Page 52 of Later Bloom

“Aubrey.” This time her name is purposeful on his lips. He watches her closely, like he wants her to notice. “I will say it again, if you need to hear it again.”

She drops her gaze to the table because it feels easier. “Once is plenty,” she tries to joke. “Thanks.”

His chair creaks when he shifts his weight in his seat. “Anyway, what I was going to say was—ending up alone is even more terrifying, I get that. But what if you’re not considering all the alternatives? What if you can’t even imagine how good it’ll turn out?”

“Mm, okay. Optimistic.”

“What if you can’t even picture how great things will be, and what if everything turns out absolutely perfect? You get the idea.”

Aubrey likes what he’s saying. It soothes the swelling in her chest a little. “Sure.”

“Honestly, I’m just not very worried about you. Look at you, for Christ’s sake. Not that it matters much what I think, but you know. I think you’ll be fine. But if you decide what I’m saying isn’t worth much, well, you can just focus on that instead. Everything turning out just fine.”

“Yeah.” Aubrey’s voice is stifled, soft. Arthur is watching her so very closely and he looks for a second as if he might want to hug her. Maybe she should say less, or think more, but it’s nice to talk to him, even when it catches her off-guard. Begrudgingly, she says, “Everyone goes on all the time about how short life is.”

Arthur nods, with a taut, stiff smile. “Yeah, they do that.”

“I hate it.”

He takes a small sip from his tea. His face twists into a grimace. “I bet it doesn’t feel very short when you’ve been waiting for something for so long.”

“That’s exactly it, yes.” She looks at his hands, wrapped around the mug again. “Do you not like the tea?”

“Not a big tea guy.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ll drink it if you make it for me.”

They stare at each other. Aubrey’s chest is tight and she thinks of the time, and how Louise must be on her way home. She feels lost in this conversation, trying to imagine where it could go or what its point is, and she draws a blank, maybe on purpose. “Can I tell you something else?” she asks.

His expression settles into something more serious now. “Mhm. Anything.” It feels heavy and intimidating now, the way he watches her.

She has to look away to say, “I’m really just scared I won’t be happy.” She smiles then, just so he knows she’s not just sad and pathetic.

“Well, shit,” Arthur laughs, somewhere deep from his chest. “I’d be really worried if you weren’t.”

It feels nice, somehow, to be teased this way. It’s so easy to find comfort in this being funny, out of all things. She rolls her eyes. “Ha ha.”

“Okay. I get it. I can help with that, I think.”

Ah. “Of course you can.”

“Would you ever be scared you’d never be sad again?”

Aubrey bites into her smile, as if she can’t let it grow too wide. “I don’t suppose I would.”

“Happiness is an emotion. Not a permanent state. It comes and goes like any other emotion, like sadness, or anger. It’s exhausting to try and stay in it forever. Impossible, even. But it comes back around. Like any other feeling.”

His answer lingers for a moment in the air. He takes another sip of tea and fails miserably at concealing his disgust. Aubrey says, “Jesus. You’re really annoying.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“How do you just think like this?”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t. I have a therapist for a mother is all. I’ve been swimming in emotional regulation and all that crap since I was in diapers.”

Aubrey grunts. “I should’ve known there was a reason.”