world right now.
But I tried to explain because I needed to work through this, and drowning in my thoughts inside my own mind wouldn’t help. “The last few months, I convinced myself that all I needed was this break. I’ve had it scheduled since January when things got more intense with the stalker, and I was actively scared and stressed and just—”
Aidan’s arms came around me and held me. Safe. Warm. Loved. I pulled in a breath and continued. “It was a nightmare. I was scared, and then angry at being scared. So I made this plan because I’d always wanted to be here—to take a chance at finding you again, honestly, and to enjoy this place because I barely got a glimpse of it the first time.”
His hands smoothed down my back, tender and reassuring, but he still didn’t speak.
I took a deep inhale and pressed on, needing to explain this to someone other than my own rattled mind. “I promised myself I would be better. That by the end of this break, I’d be ready to get back to work. I’ve always been motivated by work, and not feeling that has been the weirdest combination of a relief and a heartbreak. I don’t know if that even makes sense.”
“None of this is simple. You went through a traumatic time—actual trauma. Having someone stalking you is traumatic. And that’s not even including what you experienced when he attacked you.” His voice came out sure and insistent, like he wouldn’t tolerate me hedging.
“It was. And even though I’ve been telling myself this would be enough time, I’m scared about going back. I’ve changed in ways I never anticipated, and I don’t know how that’s going to fit with my old life.”
I willed him to tell me to find a way to stay, or have something to say that could speak to this feeling that going back was a mistake. He held me a while longer before he sighed lightly and pulled back.
“I don’t know what your life at work is like. But I remember you talking about it when we first met—you loved it. I also understand that this might’ve really changed you—everything this year. And I think it’s okay to be scared. If I didn’t do things that scared me, I’d probably never get out of bed.”
Shocked, I studied his face. He meant it. “That can’t be possible. You’re so self-assured.”
He huffed a laugh. “Most things I do scare me.”
“How is that possible?”
A small smile pulled at his lips. “For the first few years after Viv, it was like anything I did, I was terrified of leaving Luca an orphan. I refused to drive for a full eighteen months. Like, I wouldn’t drive, wouldn’t get in the car. After that, I became more and more fearful. That was a lot of what I worked on in therapy, and I was able to slowly get off medication a few years back. But I still feel generally inept and unprepared for everything. I’ve just learned that hiding out and keeping everyone at bay won’t change that, so I might as well go ahead and do it—whateveritis.”
I felt the grin despite the tears that had moistened my eyes. “I like that.” My eyes widened. “Well, to clarify, Ihatethat, but… I appreciate having a little mantra and knowing it’s not so abnormal that I would feel scared but still do the thing I need to anyway.”
