Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance

by Adrian J. Smith

  “Fine. Ainsley Jacobs is twenty-one, a college student in her junior year, a creative writing major, a damn good writer, and she is so young.”

  “She is, and she isn’t. You said so yourself.”

  Sam squeezed her fingers. “Go on.”

  Meredith let out a breath and let go of his hands, leaning back into the couch and running her fingers under her eyes. “She’s not young in spirit, just in body. She’s been through a lot, so she gets more about life than someone normally her age. I don’t know why she hangs out with Adam Lansing because he is one of the most immature people around.”

  “He keeps her young.”

  “Perhaps. But she’s smart and should know better. She’s really smart, and she really is a damn good writer. She will hit it big someday if she pursues a career in it. She’ll hit it bigger than I could ever dream of it.”

  “Have you asked her what she wants to do?” Sam asked.

  Meredith shrugged, trying to think back and recall if it was something they had ever talked about. She couldn’t think of it, so she shook her head and looked over at him, expecting an answer.

  “Teach. She wants to go to graduate school, here if she can, and she wants to teach.”

  The teaching thing rang a bell, but it didn’t encourage any more information in her mind to come forward. “College?”

  “No. She wants to teach high school in a low income community.”

  “Oh boy,” Meredith said.

  “Exactly.”

  “She’s a fucking saint.” She reached for her wine and drank down the rest of it, wishing Sam hadn’t told her that. “A saint that’s untouchable. A saint that I—” She stopped. Her heart raced in her chest, and she shook her head, pushing the feeling back.

  But Sam wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t move, didn’t touch her, didn’t give her a moment. Sam finished her sentence for her, the one sentence she didn’t want to admit. “A saint that you love.”

  Meredith looked over at him, glaring. “It doesn’t feel like love.”

  “No, it doesn’t feel like it did with Sarah.”

  Thinking over his words, Meredith nodded in agreement. “Your right, it doesn’t feel like it did with Sarah.”

  “And it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t feel like that. It should feel completely and totally different.”

  “Then how am I supposed to know.”

  Sam grinned at that comment and took her hand then, sliding his thumb across the back of her fingers. “You’re supposed to know because you’re actually supposed to listen to your heart and think about it which you haven’t been doing. You’ve been avoiding it all as much as you possibly can.”

  “I can’t—I can’t make her go through what you went through.”

  “Is that what this is about? Mer—Jeremy and I were two years apart, and he was two years younger than me. Sickness doesn’t happen to just old people. For all you know, she could be the one to get sick and die before you. That’s part of the risk.”

  Meredith nodded. “I know. I just—I don’t want her hurt.”

  “She’ll be hurt either way. You’re both in far too deep for neither of you to be hurt in any direction you go. You’re going to scream and yell and fight if you stay together, and that’s going to hurt. If you don’t stay together, it’s going to hurt. That’s just part of life. Don’t waste it.”

  Sniffling, Meredith nodded again and felt the weight in her stomach fall away. Whatever had been keeping her from admitting it, Sam had stolen it right out from under her feet. She was in love, one hundred percent totally in love with Ainsley. And for the first time in her life, this love felt right.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ainsley had given it a few more weeks, but she couldn’t keep it in any longer. She was headed home the next evening for Thanksgiving and she wanted to talk to Meredith before she left. They’d hardly seen each other in the past few weeks because one or both of them was always busy. It wasn’t until the beginning of that week when Ainsley had wondered if Meredith was actively avoiding her.

  Adam had been a constant companion in the woes of studying and paper writing for Ainsley, but even he was sick and tired of hearing her thoughts on Meredith, and if she truly wanted to admit it, she was tired of talking about it. Ainsley had her down jacket wrapped around her body, keeping in all the warmth she could. They had no more classes after Thanksgiving and would run head first into finals. Ainsley was sure she wouldn’t see much of Meredith then—they would both be busy with work.

  Knocking on Meredith’s door Monday evening was her only option. She would be leaving in just under twenty-four hours to go home to her mom and step-father, and she certainly wanted to see Meredith before then. Her cheeks burned from the cold, and when Meredith didn’t come to the door right away, Ainsley almost left.

  Something in her gut told her to knock again. When she made a fist through her thick mittens and pounded on the door, she knew Meredith was there. As soon as the pounding stopped, soft jazz music filtered through the door. She wouldn’t leave the radio on unless she was there—Ainsley knew that. She pounded again, shivering in her boots as snow fell once again outside.

  Maybe her flight would get canceled and she would be able to stay at school for the holiday, or rather, stay with Meredith. Something in the thought made her stomach turn; something about it all felt off. But she couldn’t hang on to wisps of love anymore. She wanted the full thing. Pounding again, Ainsley yelled.

  “Come on, Meredith. I know you’re in there.”

  When the door opened, she pushed her way inside and chattered her teeth once the door was shut. Warmth from the heater enveloped her, and Ainsley didn’t want to leave again for quite some time. However, when she looked at Meredith, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be kicked out immediately.

  “Thank you,” Ainsley breathed out. “It’s cold outside.”

  She didn’t unzip her jacket, but she did pull off her mittens, wanting to at least make it seem like she might be staying. Ainsley watched carefully as Meredith stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, her green-blue eyes staring very directly at her. Nothing was said for more time than Ainsley cared to count, and when Meredith didn’t seem to want to say anything, Ainsley shook her head.

  “I haven’t seen you in a week except for in class, and you can’t even tell me hello?”

  “Why are you here?” Meredith asked, the bite in her voice echoing through the house.

  This is about to get interesting, Ainsley thought. “I’m here because we don’t normally go a week without talking or spending some time together outside of class. I apologize if you think that’s overstepping my bounds, but if you do think that, then I deserve an explanation.”

  Meredith sighed and lowered her arms. “I’m sorry—it’s just…it’s been a long week.”

  “For both of us.”

  “Take your jacket off. Stay awhile. I’ll get the wine.”

  “I—I can’t really stay all that long,” Ainsley said, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the hook after shoving her mittens into the pockets. She discarded her boots by the door and warmed her fingers, the heat in the house stinging her half-frozen cheeks. “I have a few papers to write before break, and then I need to get started on finals.”

  Meredith shrugged and only poured one glass of wine, sipping at it with her back turned to the counter and looking at Ainsley again with that cold look. Ainsley was at a complete loss. From what she was feeling to the way Meredith was acting, nothing was quite adding up. Moving in closer, Ainsley tried the only thing she could think of.

  She pressed her hand to Meredith’s waist and leaned in, pecking her lips quickly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more.”

  Meredith sighed, and Ainsley knew she had her. “We’ve both been busy. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Is Logan still coming for Thanksgiving?”

  Shaking her head, Meredith’s hand shook when she put it back on the counter to hold up her form. “No, he won�
��t be able to make it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ainsley whispered and cupped Meredith’s cheek.

  She moved in closer, kissing her again, slowly. Ainsley took it as slow as she knew how. Their lips touched and stayed together, a lingering chaste kiss. Sliding her hand back onto Meredith’s waist, she held on and kissed her again, this time parting her lips slightly. When Meredith opened her mouth in response, Ainsley felt something click inside her. Meredith was what she had needed all those nights before when she couldn’t sleep and Meredith was what she wanted for the rest of her life.

  They kissed again, deepening the embrace and getting lost in each other. Meredith’s hands roved over Ainsley’s back, and Ainsley struggled to stay in the moment, remembering why she had come there the first place. Pulling back with small kisses to Meredith’s lips and cheeks, she leaned in next to her ear and whispered the three words that wouldn’t leave her head.

  “I love you.”

  Meredith tensed. Every muscle in her body became rock hard, and Ainsley didn’t know what to do. Meredith said nothing back and instead pushed Ainsley away. Ainsley took one step, giving Meredith some room but not too much room, and she implored her with her gaze. It wasn’t that she didn’t need a response back right away, but she hadn’t expected to be shoved away so quickly.

  “I love you, Meredith. I can’t get over that,” she tried again.

  “Try.”

  The one word struck out. Meredith’s voice had broken on it, and Ainsley saw tears working into her eyes. Meredith turned around and grabbed her wine, and Ainsley stepped forward, their dance continuing. Ainsley was at a loss. Everything she had was in Meredith’s hands, and it seemed as though Meredith didn’t know what to do with it. After a few seconds had passed, Ainsley turned Meredith around so she could look her in the eye.

  “What are you so afraid of?” Ainsley asked.

  Tears sprung into Meredith’s eyes, and they fell freely down her cheeks. Ainsley hadn’t seen her cry since Jeremy and had never expected Meredith—with her strong and poised facade—to crack. Ainsley cupped Meredith’s cheek, but Meredith batted her hand away and brushed at her face. The tears were gone, but they were starting again, and Ainsley stood stock still.

  “What are you afraid of? Answer me.” Anger surged into her chest. She just wanted to figure it out, to have it all out on the floor so they could look at the pieces and make something of it. But if Meredith didn’t spill, then nothing would keep them together.

  “Everything,” Meredith said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Losing my job, financial stability, the life that I’ve known for the past twenty years. I don’t know how to live with someone. I don’t know how to be in a relationship with someone. I haven’t done it in two decades, so what makes me think I can do it now. I’m afraid—I’m afraid of being hurt again.”

  “Meredith,” Ainsley whispered, her heart aching. She moved in closer and grabbed Meredith’s hands. “Why are you so afraid?”

  Tears flowed down Meredith’s cheeks, and Ainsley felt her own working in her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Meredith uttered.

  Meredith wrapped her arms around Ainsley’s waist and hugged her tightly. Ainsley moved into the embrace and stayed as still as possible, enjoying the sensation of Meredith against her and wanting to comfort her in any way she could.

  After minutes of standing, Meredith tugged Ainsley to the couch and sat down, tears still in her eyes. “This is new for me,” she confessed. “It’s not something I’ve done before.”

  “Me either,” Ainsley said, her heart thumping in her chest. “I’ve never been in love like this before. It’s just as scary for me as it is for you.”

  “It’s not,” Meredith insisted. “It’s not.”

  Silence hung over them like a dark cloud, competing with any other emotions Ainsley had. She wanted to get up and leave, to put on her jacket and not look back. She needed to clear her head and her mind and figure out just exactly what was going on. Nothing was making any sense as of yet, and her proclamation of love to Meredith had gone the complete opposite way she had wanted it to. Maybe it really was just one sided. No, it can’t be, her heart whispered. She knew Meredith loved her just as much as Ainsley loved Meredith.

  Ainsley checked the clock above the mantle, hating that she had to leave soon. But she had a study session, and she couldn’t miss it. If she did, she was likely going to fail the exam, and that wouldn’t help anyone except by keeping her in college a semester or summer longer than she expected.

  “Talk to me,” Ainsley begged. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know what’s going. Honestly, I don’t. I’ve tried to figure it out, and each time I do, I get nowhere. I don’t know what is happening to me or to us.”

  “Is there an us?” Ainsley asked.

  Meredith glanced up at her, those pale blue-green eyes boring into her soul. Fear entered Ainsley’s chest, and tears threatened to spill, joining the ones Meredith had already shed. The one question hung in the air. Meredith sighed and pushed away, pacing around the room. Ainsley wished she had thought of it first, movement would help her think. Instead, she remained stationary as she sat on the edge of the couch cushion.

  When Meredith spun around, her lips parted, Ainsley held up her hand and shook her head. “Don’t answer that question. Your silence answers it enough.”

  She didn’t need to stay there any longer. Ainsley got up and shoved her feet into her boots, grabbing her jacket at the same time. She didn’t care if it wasn’t zipped—she just needed to get out of the house and away from her. Meredith spun her around, and Ainsley’s head rapped against the door when Meredith pushed against her.

  “Don’t—don’t go just yet. Let’s finish this conversation.”

  “If there is no us, then there is no conversation to be had.”

  “I just—” Meredith growled and turned around, walking away, her fists clenching. Ainsley watched her break down in front of her. Tears were gone, and anger had replaced any feelings of helplessness and fear.

  “Answer me this,” Meredith said. “Are you ashamed of this relationship?”

  “No.” Ainsley shook her head and dropped her jacket to the floor, making her point stronger. “What is there to be ashamed of?”

  “I’m your professor—doesn’t that bother you at all?”

  “Not anymore, and not really ever. It did a little at the beginning—I was worried you would see my interest in you as something else, that you would use it to grade me differently, but I know that’s not the case anymore.”

  Meredith nodded. “I would never have done that.”

  “I didn’t know you that well then.” Ainsley let out a breath, feeling as though they were making progress and working through the problems at hand. “I know that now, though.”

  “Good. Good.” Meredith sat on the arm of the couch and looked to the ground.

  Ainsley wanted to walk over and pull her chin up to look her in the eye. She could always read Meredith better when they were looking at each other. But she didn’t. She stayed still, giving Meredith as much space as she needed.

  “You haven’t told anyone about us,” Meredith whispered.

  Ainsley shook her head. “What?”

  “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

  “I told Adam.”

  Meredith stood up again, anger lashing through her tone. “Then you’re ashamed.”

  “I’m not. You’re the one who said not to tell anyone, but I told him. I had to tell someone, and he was safe. He won’t talk. I haven’t told anyone because I needed to see where this was going before I announced to the world I’m sleeping with my memoir prof!”

  “That’s it! Right there. See? You are ashamed.”

  “I’m not ashamed!” Ainsley yelled back, her voice raising to levels it hadn’t since she was a teenager. “I’m not ashamed, I promise you that. I just haven’t had the opportunity to tell anyone. I was planning on telling my mom when I g
o home. I want her to know, and I want her to be just as supportive as she can be about it, but I’m not sure she will be. And frankly, that doesn’t matter, because I want to be honest with her. I want her to know who I am in love with.”

  Meredith grimaced, tears slipping down her cheeks yet again. “This is ridiculous,” she said.

  “I agree. We’re fighting over nothing.”

  “We are not fighting over nothing.”

  “Then tell me,” Ainsley said taking a deep breath. “Tell me what we’re fighting over, because I don’t see it. I don’t see what the big problem is.”

  “That is the problem. You live in this world where there is love and that’s it, where love answers all questions and in love there are no problems. You live in a fairytale.”

  Ainsley felt as though Meredith had hit her over the head with a frying pan. If that was truly what she thought, Meredith was far from really knowing her. Taking a deep and steadying her breath, Ainsley shook her head. “I do not live in a fairytale. If I did, my dad would still be here. If I lived in a fairytale don’t you think this conversation would never have even started?”

  “I’m sorry,” Meredith said. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean.”

  “Damn straight you didn’t mean. You didn’t think. I don’t live in a world of knights in shining armor or princes on white horses. I gave up that world years ago.”

  “You insist on love. You insist that because of love everything will happen and fall into place. That’s not how it works!” Meredith punctuated the last few words. “You might not live in a fairytale, but you do not understand how love works.”

  “Then explain it to me. Oh, that’s right. You can’t because you can’t even admit that you love me.”

  Ainsley’s voice rang through the room. She took a deep breath and turned around when seconds passed and Meredith said nothing. She grabbed her jacket and threw it over her shoulders, stuffing her arms down her sleeves. She took her mittens and pulled them on while she pulled open the front door.

  “Love is complicated,” Meredith whispered.

  Ainsley looked at her sharply. “Don’t you think I know that? Doesn’t mean you can’t let it lead you.”