“What?”
“Pizza,” he repeats. “We, uh, bought too much yesterday.”
“I don’t like pizza.”
“Then we’ll get something else. Come on, mate. You’ve been out for hours. Even if you’re not hungry, you’ve got to be thirsty.”
I wonder how he knows my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. Then I remember that Aidan is clever and super intuitive. And he knows me because he cares.
You care about him too. If you go with him, you can make sure he rests.
Works for me. I take Aidan’s outstretched hand and help him up the slope to the gate. He’s moving slow, and when I look at him, his face is as pained as I’ve ever seen it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just walk, Ludo.”
Damn, he’s in a mood. Aidan is so sweet with me most of the time I forget that it’s not his baseline. I try and keep quiet as we navigate to the path, but it’s hard. I feel like we’re on a momentous journey, and despite how much pain Aidan is in, I don’t understand why he’s so cross. “I think we should go on holiday.”
“That right?”
“Yeah. Somewhere with waterfalls and stuff. And lots of trees.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you come with me then?”
“When are you going?”
Now there’s a question. There’s an airport ten miles away, but it’s a small one, and I don’t think the flights it handles go anywhere interesting. “I don’t know yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh.”
We keep walking. And I keep talking. Aidan doesn’t answer me much, but I try to ignore how annoying that is and fill the silence so it doesn’t suffocate us.
The gate that takes us to the road appears in front of me. My feet hurt. Aidan hands me my shoes, but I can’t figure out why they’re not already on my feet.
“I found them by the water,” he says. “Maybe you wanted to go for a swim and forgot about it.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“If you say so.”
We reach the road and cross it. Aidan opens my front door and tugs me inside, and instantly the walls of my house feel like a prison. The door shuts behind me and I want to scream. “I don’t want to stay here.”
“You want to go to my place?”
“No.”
“Then you have to stay here.”
“Says who?”
“I do. Just have some water, at least, okay? Then if you want to go out again, we’ll go wherever you want.”
He’s not going anywhere. He’s leaning on the wall as though it’s the only thing keeping him upright, and his gaze is pleading. Desperate. He needs something from me, but I don’t know what.
