by Mindy Hayes
Aiden shakes his head and says, “Geez, Alix.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Ballard. I know people probably talk anyway, but at least they don’t know the truth. Please, just let it go.” I move around the office, pretending to look more, but I already have ideas up my sleeve. I know exactly what I’ll draw up.
“I’m not going to lecture you. I just can’t believe you’ve carried this for so long all by yourself. What about Brooks?”
“What about him?”
“You take care of your mom and him?”
“I do what I have to do.”
There’s no hesitation. Aiden grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug. I try to shove against his chest, but he doesn’t let up. And by try I mean I weakly push his chest, attempting to appear as if I don’t want him to touch me. Instead, I stop and take a breath, letting the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around me comfort me. I can’t remember the last time I felt security, the support of someone making sure I was taken care of. Whether he’s trying to comfort me or just cop a feel, for a minute I want to act like I don’t care. For now I’ll pretend that I’m allowed to want something more.
When the moment passes, and it starts to feel more like affection than comfort, I say, “I should probably get going.”
He reluctantly lets go. “Right.”
“I’ll get you guys the plans next week.” I say as I quickly make my way to the front of the office. If I wouldn’t look crazy, I would run.
“Okay.”
“See ya.” I wave and jet out the front door before he says anything else.
AIDEN
AFTER STANDING USELESSLY in the office for about five minutes after she left, I grab my laptop and sit on the floor against the wall.
“What do you know about Alzheimer’s?” I ask Dean when he walks into the office an hour later.
“She told you, huh,” he concludes and walks toward me.
I click on another link on my laptop. “Yeah.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m researching.” I slowly scroll through another page of information about Alzheimer’s. Symptoms, medications, side effects of the drugs, treatments, trials. No cures. There’s so much to take in. It’s all a bit overwhelming. “I want to know everything I can about it.”
“Well, I don’t know much, but I know what Sawyer has told me about Alix’s mom.” I look up from my screen. “She can’t do anything for herself anymore, except for eat. She hardly recognizes Alix. She doesn’t even recognize Brooks. When she does it’s not for long.”
I sigh, leaning my head back against the wall, and stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know what’s worse. Having your parents die suddenly, or watch as you slowly lose them right before your eyes.” Moisture pricks my eyes, but I blink it away. Now is not the time to think of my parents. “How is Alix doing it all? Why is she doing it all alone?”
“She’s stubborn and wants to do it herself.” Dean slides down beside me. “And she gets help from Sawyer and Gina Thompson.”
“I almost want to be mad at her for not saying anything. If everyone knew, sure they’d talk, but she’s got to know support would be offered by so many people.”
“Sawyer says she doesn’t want to be a burden.”
“I want her to be my burden. Ugh!” I slam my laptop closed. “I’d give anything for her to be my burden.” Her burdens would be easier to bear than my own.
Dean says, “Alix being your burden and her mom being your burden are two very different things.”
“They’re one in the same to me. For Alix, I’d do anything.”
The thing is, I know Alix is in there somewhere, dying to come out, but she’s so exhausted taking care of everyone around her that she can’t. I want to lighten her load.
“Then I’m going to give you the same advice you gave me last year. Fight. Be there. That’s all you’ve got to do. I know I always bag on you about her, but I know what she means to you. Don’t give up. If she means to you what Sawyer does to me, fight like no one’s business.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing.” Maybe it was more passively fighting, patiently waiting for her to be ready. But she might never be. And flaunting the girls I was dating was definitely not the best route to go. I’ve got to be better than that.
“Dean! It’s so clear now.” My fist meets the flooring. “No wonder the woman doesn’t want anything to do with me. She can’t take me seriously. She probably thinks I’ll become another responsibility for her to take care of. All I’ve wanted to do was put a smile on her face, but I probably just look like a screw up in her eyes.”
“You’re not a screw up, Aiden,” Dean says.
“No, but she doesn’t realize that. I was a screw up in high school. She probably thinks I haven’t grown up yet. Trying to make her jealous with every new girl I took out only reinforced that.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” he tries. “There’s so much more about her that you don’t know.” His words should make me question further, but I don’t quite grasp what he means, my thoughts too focused on another tangent.
“Yeah. Maybe, but she needs to know. She won’t have to take care of me. I’ll take care of her. I want to take care of her.”
“I know I won’t change your mind, so I don’t know why you’re even asking me.”
“I’m not. I’m telling you. I will prove to Alix that I’ve changed.”
It’s time I upped my game. I need to show Alix more. There’s more to me than jokes and sarcastic comments. I can be what she needs.
ALIX
AN ENTIRE SUMMER of working with Aiden and Dean passes and I can’t figure out where the time went. Aiden and I went from feisty to professional within the first week. When I’d returned with the plans for their office I hardly recognized him. He’d smiled pleasantly and made comments on what he thought should go and what should stay without making one wisecrack. I’d hardly known what to say, but told him I would make the corrections and have it ready in a couple days.
“Thank you for taking care of that, Alix,” he’d said respectfully without a hint of a smirk or a twinkle in his eyes.
“You’re welcome,” I’d responded awkwardly before leaving, because, quite frankly, I felt more confused than ever.
From there on out, every interaction with him was polite. Once their business officially reopened for contracting at the end of July, he sent me a new job nearly every other week to bid on. My prices were always the best, so I usually got lucky. But he never asked about anything more than that. It was always about the clients. Not me. Not my mom. Not him. Not even Sawyer and Dean, the only ones we used to ever talk about.
This was something I should have been happy about, and it was a relief at first. He didn’t bombard me with questions about my mom like I thought he might or relentlessly dangle details of the night we spent together to rile me up. Things were beginning to be a little…dare I say…boring.
And now, I’m beginning to miss cocky Aiden Ballard.
I didn’t just say that.
***
At the beginning of June, Dr. Fallon told me there was a new form of medication that had many positive results and that insurance would cover it. Our insurance hardly covers anything like that. It seemed too good to be true, so I decided to take advantage of it. If it even slowed down Mama’s progression a little bit, I’d take it. Since it has only been about two months, I haven’t noticed a ton of changes, but that might be a positive thing. She isn’t getting worse and that’s something to celebrate.
“You’re going to sign me up for soccer soon, right, Alix?” Brooks asks as I’m putting away the leftovers from dinner.
“Right. Soccer registration. I’ll talk to Mr. Ricks to make sure we get you signed up again this season. It starts in a few weeks, huh?”
“Yeah. Tyler and Shawn’s moms already signed them up. I really don’t want to miss out. Don’t forget, okay?” He hands me the Tupperware filled with spaghetti sauce. His eyes show so much conce
rn that I won’t remember, I can’t help but chuckle.
“I won’t, bud. I’ll take care of it.” I ruffle his hair.
“You’re going to let the penguins out of the fridge,” Mama says from the kitchen table.
“I’ll catch them if they try to run, Mama,” Brooks says seriously. No doubt trying to soothe her. He’s gotten so good at trying.
“But the penguins,” she persists.
I close the refrigerator door. “The penguins are safe. See? I won’t have any penguins running amok in my house.”
Brooks laughs, and Mama seems to be mollified for the time being.
“All right,” I say to Brooks. “Did you do all your homework?”
“Yup.” He makes an X over his heart.
“Good job. I’ve got to finish up some plans I need to bring in tomorrow. Can you keep an eye on Mama?” For tonight she seems okay enough to step away.
He nods and takes her hand. “C’mon, Mama. Let’s play a game.”
She doesn’t go willingly at first, but he tugs her hand gently and she stands up. “A game? What game? I don’t know if I like playing games.”
“You’re great at games, but sometimes you let me win. It’ll be fun,” he says to try and entice her. He’ll end up making all her moves for her, but it’s the closest thing he’ll get to quality time. My heart fractures a little further.
Before I head into my office I remember I need to check the mail. As I flip through it on my way back inside, a white envelope with familiar handwriting stops me. The return address says it’s from New York. My heart jumps to my throat. I race inside to look for a pen. Precisely, liberatingly, I write ‘return to sender,’ slap another stamp on it, and put it back in the mailbox. Unopened.
***
About an hour into the designs I’m working on, my phone rings. Sawyer.
“Hey.” I smile.
“Hey yourself. What are you doing?”
“Plans for Aiden and Dean.”
“Ah. Seems that’s all you do now.”
“They keep me busy. I can’t complain. Keeps food on the table.”
“Good.” She pauses.
“So,” I prompt. We don’t normally call each other for chitchat anymore. Though I wish we still did, I know she called for a reason.
“I wanted to tell you in person, but with your crazy life and mine with the bakery—I swear I hardly even get a minute to myself—we never really get the chance anymore.”
“What’s up, S?”
“Well…” she draws out the word, and I know something big is coming.
“You’re pregnant,” I say before she has the chance. I’m only half-joking. They’ve only been married for, like three months, but I suppose that doesn’t mean anything.
“How did you know?” she demands.
“I didn’t. It was a guess! You are?” My voice is getting high and squeaky with excitement.
“Twelve weeks,” she confirms.
I do the math in my head. “Honeymoon baby, huh?” I laugh.
“Apparently.” It’s only one word, but I hear the happiness in her voice, and I want to leap through the phone and wrap my arms around her neck.
“I’m so happy for you, Sawyer. You deserve this.”
“Thanks, Felix.” Her voice is clogged with tears—no doubt hormonal pregnancy tears.
“So, I know I should be able to do the math in my head, but when are you due?”
“February 25.”
“Of course. The month of love. You and Dean would have a baby in February.”
She chuckles. “Shut up.”
I look up at the clock on my wall. 9:00. “Aw crap. It’s 9:00. I’ve gotta get them to bed. I should’ve already given my mom her meds.”
“No worries. I’m pretty tired myself. We’ll talk later.”
“Yeah, okay. Night, S.”
“Night, Felix.”
AIDEN
“ALL RIGHT. THE Hendersons would like the plans redesigned for their living room. They want a more Tuscan feel, Mary said.”
“Seriously?” Alix growls. It’s so dang cute. I want to make up something else that Mary said to fix just to hear Alix’s response, but I hold it in. Frustratingly. Like I have for over two months. “How do you go from modern to Tuscan? It’s not even kind of close.”
I bite back a joke. “I don’t know. I don’t know much about interior design. I’m just the messenger. I asked her if she would like to talk to you directly about it, but she said she didn’t have time. They’re going out of town today—won’t be back until Sunday.”
“Ugh! Okay. Fine. Fine. I can do this, but it’s going to cost extra. It’s entirely new plans.”
“I already mentioned that to her.”
“Good,” Alix says shortly. “I’ll bring by the new designs next Wednesday. She going to be able to live with that?”
“I’ll make it okay,” I assure and try not to smile. Smiling would not go over well right now. I bite my lips so hard.
Alix takes a deep breath, flexing her hands out in front of her like she can’t handle one more thing, and then lets them relax at her sides. “Okay. Thanks. See ya.” She smiles to be polite, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.
I want to say more—to ask if she’s okay—but I don’t. “Bye.” I watch her exit, her short hair brushing against the back of her slender neck. As soon as the door closes behind her I groan. Loudly. I hear Dean’s low laughter from the next room.
“I’m dying. Slowly dying inside.” I lean against the doorjamb to his part of the office. “If I have to have one more professional conversation with Alix, I’m going to shoot myself.” The sarcasm is building. Soon I’m gonna explode all over her and push her further away.
Dean laughs. His amusement at my expense isn’t appreciated.
“I mean it, man. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“You did this to yourself.” He shakes his head with a knowing smirk, tippy tap tapping on his keyboard. I’m about the grab his hands to make them stop. Anything can annoy me right now. “You wanted to work with her and then you decided to be professional. You only have yourself to blame.”
“So that she would see I could be. I can be professional, responsible. But I don’t want to be anymore,” I exclaim and collapse on the couch in Dean’s office. “Professional with her, that is. I can still be responsible.”
He laughs again. “I can’t help you there.”
“She’s used to this now. I can’t go back without backlash. How long am I supposed to carry this out?”
“I don’t know, Aiden. This was your plan.” He pauses and looks at me. I don’t like the sound of that pause. “Just a thought. Don’t go throwing things, but what if…” I narrow my eyes. “What if,” he says cautiously, “it’s not in the cards for you two? You’ve gotta take that into consideration. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen when it’s supposed to. You can’t force it, Aide.”
“Can’t force?” I laugh humorlessly. “Dude. I’ve been waiting for like ten years! Does it look to you like I’m trying to force anything?”
“I know.” Dean lifts his hands to ward me off, possibly defend any possible punches thrown? “Why do you think I want you to think about the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she’s not the one for you. Ten years is a long time. You’ve tried pursuing her. You’ve tried backing off. Whatever tactic you’ve tried hasn’t worked. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
I exhale. Stop. Think. “Would you move on? If it were Sawyer, would you let her go?”
Dean stops typing and looks at me. He gets it. “Not a chance.”
I nod. “Okay then.”
“So, make it gradual. Don’t fling yourself at her. Just be you.” He shakes his head. “On second thought, don’t do that. Be friendly, more casual rather than the professional Mr. Ballard.” He laughs. “I’m sorry. Mister. That was weird.”
I smile. “Yeah. A bit.”
Dean sighs and turns back to his computer. “Let her come to you. If
I know you two at all, and after this ten-year charade I think I do, it’s possible this professional relationship is killing her too. She’ll cave eventually.”
Man, I hope so. “I can’t believe I’m twenty-seven years old and still asking my best friend to coach me on how to act around girls.”
“It’s a mind game we’ll never understand or win.”
“Well, somehow you seem to have mastered it.”
“Just learned how to play, my friend. I’m no expert, but Sawyer’s given me plenty of time to practice.”
***
After work I drop by my grandparents to fill in my grandpa about how things are going and to see Savannah. Before, I’d stopped by the grocery to pick up a few things Gran said they needed.
With my hands full, I shoulder my way through the screen and front doors, kicking the door shut behind me.
“Hello?” I call out as I walk toward the kitchen with the grocery bags.
Gran shuffles down the hallway from their bedroom. “Hello?” she calls back.
“Hey Gran. I brought the stuff you asked for.”
When she walks into the kitchen she kisses my cheek. “Oh thank you, grandson. Grandpa was going to have a conniption if he didn’t get his creamer for his coffee in the morning.”
“I got you covered. Where’s Savannah?”
She sighs. “Well, she wanted to go out to the drive-in with Reese and Sadie. Apparently there was some double feature they wanted to see. Since it’s the night before her first day of school, I told her it was too late on a school night for her to go. Right now she’s probably moping in her bedroom.” Gran begins pulling the groceries out of the plastic bags and lines them on the countertop.
“I’m gonna go say, ‘hey.’”
“Don’t poke the bear,” Gran hollers as I make my way down the opposite hall to Savannah’s bedroom.
I chuckle. Does she know me at all? I knock. “Vannah? Hey,” I say as I open the door slowly and peek around it. It’s empty. She’s not here. Her open curtain and cracked window are all the evidence I need.