"So, you came up with the rule?"
"Yes.'"
I run my fingers gently through his hair, wanting to soothe him in any way I can. "Aaron, you know that you can't blame yourself for any of that. The blame lies squarely with that woman. If you saw the best in her, that only reflects well on you. Don't you see that?"
"In business, I have certainty about what I'm doing. I know a good decision when I make it. But with my personal life, I just don't believe that I can put myself on the line again."
"How long's it been?"
"Six years," he says, moving to roll away from me, but I hold him tighter so he'll stay where he is. I know talking is uncomfortable for him, but now he's started, I want him to continue.
"That's a long time to be holding onto the hurt, Aaron. Life is full of risk, and we might not like it, but if we didn't try and put ourselves out there, we would end up living miserably anyway."
Aaron is quiet for a while, digesting our conversation, it seems. I'm starting to get cold and shiver as the evening begins to creep into the room. He pulls at the quilt and tucks it over me.
"You're a good person, Nicole," he says. "And I'm glad that I met you." Turning my face, I meet his sad green eyes and feel a lump as big as a tennis ball in my throat because I can already feel him pulling away. Aaron cups my cheek, and then his lips meet mine with the gentlest kiss I've ever experienced. It should taste sweet, but it's tainted with regrets and with goodbyes. This time when he tries to move away, I don’t stop him. He turns to sit on the edge of the bed to put his clothes on, and I clutch the comforter closer. I can't watch him leave, so I curl into a ball and face the other way, wrapped in the soft nest of my covers. His shoed feet tread lightly on the carpet, and I hear him pause in the doorway, maybe to save a final memory of what we've been, maybe with words on his lips that he can't bring himself to say.
I register him leaving, the thump of his tread down the hallway, the sound of his suitcase on the tiles and the front door opening and closing, but I pretend it isn't happening. A car engine comes to life outside. It's only when it drives away, and my home is suddenly silent that I finally allow myself to cry.22
NICOLEWhen I was a girl, I wasn’t interested in fairy tales. The simplicity of stories that can be wrapped up so neatly with a happy ending just didn’t feel real or attainable to me. I wanted gritty, imperfect tales that left me yearning for what might have been. It’s strange that up until Aaron, I have been searching for perfection in my relationships and trying to live up to the ideal that my parents set as an example.
A few days after Aaron leaves, I arrange to see my mum and dad for dinner. When I arrive, I catch them glancing at each other with concerned expressions. Do I look that bad? Can they tell how I’m feeling? We manage to get through huge plates of spaghetti Bolognese with only my mum filling the conversational void. She recounts the ailments and problems of every friend and acquaintance she has before my dad finally interrupts to ask me if I’m okay.
I’m close to them, but no girl wants to tell her parents about a fling that has soured. I do want their advice, though. With a deep breath, I ask them something I’ve never asked before.
“Did you know when you met that you were soulmates?” It’s what I’ve always assumed of their relationship.
There’s a pause before they both burst with laughter. “I knew your mum was gorgeous and a great kisser. And she was funny and caring and interesting, but I didn’t know she was the one for me until we’d been together for a while. Relationships take work, Nicole. You’re not going to find a man and slip into a life with him like a comfy slipper. Relationships are like new shoes. You’ve got to walk some ground in them before they get comfortable, and they need constant attention to keep them roadworthy.”
My mum smiles at my dad as if he says the nicest thing ever. “Your dad is a very wise man, isn’t he? Why are you asking, Nicky? Are you having man troubles again?” I cringe but carry on regardless.
“I don’t know…not really. I just feel I’m at a crossroads.”
“And you need to decide which way to go?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, it sounds a bit cliché to say follow your heart, so I won’t,” Mum says, looking thoughtful.