I knowexactlywhat I’m thinking.
Us, together twenty-four-seven.
Us, in the same space day in and day out, realizing our feelings for one another go a lot deeper than friendship.
Aaron, finally making a move on those feelings.
Me, watching his back and keeping him protected from the vipers in this world at all costs.
It’s the future I’ve always dreamed of. And I know the sacrifice of my education, my own plans will be worth it, because I’d pay any price to have this man as my future. A future without him is one I want no part of.
THIRTEEN
GEMMA
I’ve gone dark on Aaron since that day at the production lot almost three weeks ago. The texts keep coming in, but I don’t have much to say to him right now, so I let him stew.
In my opinion, silently withdrawing your support from someone or something can sometimes speak a lot louder than words. He’s never had to live without my constant support, and I almost think that’s a better punishment for his particular dickish move than me ripping him a few new assholes would be.
So I remain silent, at least to him.
But my thoughts keep me company. There’s no escaping the flashbacks of our happier moments over the years, or of what was basically our only blow-up in our dozen years together; the one that crushed the final fight in me and essentially set me free in one move.
The lone squeaky wheel on my shopping cart wobbles, emitting this awful, high-pitched noise that could make a nun curse as I push the fairly empty cart through my favorite Publix, which is pretty much a ghost town for two-fifteen on a Thursday afternoon.
I guess a lot of people work? The thought reminds me that I, too, should be working. I’m practicing patience with myself, notbeating myself up for not having found a new job yet. It’s not like Ineedto work this week or I’ll die. I have some money saved up. Not that I make, er,madethat much as an assistant, but it’s not awful pay.
Plus, Aaron usually paid for everything when we were together. I mean, I would’ve done the same if I made the big bucks, but that was all him. So I really didn’t have that many expenses to worry about. My mortgage payment is reasonable, thanks to my place being tiny and not in the nicest of areas. My utilities aren’t that much. A few subscriptions and a cell phone, and everything else pretty much went to savings. So it won’t kill me to take a few weeks and cut myself some slack for a minute while I find something I really wanna do next.
But I’ve spent the past weeks racking my brain and not much calls to me. I’ve perused a few job boards and there are plenty of assistant jobs available, so that is probably the smart thing to do. Keep a steady paycheck coming in while I figure out what the fuck my calling is in life. If I even have one.
Surely not everyone does, right?
I can’t be the only one who has no clue what to do with their existence.
What if I don’t even have a purpose on this great, big, spinning rock in space? What if I’m just existing, finding joy wherever I can, without some cosmic meaning behind it? What if curling up in bed with my boyfriend and my book boyfriend of the day is as good as it gets for me?
One pale, gangly arm darts out and sweeps a few bags of chips and snacks into the cart—the ones branded as “natural” so I don’t have a guilt trip—and I head to the produce section on my way out to atone for some of my impulse purchases. A couple bags of salad (that me, myself, and Iallknow are just going to get thrown out next week) and I’m feeling better about myself, so it’s time to check out. Opting for a real person to check me outinstead of the self-serve lanes, the older woman makes pleasant conversation with me as she rings me up, and I’m reminded that I don’t hateeveryone. Just my best friend.
But this guy he’s been lately, the one who said despicable things to me by the picnic tables at the lot and who practically ejected me from his life is not the Aaron I know. That’s not the same guy I’ve carried a torch for all these years. No. That guy is someone entirely different.
I don’t know if it’s the fact that he’s got a steady girlfriend now, if we are just growing apart with age, or maybe it’s something else entirely.
God forbid he figured out how deep my feelings for him run and it’s what scared the real him off. But I miss the Aaron who can always be counted on to be in a good mood. The one who brightens every room he walks into, and naturally charms everyone he meets. Yes, he’s slightly dorky and awkward, but he’s lovably so, and it’s worked in his favor massively with his career. Costars, directors, producers, studio executives, the crew—even the media—they all can’t help but love him.
I miss the Aaron who somehow magically knows when my period is coming, and who brings me almond croissants the first few mornings of each cycle because he knows those are always really shitty days for me. The one who doesn’t have to ask how my day is, he can tell by a glance—or sometimes he can even tell from afar, like freaking magic—andhe can always make it better with a joke, a text, or a gaming sesh.
That’sthe one whose back I’ve been guarding for as long as I can remember, because his innocence, that light that only he brings to this world is worth protecting.
Not this Jekyll and Hyde guy who was my boss at the end there; being the same best friend I’ve turned to for every single problem I needed to solve, or piece of good news I had to share one minute, and then this distant, cranky, snappy, hurtfulcreature the next. I’ve never met this man before, and I can’t figure out what brought this on, or how to go back to the guy I know.
It’s been a total mindfuck, and I’m glad to be away from it for the time being. Even if it feels like a huge chunk of my soul is missing. Being apart from him, this physical and metaphorical space between us, it feels like an actual hole in my gut; I can feel his absence deep within my core every minute of the day, and I’m physically nauseous from the rift in our relationship.
I can’t help but wonder how he’s doing without me. Even if he was a royal dick at the end of our working relationship, I worry that whoever he brought on as his new assistant isn’t handling his life the way I would. Preparations for his trip to Romania is what’s at the top of my worrywart list, but he was mid negotiations for a feature film that’s supposed to be nailed down before too long, plus there were still some loose ends to wrap on this season ofMidnight Empire. His food, his house, his business dealings…the complete list is a lot longer than just those couple things—it spans dozens of notes in my phone—those are just the projects I find myself wondering about every half hour.
But that’s not my problem anymore. I remind myself that he and his life are someone else’s problem now. Someone who’s probably incompetent, who he can’t trust and could possibly trigger a panic attack (which he hasn’t had in over three years now, thanks to our routine, what we put in placetogether).
Great. Now my gut has more than a hole in it—it’s wrenching, too. I can’t stand the thought of him suffering, even if he kinda deserves any repercussions that come his way at the moment.
