Page 78 of Fall Fake-Out

This gets me a smile. “No, he did not.”

“Alright, if he didn’t have a ‘stache, then what was it about him specifically that your mom didn’t like?”

“He just didn’t seem responsible or stable. He wasn’t a sure bet. He represented everything she didn’t want for me, which naturally made me want him more.”

Of course it did. That’s the most Ari thing I’ve ever heard.

“I knew he wasn’t end-game material.”

That catches my attention. “You did?”

“Absolutely.” There’s no hesitation. No uncertainty. Just honesty. “I knew exactly who he was. I just thought eventually he’d become somebody else or at least grow up a little more.”

Suddenly, I understand. Everybody thinks Andy fooled her, but that’s not what happened. Ari fooled herself. Not because she’s stupid. Because she hoped. She trusted a man she shouldn’t have.

And that’s almost worse.

“He couldn’t keep a job,” she continues. “He always wanted to surf, or play video games, or go on some adventure with his friends. He needed a car, but his credit was awful, so I cosigned.”

“You cosigned?”

“We were engaged.” She lifts one shoulder. “It was our car, and he promised he’d make the payments.” Ari’s laugh has no real humor behind it. “He didn’t.”

We stop on the bridge without even discussing it. The river flows beneath us, dark and steady, like the background music to our conversation.

“He started disappearing on surf trips. Sometimes for weeks.”

My stomach sinks.

“I’d be teaching school while he was off at the beach somewhere. If he missed a car payment, I’d cover it.”

“Ari…”

She keeps talking like she needs to finish now that she’s started. “Then, last May, he called off the engagement. He packed up his stuff while I was at work, and he left.”

I stare at her, watching how she uses a casual shoulder shrug to protect herself from the pain.

“He kept the car. He still has it.”

“You’re still paying for it?”

Ari looks away, which is answer enough.

“Ari.”

“I know. But if I stop, my credit gets destroyed.” She shrugs again. “That’s why I had to move home. I couldn’t pay for an apartment, my car, and his car. I was out of money. Plus, all his friends were my friends, and once he left, I had nobody.”

I don’t say anything. She doesn’t need me to give advice or anything like that. She just needs me to listen.

“But the worst part about coming back to your hometown is telling everyone your life story like it’s some kind of coherent story you endorse.”

This makes me smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I’d endorse my own life story either.”

“Oh, come on. You’re the principal.”

“Barely.” I laugh.

She faces me on the bridge, letting her hip rest against the railing. “Well, it’s more than I have going for me.”