Good On Paper

by Jennifer Millikin

  I knew the moment Aidan left my bed. Before I reached over and found his space empty, I sensed he was gone. Perhaps he wanted to save us the awkwardness of waking up next to one another. Much like my question on the night of my drunken bath, we cannot go back. You cannot stop knowing something.

  Diego. And Shawn.

  The thought flies into my head. Diana knows.

  Why? Why does she stay? I don't understand. My heart is a little bit broken. These two people… The greatest love story… The whole world fell in love with their love. A book… A movie… On the outside, they look so perfect.

  So similar to my own parents. A pastor who abuses his wife. The main character in an epic love story is gay and cheating on his wife.

  I'm not sure what’s real anymore.

  And Aidan. Poor Aidan. How long has he been keeping this secret? It's no wonder he doesn't believe in the kind of love I read about.

  How can I face Diego and Diana this morning? And Shawn? Knowing their secret without them telling me about it first makes me uncomfortable.

  To delay my appearance, I take a long, hot shower. I dry my hair until I'm certain every strand is completely dry. I apply makeup, more makeup than usual, and I know that to Aidan this will be a dead giveaway.

  There's a knock at my door just as I'm pulling my sweater over my head. Assuming it will be Aidan, I throw it open.

  Diana stands there. She smiles consolingly. “Good morning, Natalie. Can I come in?”

  Nodding, I step back from the open door. Diana walks in and gestures at the bed. I sit down, and she comes to sit beside me, turning so one foot is on the bed and her other foot is propped on the sideboard. I do the same, turning to face her. Diana's hair is tied in a bun at the nape of her neck, and the ivory blouse she is wearing matches her skin tone.

  True to Diana's personality, she doesn't mince words. “Aidan told me what you saw last night.”

  I nod and swallow, unable to speak.

  “He told me you were pretty angry on my behalf.” Diana's lips curl into a smile. “I appreciate that.”

  “He said you already know.”

  Diana's gaze is soft, her eyes gentle, as though she is handling something delicate. “I have always known.”

  I gasp, and immediately put my hand over my mouth, then rip it away.

  “You don't have to hide your shock, Natalie. It's okay to feel that way.” Diana places one hand behind her. Supported by the bed, she leans back and starts talking. “I was twenty-two when I met Diego. He was here on a visa and I had just graduated college. At first, I didn't know he was gay. I was naïve, and he was very, very good at hiding it. By the time I found out, it was too late.” She shrugs. “I was already in love with him. And he was in love with someone else.” Diana's gaze is glassy, some place far away from this bedroom. “He loved Shawn, but his time in the U.S. was running out. His happiness meant everything to me, so I married him.”

  Diana looks back at me and winks, patting my knee. “Don't feel bad for me. I got a book and a baby out of it.”

  The book. I can picture the book on my mother’s shelf, with the original cover.

  “I didn't set out to lie to people. I'm not even really sure if I did lie. Somebody asked me if it was a book about me and my husband. I said yes. To be honest, I didn't foresee it becoming such a big deal.”

  “Oh please,” I mumble. “You're telling me you didn't know you were sitting on a gold mine of words?”

  Diana shakes her head. “I honestly didn't. My heart was broken, and I just needed a place to put my emotions. I wrote a story about my best friend and me, and our road to love. I changed some of the details and never told a soul.”

  “I won't tell anybody,” I assure her. “I don't know if I even believe it yet myself.” My head is still trying to wrap around everything. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Diana nods, waiting.

  “Are you happy?”

  She sighs deeply, gazing out the window that overlooks the driveway. “I am now, but I wasn't always. This choice has not been an easy one. There were times when I wanted to give up.”

  “Why didn't you?”

  She looks back to me. “The reasons why I did it in the first place still held true.”

  “That's very…altruistic of you.”

  She laughs. “I'm not a nun. There is someone else for me, too. He lives upstate, on a small ranch. Not a working ranch, just two horses and a whole lot of green grass.”

  I blink hard, trying not to show my surprise. At this point, I'm amazed anything could even surprise me.

  “Aidan also told me you brought your manuscript with you. May I see it?”

  I stare at her, stupefied. I brought the manuscript hoping something like this would happen, but I never actually thought that it would. I’m going to kill Aidan. Or hug him. I can’t decide.

  I stammer my answer, getting up to retrieve my overnight bag from where I'd stashed it under the bed after I emptied it. The only thing I left inside was my manuscript.

  Terror and excitement take turns for primary emotion as I hand over the spiral-bound stack.

  “What's it about?” Instead of looking at the manuscript, Diana fixes her stare on me.

  “What's it about?” I echo her question, my voice high-pitched. I wrote all seventy thousand words, but to distill the entire book into a few measly sentences feels impossible.

  “I hate that question too, but you're going to have to learn how to answer it.” She looks at me expectantly.

  “Okay. Um… well.” The fingers on my right hand trace a pattern on my jeans. I take a deep breath and try to focus. “It's a love story told in reverse. It starts with a couple meeting to sign their divorce papers. They have with them a box of letters and predictions written to each other over the years. They promised themselves if there were ever a problem with their marriage they would read each other's words before making an irrevocable decision. The story explores the fragility of marriage and how even the tightest connection can be weakened, and the reader will see what a lifetime together can truly amount to.”

  Diana’s eyes are rapt, her attention still on me. “What happens in the end? Do they end up getting a divorce?”

  A satisfied smile creeps on to my face. “You'll have to read the book.”

  Diana pretends to fan herself with my manuscript. “You got my attention. Do you mind if I read it?” She lifts the manuscript a few inches into the air.

  “Yes,” I shout, my hands flying above my head in excitement.

  Diana laughs and stands. “I assume you're hungry? Aidan was starting to make parfaits before I came up here. He said you like the fancy kind. I'm not sure what that means.”

  “He's probably re-creating something from a restaurant we go to.”

  Diana smiles. “He loves you.”

  The smile falls from my face. “What?” Memories of how I spent half the night flood my mind.

  “What? You know he loves you. You are the only person he spends time around other than those roommates of his.”

  And Allison. But that will be over soon, if it’s not already.

  “Right,” I say, trying to recover. “You caught me off guard, that's all. Of course I know he loves me."

  Getting up from the bed, I adjust my sweater and follow Diana out of my room. She pauses at the top of the stairs and places a hand on my wrist. In a low voice, she says, “Everyone knows you know. You might see them act differently now. Though honestly, I'm not sure. This is uncharted territory for us."

  She starts down the stairs, and I follow, mentally preparing myself for whatever changes I'm about to walk into.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Aidan announces. Setting his mug of steaming hot coffee on the table, he takes a seat across for me and looks at me with a serious gaze.

  I look at Aidan's dad and Shawn for a clue as to what Aidan is talking about, but they only shrug. It's been twenty-four hours since everything with them was out in the open, and not a lot has changed
. I had prepared myself for an about-face of behavior. Turns out, I didn't need to.

  “What?” My trepidation can clearly be heard. Years of knowing Aidan has taught me to be wary when he announces surprises.

  Aidan plucks an apple slice from the cutting board in the middle of the table and pops it in his mouth. He chews, swallows, then says, “We are going on a bike ride.”

  I point beyond the walls of this nice, warm house. “Out there? No way. It's freezing.”

  “That's what jackets are for. And hats. And gloves. And scarves.”

  “How do you know I brought all those things?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

  “Even if you didn't, my mom has all that too.” Aidan sits back, his eyes on me. I get the feeling he's waiting for me to continue to challenge him.

  Pointing outside again, I say, “I’m not riding on that road. There are people in Porsches who drive way too fast.”

  Aidan laughs and shakes his head. “I found a bike trail on Google Maps. Are you done arguing yet?”

  Shawn gets up from the table. “I don't know if she'll ever be done arguing.” He winks at me and walks from the room, Aidan's dad following him out.

  Grabbing the remaining apple from the cutting board, I push back from the table and rise. “Let me grab my jacket. And all my other winter gear.” I make a face as I say it.

  “Meet me out front in five minutes. I'll fill water bottles for us.”

  I head upstairs, unsure why Aidan wants to exercise in the cold.

  I make it out front ten minutes later, bundled up in all my cold-weather clothes.

  “You’re late,” Aidan says, opening up the passenger door of his dad's Range Rover.

  “Did you know people dressed as marshmallows are more likely to fall down the stairs?” Carefully I climb inside the car and place my hands on my knees, turning to look at Aidan. He stands with one hand propped on the door frame, his mouth open.

  “You fell down the stairs?”

  “No. I caught myself.”

  Relief washes over his face. Wagging his finger at me, he says, “No falling off the bike.” The door shuts before I can answer him.

  “I can't promise that,” I say to the empty car. I don't think I've ridden a bike since high school.

  Aidan gets in and starts the car. He starts driving, and I turn around to look for the bikes.

  “They're attached to the back. There's a bike mount.”

  “I didn't realize your dad is a biker.” I pause, catching my bottom lip between my teeth as I try and find the right word. “Cyclist? Is it called a cyclist? Bikers wear leather chaps. I think.”

  Aidan makes a right turn out of the driveway and onto the main road. “He and Shawn ride bikes. And, yes, they would be called cyclists.”

  “Got it,” I nod, tucking my hands between my knees.

  “My mom said she started your manuscript last night.”

  My heart does a flip-flop. I haven't seen Diana since she said goodnight to us last night before heading up to bed. She wasn't at breakfast this morning.

  “How does that make you feel?” Aidan glances at me, then back to the road.

  “Terrified.”

  “Why? Your work is great.”

  “According to one person.”

  “My opinion doesn't count?” Aidan grabs his chest with his right hand. “I'm hurt.”

  “You know what I mean.” I picture Diana in her favorite armchair, curled up and flipping the pages of my manuscript. “What if she hates it?” The thought makes me want to wretch right here in this fancy SUV.

  “She might.”

  “Aidan!”

  He rolls his eyes. “She won't. But you have to have thick skin. Some people will love it. Some people will hate it. It's the nature of the beast.”

  “I know, but…” My voice trails off. That manuscript, it's my baby. My pride and joy. It's where I've poured my heartache and my euphoria. “Can I include some kind of disclaimer in place of a dedication?” I'm only half kidding.

  Aidan chuckles. “Let's pretend you can. What would it say?”

  “Please be kind. A real human with feelings wrote this.”

  Aidan makes a left turn with one hand. The other runs over the stubble on his chin. “I was thinking of something more direct.”

  “Like?”

  “Don't be an asshole.”

  “Asshole behavior is subjective.”

  “True. I guess we're going with your disclaimer then.”

  Aidan pulls into a small parking lot where three other cars are parked.

  “You ready for this?” He offers me a fist across the center console.

  “No,” I respond, bumping his fist with my own anyway.

  We get out and Aidan unhooks the bikes from the rack.

  “Get on.” He pushes one bike toward me. “I need to make sure the seat isn't too high before you start to ride it.”

  I do as he says, then climb off so he can make adjustments. When he's finished, he places the tools in the back of the car and pushes a button on the trunk. Aidan ducks out of the way and it closes on its own.

  “Here.” He hands me a helmet. I take it, making a face.

  “Safety first, Natalie.” Aidan makes a show of placing his own helmet on his head and buckling it below his chin.

  I do the same, mumbling, “Don't use your teacher voice on me.” I know wearing a helmet is the right thing to do, but an immature, superficial part of me thinks I look goofy.

  Swinging a leg over his own bike, he climbs on and places one foot on the ground beside him. He gazes at me expectantly, so I follow suit, using my left foot to push up the kickstand. I wobble at first, but a moment later my muscle memory takes over.

  Aidan has already taken off, but I'm slow to catch up. After a minute of pedaling I feel more confident, and quickly I’m up to speed with Aidan. Whoever maintains this path does a good job. It’s mostly free of rocks and leaves. The cold air whips my face.

  For the most part, Aidan leads the way. I don't mind. He seems to know where he's going, and I have no idea.

  After a while, Aidan pulls off to the side. He reaches between his legs and pulls out a bottle of water from his bottle mount. He nods to my bike, and I follow his eyes. Below me, snuggly fitted in a holder, is a bottle of water.

  “Thank you for putting that there,” I tell him, grabbing for the water and taking a big drink. I’m more than a little exerted. Walking around New York City isn't the cardiovascular event I thought it was. Then again, it doesn't help that I am catching cabs and Ubers more than I probably should.

  “Want to go a little more?” Aidan asks. The wind picks up and sends my hair swirling around my face.

  “Sure,” I say, attempting to spit hair out of my mouth.

  Aidan leans over and pushes my hair back from my face. His hand lingers just a fraction of a beat too long.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  His question confuses me. “Why would I be mad at you?”

  “Because I didn’t tell you about my parents.”

  “Not at all. It wasn’t your secret to tell.”

  He gazes at me but says nothing. Suddenly he jumps on his bike and takes off.

  It takes me a moment to get my bearings, and in that time Aidan is already far ahead of me. I have to race to catch up, and Aidan keeps turning around to check on me.

  “You okay back there, Maxwell?” Aidan yells out.

  Hearing my maiden name takes me by surprise, and I falter. Regaining my balance, but not my composure, I keep pedaling.

  We ride on for another ten minutes, and Aidan pulls off to the side of the path again. This time he gets off the bike. I do too, removing my helmet and shaking out my hair.

  “It's fun, right?” Aidan smiles as he speaks and unbuckles his helmet. He pulls it off, and his hair sticks up everywhere.

  I walk over, reaching out and running my hand through it. My fingers close over a small section and I lift it up. “I don't think I've ever seen your hair so
long. You should get a haircut before the wedding this afternoon.” I let go of Aidan's hair and step away.

  “I already called the barber my dad likes and he doesn't have any openings today.” Aidan shrugs. “I guess I'll just be scraggly in all of their pictures.”

  “I could cut your hair,” I offer. I've never done it before, but it doesn't look that hard.

  Aidan eyes me. He doesn't need to ask if I've ever cut hair. He knows I haven't.

  “Okay,” he says.

  My eyes fly open. I didn't really think he’d agree. “Great,” I say, feigning confidence in my ability.

  Aidan reaches down and grabs his water bottle, holding it out as if to toast me. I grab my own and tap it against the bottom of his. We finished drinking and get back on our bikes. It’s downhill, so it's easier going back than it was coming in. We don’t stop again until we reach the car.

  Aidan attaches the bikes to the rack, and we leave. After we start to drive, Aidan asks, “Are you ready to go watch Malachi and Karis make the worst decision of their lives?”

  “Aidan, seriously? Some people really do get happy endings.”

  “Yeah, but only if they go to the massage parlors where they have a secret menu.”

  This time, I don't hold back. I slug him right on his upper arm.

  He groans, pretending like it hurt.

  I give him a dirty look. “You're foul.”

  He holds up one hand while the other is on the steering wheel. “Guilty as charged."

  Crossing my arms, I turn to look at him as he drives. “Things didn't work out for me and Henry. Things did not work out for my parents. And your parents… Well, they have a very unique relationship. But that doesn't mean all relationships fail.”

  “All the relationships you just listed looked good on the outside. And look how broken they were on the inside. What hope does anyone have if even the best-looking matches fail?”

  “Honestly, Aidan? I don't know. All I know is that it's worth finding out.”

  Aidan stares at me. His eyes are unfathomable, full of things he can't say, won't say, maybe even things he cannot begin to decipher.

  We are in Diana's bathroom. It's monstrous, a long countertop with two sinks on one side, a large tile shower on the opposite side of the room, and in the center is an oversized, clawfoot tub. I came in here ahead of Aidan and prepared the space. Between one of the sinks and the tub is a stool, and I’ve laid a towel out on the edge of the tub. We stopped at the drugstore on the way home from our bike ride and picked up a pair of trimming shears. They lay on top of the towel, gleaming in the overhead light.