Page 44 of Check You Out

I gawk at her. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t sleep well last night because I was thinking about it,” she says. Tears well in her eyes and her lower lip quivers. “There’s a not lot that I regret in my life, but thing is how things happened with my dad. We had an argument just before he got sick with Covid, and it was stupid. I don’t even really remember what it was, but I barely got a chance to say goodbye to him. I mean, sure, once he tested positive, I talked to my parents on Zoom, then he died and I–I—”

I reach my hand up to touch her cheek, rubbing the tear away with my thumb. “That sounds very traumatic, but you also had a good relationship with your dad. While mine…” I suck in air. “I’ve never had a good relationship with my father. He was verbally abusive and hyper critical.”

Her eyes grow wide, and I swear I can see them wobble in the dim light. “But, but you still should—”

I take a step back and run my hand through my hair. “No, Charlotte, no,” I groan out before closing my eyes and shaking my head. “No. No. No.”

“No, you’re not going to take him back? Or no, you haven’t decided?” She asks, reaching out to me, like she’s afraid that I’m going to run away. “Because I really think you—”

“I’m not interested in hearing this right now.”

“You don’t ever know what’s going to happen, and you could lose your dad. I don’t want you to feel the same regrets that I have.”

I twist out of her grip and take a step back from her, frustration coursing through me. My heart pounds in my ears, and my breathing intensifies. “Charlotte,” I blurt out. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Aidan,” she cries. “Listen, I was shattered when my dad died, like literally shattered.” She takes a step towards me, her hands reaching for mine. “I don’t want you to feel that same brokenness and feel regret on top of that. You’re going to regret not accepting your dad’s olive branch.”

I retreat from her, holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now.”

Charlotte comes closer to me, but again, I step back. “Aidan,” she pleas. “Just—”

“No!” I practically shout, and she startles. I begin again, softer this time. “No.” I point to my chest. “This is my decision to make and mine alone. You haven’t even met my dad. How can you just assume that everything’s going to be hunky dory if I take him back?”

“I don’t but—”

“That’s right, you don’t.” I bring my hands up behind my head to control my breathing. “But I’ve got thirty-two years of being the son of Daniel Talbot, and let me tell you, it’s fucking rough. I know you mean well, but I’m not someone you can just live vicariously through because your dad died. Remember, we promised to be harmless to each other, like Bri and Jacob in Yours Truly? Well, this isn’t being harmless right now, if anything I’m feeling pretty harmed. What happened to your promise?” I lower my hands and shove them in my pockets. “Look, I’ll talk to you later. Have a good night.” With that, I whirl away, my footsteps heavy and my chest tight.

“Aidan, wait? I’m—” Charlotte cries as she darts up behind me, grabbing my elbow.

I spin away, again twisting my arm out of her grip. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I’m tired and I’m frustrated and I just want to go home.” I need space and time to think. To replay every word of this conversation for reflection. “I’ve spent my entire life being told what to do and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.”

Her eyes well up with tears, although I’m not sure if I caused those, or if it’s because she’s still upset about her dad. Right now, I’m too angry to keep things straight.

“But I—”

“Stop,” I say in between gulps of air. “I can’t right now. Let me go.”

Her grip loosens on my arm, and she lets her hands fall to her side. “Ok,” she says, her voice small. “I’m sorry. Can we have some tea?”

“I need space. Have a good night,” I grind out, and whirl around in the direction of Main Street. Behind me, I hear her open and then close the door of her apartment, but I don’t turn back. I continue walking, not seeing or caring where I’m going. The movement of my legs and arms calms me. It’s not until I see the porchlight of my house that I realize that I’ve walked home on autopilot.

I plop down on the porch swing and bury my head in my hands, praying that Xander doesn’t see me and come out to interrogate me on how it went. I don’t think I can handle seeing him right now, even if he’d show sympathy and tell me that I didn’t fuck this up.

Because I did. I did fuck it up. Charlotte was only trying to help me by sharing her own very vulnerable experience, and I yelled at her. I fucking yelled at her.

19

Charlotte

30 Days until the Council Meeting

“I know Thelma, I know you’re starving,” I croon to the cat after she meows at me for a second time. She whines at me again, increasing the volume of her cry. “Give me a minute to finish this, and then I’ll go up and feed you.”

I’m about to close the shop after a busy Sunday afternoon, but in addition to closing out the register and the physical store, I’m trying to get a head on inventory before the month ends. These are the times that I miss Dad. We’d open a bottle of wine and do the accounting together on a Sunday night after the store closed. But we never actually finished the inventory. We’d end up sprawled on the floor or the comfy chairs, half-drunk and arguing over books.

Sighing, I scratch my scalp at the base of my skull. A dull ache throbs at my temple. I haven’t really eaten anything today thanks to the holiday weekend rush. I think the barometric pressure is dropping too, since the weather went from beautifully sunny this morning to dark angry gray clouds. What I wouldn’t give for a London Fog latte. That jolt of caffeine would really help me out right now.