Chapter 11: Avoidance

October 1, 2017

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Chapter Cast:

Darren, Male, 53
- Narrator, retired, father of Gwen and Victoria (Vic)
- 5’11, beige skin, 195lbs, cropped greying brown hair
Audrey, Female, 15
- High school student, daughter of Duncan and Theresa
- 5’9, pale skin, 135lbs, light-green eyes, straight auburn hair over her shoulders
Gwen, Female, 15
- High school student, daughter of Darren, sister of Victoria
- 5’5, beige skin, 130lbs, shoulder-length wavy black hair
Victoria (Vic), Female, 14
- Eighth-grade student, daughter of Darren, sister of Gwen
- 5’3, beige skin, 115lbs, wavy neck-length light-brown hair
Joyce, Female, early-80s
- Wife of Herman, grandmother of Audrey, mother of Theresa
- 5’6, beige skin, 115lbs, bobbed salt-and-pepper hair
Herman, Male, early-80s
- Husband of Joyce, grandfather of Audrey, father of Theresa
- 6’0, beige-olive skin, 180lbs, thin short gray hair

I think about my own death from time to time, and it was one such moment of reflection that I realized something less obvious which had so strongly attracted me to Audrey. Well, it wasn’t just one thing. She was intelligent and witty, passionate and beautiful. She was driven, determined, and disciplined. She had a soft side and great strength. All that and more should demand that I give no further explanation to myself for how I’d come to fall for her.

But thinking about my own death made me realize that Audrey’s youth was also a key. I was in my fifties, and though I hoped to have another two or three decades of good health and a reasonably-comfortable life, I was old enough to know that I’d seen more days in my past than remained in my future.

We all look for ways to live forever. Some turn to religion and the post-death promises made. Others look to art and music and academics to add to the body of culture and knowledge for those left behind. And some people seek to form relationships with people who far outlive them in hopes that the positive impact would be meaningful to at least one person. Sure, I had my daughters, and they would surely outlive me, but that personal connection, the intimate, romantic interplay I’d had with Audrey, having that survive my death in her memories would have been wonderful and welcome. Certainly, this was part of my unconscious desire to live beyond my years.

Realizing that Audrey would outlive me by some decades was a somber recognition. I knew what it was like to lose a loved partner. It isn’t easy, and when it happens to someone so young after a long, strong relationship, the one left behind can often flounder trying to recover. I’d had my girls to keep me mostly steady after my wife died, but it took a lot out of me. I felt older than my years as a result, and that just reinforced the age difference between Audrey and me.

Why would I want Audrey to go through that? Sure, in all relationships that last long enough, one partner would outlive the other, but usually, there is a similarity of expectations, people near the same age who were in the same stage of life. You never knew when the other might die, but the older you got, the more certain it was that it would happen soon. I was getting old enough that I could die before Audrey hit thirty, maybe even twenty. How could I even consider wanting the teen to renew our relationship only to have me break her heart again by passing away?

Morbid thoughts like those slid through my mind often during the days between last leaving Buffalo and the day Audrey arrived at her grandparent’s door in a cab. I can’t say that I’d been completely able to move on, but I had been able to let the hurt fade away, mostly. My daughters finished up their freshman and eighth-grade years and started summer break. They flew out to be with my sister again where Gwen was also enrolling in a prestigious summer dance school. The girls would stay about six weeks. It wasn’t planned, but when my eldest had been accepted into the limited-entry program in Aruba, it was a no-brainer for her to go.

Vic was not as hot on leaving. Her leg was still healing but she was getting around without the crutches most of the time. She’d hoped to stay in Houston where she could spend the days with her friends. Instead, I thought it best if the sisters kept together instead of staying apart, and Vic reluctantly agreed to go. I’d found her some activities offered by the local library there which allowed her to go on an archaeological dig and other trips which she should enjoy.

It meant I’d at least have fewer reasons for Audrey to want to come over. If my girls had been around, they’d have surely invited my ex to join them in the pool. I wondered if Audrey would come over as freely or as often without Gwen and Vic to create a buffer.

June in Houston is hot. Not as hot as July and August, but still hot. It hadn’t rained in three weeks, and what little breeze my neighborhood got had been missing for days. I sat out on the front porch in my button-up boxers and no shirt, drinking scotch in the 4pm heat and reading a book. I’d given up the one or two afternoon cigarettes I used to enjoy. I kept a pack around just in case I got the urge, but seeing the way Duncan had died convinced me to end my vice.

I hadn’t asked Joyce and Herman for the date Audrey would arrive. I mostly didn’t want to know. I was trying to stay muted, numbed, unwilling to let even a moment of what used to be come to the surface. I couldn’t help the regular ‘what if’ thoughts which bounced around my head from tempting me to play that game, but I generally resisted, not testing the wall I’d built up around my feelings for Audrey.

She stepped out of the cab dressed for the heat. A thin, light-yellow, florally sun dress came down to her tanned, shapely calves, sandals on her feet, a small white purse tucked under one arm. Herman and Joyce came out to meet her and I looked away, not wanting to take in any more. Something tried to stir deep inside me, but I downed the rest of my scotch and fixed my eyes on the words on the pages, slightly blurred, in my lap.

After a while, I heard their front door close but I didn’t look up. Instead, I decided to head inside, pour another scotch, and pass out on the couch.

A knock on the door woke me from what had been an uneasy nap. My head ached dully and my body felt deflated. I’d had one too many drinks in the heat, and I knew it. I downed a couple of acetaminophen on my way to the door. Peering through the eyehole, I saw Joyce standing there.

“Darren, so good to see you today,” she said as her arms closed around me in her typical greeting hug. “You feeling okay?”

I shook my head and said, “Just got a bit too hot today. Was napping until...”

“Until I woke you,” Joyce jumped in, “Oh, Darren, I’ve interrupted you there. Sorry about that. I’ve come over to invite you to have dinner with us. I know your girls are gone and Audrey has just come in a while ago. We’d love for you to come over...”

I shook my head again, and raised my hand to emphasize my words, “Not tonight, Joyce. Thank you, I appreciate the offer, but not tonight...”

“Ah.” Joyce watched me a moment and she probably knew it was more than my headache keeping me from joining them. “Well, we’ll be up for a few hours if you change your mind. Just come on over.”

“Thanks,” I told her as politely as my head would allow and then closed the door behind her when she left.

Having Audrey next door was going to be very difficult. I didn’t want to be an asshole to Joyce and Herman. I was a regular guest in their house, at least up until Audrey and I had our fling. I just couldn’t put myself in a position to see Audrey regularly. I just couldn’t. I’d be her friend, whatever that would mean, but seeing her daily was out of the question.

Fling. It was a word I hated as soon as it popped into my head. From the outside, how could it have been anything else? But it was a word loaded with baggage. Cheap. Easy. Convenient. Pointless. The phrase just a fling was thrown around to encompass those things. Nowhere did it spell out love or deep connections or all the million other ways the relationship I’d had with Audrey had not been a fling. And yet, that was the word I used, talking to myself, to describe those intense spare weeks.

Audrey sent me a text message that evening, letting me know she’d gotten in. I replied “Glad you made it safe. I hope you like living here.” Nothing more, and she didn’t respond.

The next time I saw or spoke to Audrey was four weeks after she’d arrived. I’d avoided any chance of seeing her, turning down dinner invitations and not returning the two texts Audrey had sent simply asking if I would like to come over. I just couldn’t let myself be tempted.

I’d walked down to a deli I liked in one of the small strip malls near my house. I’d gotten my usual reuben and a pickle, sitting inside with the cold air conditioning. The door opened, and I stared as Audrey stepped inside. She wore slick aviator-style sunglasses, a grey tank-top, and cutoff blue jean shorts. She looked older than I’d remembered. It had really only been a few weeks since I’d last taken notice of her, but over that time the young woman had filled out a bit, perhaps put on a touch of weight. Her tank-top showed her growing breasts, enough so as to leave tantalizing cleavage for all to view.

I said nothing, and at first, she didn’t see me even as she slid her sunglasses up past her forehead and stepped through the door. I glanced briefly as she walked to the counter and placed her order. A reuben with a pickle, same as my lunch. I decided I couldn’t simply ignore that the young woman I still loved was in the same room. “Audrey,” I called out just above the drone of the AC.

She turned and saw me. For a long second, maybe two, she just watched me, her eyes on mine. It was still there. In her eyes, I could see it. The same feelings I’d buried were trying to burst out. Goddamn this is hard!

“Hey,” she replied, taking a few steps in my direction. She looked so fucking beautiful.

“Want to sit with me?” I offered tentatively.

“Y-yeah. Sure.”

Audrey sat down and held her order ticket in her hand, not quite looking at me but not far from doing so, either. I broke the ice. “How have you been?”

“Alright, yeah. Alright. You?” she asked. I could feel the table rocking slightly from where she was nervously kicking her legs underneath. The order ticket rattled as her fingers sought motion.

“Doing okay.” A pause, then I asked, “How’s your mom?”

“She’s good,” Audrey replied without much enthusiasm. “She’s been in Japan a few weeks now. It’s taking her some time to adjust. I miss her a lot.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Her number was called and she went up to the counter, returning a moment later with her sandwich and pickle.

I didn’t really know where to go with the conversation, so I said nothing as she started to eat. Audrey paused halfway through and said, “I start practice next week. They’re going to let me play on the baseball team. I didn’t really expect that.”

“Wonderful,” I said, shuffling around the remaining half of my sandwich but not eating more, “I bet they are thrilled to get you.”

“Yeah,” Audrey exhaled, “but I won’t be playing shortstop, it seems. Maybe second or third. We’ll see...”

More silence. And then more.

Audrey finished her meal, looking down at the table sadly, then she looked into my eyes. I could see she was nearly in tears. Her voice cracked and was almost a whimper, her words drawn out carefully, “This is so hard, Darren...”

“I know,” I answered, my voice doing little better.

Her words came out in a rush. “I want you. I want you so bad it hurts. I take back what I said before. I don’t care if my heart is broken. I love you...”