The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) (44 page)

That wasn’t exactly a comforting answer. But he wouldn’t be here telling me all of this if he wanted her for himself. So he was intervening because he loved Aubrey enough to want her to be happy, even though he disliked me? Could I allow myself to believe him? I wanted to—so badly!

“I appreciate your candor.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “So now what do I do? She left tutorial early. Should I call her? Try to get her to meet me somewhere?”

Something in my expression must have reached him because he took two steps toward me and sighed. He almost looked like he felt sorry for me.
Almost.

“Listen, I’m gonna to tell you this because, for some reason, Aubrey believes you might be able to make her happy. Frankly, I couldn’t care less if you dropped off the face of the earth right now, but I’m trying to think of someone other than myself. You might want to try that some time,” he said.

He paused, and for a second, I thought he might have changed his mind, but then he continued, speaking as if he were sharing top secret government information.

“A few of us are having dinner out later. Then there’s a semi-formal party at the Kap house at eight o’clock. I can tell you right now that she is gonna look kick-ass hot. I’ve seen her in the dress she plans to wear, and it’s smokin’. I suggest you eat a hearty slice of humble pie, try to rein in your gargantuan ego, and do something tonight to fix what you’ve totally fucked up. If you don’t? You could lose her once and for all. I happen to know there’s someone who’s gonna be there tonight who’s mighty interested in, I don’t know,
picking up the pieces,
shall we say.”

“But this person is not you?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said.

So, now I had new competition? Could this get any worse?

“Well, thanks for the info. And for what it’s worth, I do appreciate you coming here today to set things straight. Aubrey is lucky to have you as a friend,” I added as sincerely as I could.

“Damn straight she is,” he said.

“But you know I can’t go to that party, right? I don’t expect you to believe this, but we’ve been trying to keep a low profile. Given my position, going to a frat party is out of the question,” I explained.

“So, get there close to eight and hang tight outside. I’ll watch for you. I’ll do what I can. But let me make one thing absolutely clear: I meant what I said earlier.” He pointed a finger at me. “If you and Aubrey manage to mend your fences, you’d better not hurt her again. If you do, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Duly noted.”

He jammed his hands in his pockets, and after one last warning look, he walked off toward the paths leading to Queen’s Park.

I didn’t waste any time. I threw my things onto the passenger seat and hopped in the car. I was about to pull out when I remembered the bag Julie had given me. I pulled it out of my laptop bag. A folded piece of paper was stapled to the outside of the plastic. I gently pried the sheet free. On it was Aubrey’s handwriting, but Ophelia’s words:

“...remembrances of yours
That I have longed long to re-deliver.
I pray you, now receive them.”

Jesus. A series of flashbacks unfolded before me: Sitting beside Aubrey at the Hart House Theatre as Hamlet and Ophelia’s shocking break-up scene played out on the stage; the intoxicating feeling of being so close to her in the confines of the theater and wanting to lean over to kiss her; later, knowing she was ill and that I was powerless to help her; and the desperate envy I’d felt when Matt had appeared to escort her upstairs to their apartment. It was then that the seed of my jealousy—apparently an unsubstantiated one at that—had taken root, only to grow insidiously in my heart over the course of the past three weeks.

I shook my head to clear the painful images from my mind before reaching into the bag.
The calendar
. Aubrey had given it back. I opened it up to March—she’d stopped counting down. Monday March ninth bore the last red X. I closed the calendar with a dejected sigh and placed it on the seat beside me.

I reached into the bag again and pulled out my black T-shirt. I unrolled it, and the striped gloves fell out. I held the T-shirt to my face and breathed deeply. I could still smell my cologne, but Aubrey’s unmistakable fragrance was there as well—the fruity soap or perfume she used. So she had worn it, then? Perhaps on Monday night, before the emotional upheaval of Tuesday? But now she wanted nothing else in her possession that would remind her of our brief relationship.

Tossing the shirt and gloves on the passenger seat, I took one last look inside the bag. There was a piece of paper at the bottom—a page torn from her
Norton Anthology
. It was from Act III of
Othello
, and one of Iago’s lines had been highlighted:

“Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.”

In the margin, Aubrey had written:

You’re an intelligent man, Daniel.
I trust you’ll be able to figure this out.

I collapsed back into my seat. Holy Christ. Those words on the page—Iago’s—pointed out how easy it is to find proof on which to base accusations when one’s suspicions completely overtake all rational thoughts.

What had I done? I thought I might actually be ill.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Matt was right. I’d screwed up—badly. How the hell was I going to redeem myself? Was it too late? I peeled out of my parking spot. I had a million things to do, and I needed to get started. Now.

As I drove, I frantically planned my route home, working in a trip to the dry cleaners to pick up my suit. Then I dropped in to the barber for a trim. Before heading home, I stopped for gas, tacking on a car wash.

My thoughts swam in circles as I contemplated Matt’s visit. After hating him so unequivocally for so many weeks, it was hard to come to terms with his actions today. He’d been harboring as much animosity for me as I’d had for him, yet he’d come to see me specifically to plead Aubrey’s case. That took an enormous amount of selflessness. His generosity shamed me. He’d completely shown me up—proven he was the better man. How could I possibly rise above that?

The answer loomed before me, as obvious as it was inevitable. I needed to tell Aubrey the truth.

All of it.

Getting ready to head over to the Kap house later that evening, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering whether or not I should shave. Normally I did when I wore a suit, but Aubrey seemed to have a thing for whiskers, and I needed every brownie point I could scrape together. I decided against both shaving and a tie, leaving my white collared shirt open at the neck.

I smiled as I put on cologne, remembering how she’d licked my jaw on Friday after we’d gone out for lunch. Such a turn-on. What was it about this woman that made me so insane and inspired me to behave so irrationally? I’d never considered myself a jealous person, and I had certainly never been particularly violent. I’d run the gamut of extreme emotions this week.

Was it foolish to hope that I’d be able to cap the night off with extreme relief? After her behavior today and now that she’d returned everything I’d given her, would she even consider giving me a second chance? I closed my eyes, trying to remember exactly what Matt had said.

I don’t think you’re out of the game just yet
.

Jesus, I hoped he was right.

I collected everything I’d need for the evening, pocketing my phone, my iPod, my wallet, and keys. I pulled on my suit jacket and overcoat, and then I was off to the Kap house to try to fix the spectacular mess I’d made. I willed myself to drive calmly and be patient—I’d always been intolerant of crappy driving, but it seemed that Toronto’s worst drivers were on the street tonight.

At ten past eight, I pulled up to the curb about half a block away from the frat house. True to his word, Matt was out front, talking to another guy who was alternately taking drags from a cigarette and chugging from a plastic beer cup. I called out to him, and he sauntered down the pathway to join me.

“Daniel,” he said, nodding curtly.

“She’s in there, Matt?”

“Yep.”

“How is she?”

“She’s doing okay. You’d better brace yourself. She looks fierce. I’ll try to get her out here.”

“Okay, I’ll wait here. And thanks, man.” I grabbed his arm as he turned. “No, really, Matt. Thanks. I mean it.”

He shrugged out of my grasp. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He disappeared inside the house, and I paced back and forth as the minutes ticked by. I was just beginning to think Matt wouldn’t be able to get her outside when finally he reappeared at the door with Aubrey trailing behind him. Even from this distance, she looked phenomenal. Matt pointed down the road to where I stood. I raised my hand to her—a quiet greeting.

She shook her head vehemently, stepping back through the door. Matt grabbed her by the shoulders and seemed to be trying to reason with her. He steered her down the steps and took off his suit jacket, draping it around her. She walked reluctantly down the pathway, pushing her arms into the sleeves before crossing them tightly across her chest.

Well, thank you again, Matthew Miller.

Sure enough, once she was standing before me, I had no words. She looked so beautiful, delicate, and strong at the same time.

“Hi,” I said, my voice tinny in my ears.

“What is it, Daniel?” She sounded emotionally drained.

“Can we talk?”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” She looked at me in utter disbelief.

“I know you’re angry with me. I don’t blame you. But I’d appreciate it if you’d hear me out.”

Her look of disbelief transformed—her jaw set and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I asked you to hear me out on Tuesday, but you ignored me. Why does everything have to be on
your
terms all the time?”

I was at a loss for what to say because she was absolutely right. I hadn’t responded to her when she’d needed to talk, and now here I was, expecting her to drop everything to listen to me. I was giving all new meaning to the term “double-standard.”

“And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m actually busy right now. Tuesday night I was
all
yours
. One hundred percent committed to being with you. You saw something you chose to misinterpret and wouldn’t let me explain. Now you’ll have to deal with the outcome of that decision.”

I hadn’t thought this would be easy, but I’d flattered myself into believing she might listen to what I had to say. Clearly I’d overplayed my hand.

“You’re absolutely right. I—I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to your evening. I shouldn’t have come. I thought that if—”

“What? You thought that if
what?
That if you came here to
surprise me
—all dressed to the nines, looking hotter than hell with your hair cut and your sexy whiskers—that you could charm me senseless? Did you think I’d fall all over you and forget everything? This isn’t a movie, Daniel.”

Fuck, she had my number. “Well, yeah, something like that, to be honest. Hey, a guy can hope, right?”

She sighed in exasperation, seemingly torn. Her teeth were chattering. She was totally underdressed for the weather. I pushed aside my selfish desire for resolution.

“Go back inside. You’ll catch your death. I’m sorry I interrupted your evening. I’m a little late coming to the table, and you have every right to be pissed with me. We’ll talk on your terms—you say the word and I’m there, okay?” I started to turn away.

“Ten minutes,” she blurted. “I’ll give you ten minutes.”

I looked back at her gratefully. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Let me go grab my coat.”

Air rushed out of my lungs. “Thank you, Aubrey. My car is down the block. It’ll be warmer than talking out here. I’ll wait for you.”

As I said those words, I realized I meant them in more ways than she could possibly imagine. If she needed time to forgive me, to sort out her feelings, to consider her options, well, I would wait for her. As long as necessary.