Page 58 of Later Bloom

He doesn’t look back as he walks away, with his hair in the wind and his back squared in irritation, maybe anger. Aubrey feels terrible. She’s let him down. Maybe she ought to have made more of an effort. Maybe he’s right, maybe she got it wrong. But she’s too drained to try, it seems, or maybe she doesn’t have it in her to figure this out. Maybe she’s missing the gene that would bloom feelings into intimacy, into romance. Maybe her friends know something she doesn’t, about the intricacies of first relationships, how they picked their favourite boy in class and agreed to be with them and they dated for a month and professed their love for each other on social media. About going through their first heartbreak and finding their experiences reflected in songs and movies that ring so relatable, while Aubrey watches and wonders when it’ll be her turn.

She blinks and suddenly Maggie is hurrying over in her direction, with her mouth open and her eyes wide. “What the hell was that?” she exclaims as she slows to an abrupt halt.

It’s pathetic, but Aubrey stammers, “I don’t know,” twice and nothing else. It’s easier, and she chooses easy. Maggie doesn’t ask any more questions, not for now, but she draws her into a hug and says, “Don’t worry about it. You’re better off without him.”

Later, the two of them sit in an empty living room while everyone is still outside. The sun has set and fairy lights soak the yard in a warm orange light. In the distance, a camera flashes once in a while, and Aubrey pretends very hard not to pay attention to the sound of Simon’s voice. She and Maggie have agreed he’s an ass and she’s not a terrible person, which she nodded along to, but she’s not entirely convinced of it still.

“You’ll know when it happens,” Maggie insists now. “Trust me. I don’t know how to convince you, but you’ll know. There’s no way in the world you’ll miss it.”

“Maybe with time—”

“Life is short as hell, Aubrey. Don’t waste it forcing feelings for a guy.”

“Right. I get that.” They sit on the couch with their feet intertwined. It’s a ridiculous space, much too big yet crowded nonetheless, with too many pieces of furniture and oversized plants. The couch is an intimidatingly pristine shade of cream. A few candles are burning here and there, as if someone’s been specifically assigned to set the mood. The windows, rising up to a high ceiling, are open to let in the breeze. Aubrey stares at the decorative medallion centred overhead. “But maybe I’m just a slow burn kind of girl. Like I need to get to know someone before I catch feelings.”

“Yes, okay. But you know Simon.”

“I do.”

“And you don’t have romantic feelings for him.”

“Right.”

“So that’s done, then.”

“Yes, but maybe there’s something I haven’t seen—”

“No. Aubrey. You don’t need to justify not having feelings for someone. No is enough of an answer. You don’t have to make sense of it, or put the right words to it, or explain it to anyone. Especially yourself.”

Aubrey tries to hear it, really hear it, but it’s hard. So hard. Her heart is too big for her chest. She sinks into her weight and drops her head on Maggie’s shoulder, and they sit there, listening to the conversations outside. Quietly, Maggie says, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll meet someone soon. It’s not like you’re twenty-five and still single or anything.”

Chapter Seventeen

The party is on December 6th, at Florence’s apartment. In the morning, when the sun is shining through her window and the snow outside is fresh and settled, Aubrey decides she’ll walk there. It’ll be nice to breathe some fresh air. Also, Arthur’s offer to drive her there scared her, so she’d said no.

She’s not really sure why. Maybe because last week she’d thought about Simon for the first time in a long while, and it made her feel weird. Like she still can’t make sense of the thoughts in her head, can’t make a real mature adult out of herself or handle situations she should’ve figured out by now.

Maybe it’s because she fears suddenly that she won’t have anything to say to him, which is ridiculous. They’ve never run out of things to talk about.

They’d kept each other updated on their respective weeks through quick but regular messages over the last few days. She always had something to say, and he actually knows how to hold a conversation.

Aubrey had told Maggie about the holiday celebration, but only in so many words, with a picture of her outfit to get enthusiastic approval and maybe not invite any further questions. This is pretty much how things are right now between them. They talk less often and less deeply, about things that don’t matter that much, which is why they feel nice. It scares Aubrey to feel so distant from the anchor Maggie’s been for her. They’ve gone through these phases in the past and always returned to each other, but sometimes the present is too strikingly new to mold itself into familiar patterns. They haven’t talked on the phone in a while. For once, Aubrey misses hearing about Maggie’s dating life. She itches to feel a rush of envy, a pang of jealousy.

When she knocks on Florence’s door at half-past six, on the top floor of an old brick building that had looked surreal from the street as she’d walked up, her shoulders are covered in snow and her fingers have grown numb. She breathes in deeply. Laughter and conversation echo from inside, heels on the floor and festive music. The door opens to reveal a beaming Florence, with bright red cheeks and a shiny tiara on her head.

“Oh, hell yes,” she says, dragging Aubrey inside.

They hug clumsily in the entryway, chins on each other’s shoulders. “How’ve you been?” Aubrey asks. A few people are already here, waving to her from across the room. She recognizes them from late autumn outings at the pub and the waterfront. The apartment is one big open area, with a long sofa and a few chairs set in a wide circle.

Florence flashes a tired but content smile when she pulls away. “Exhausted from the second I woke up.” She seems a little distant, but only in the way hosts do, like she’s got so many things to think about it’s hard to make space for more. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she sighs.

“I brought this.” Aubrey hands over a small gift bag covered in a reindeer pattern and some fake snow. “It’s nothing, really, just spices for the kitchen.”

“Oh, wow.” Florence’s face splits into a grin. “So you’re a gift spoiler, then?”

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t think.” Aubrey laughs it off weakly. Her cheeks are growing hot. “I just thought it’s such an adult thing to give. I’ve never bought spices for anyone before. I thought surely I should mention it right away. In case you got your hopes up.”

Florence grows yet more amused. “You’re giving away too much information on my amazing spices!”