He found her in a bar. She wasn’t drinking--didn’t like the way alcohol made her feel, her head too fuzzy to enjoy any of the buzz--but just sitting, her tan fingers running along the edge of an empty glass that had once contained iced tea. She didn’t really know how he found her unless maybe he had followed her from work, but she’d been here a while, so if he’d done that, he must have waited outside a while, debating whether or not he should go after her. Across the bar, she almost couldn’t tell it was him, but he called to her. “Ayita?”
“Fletch,” she returned as he made his way over and sat beside her, forcing herself to sound happy to see him. Usually, she was. Fletch was a kind man, and he always made her laugh. But all she wanted right now was to disappear into the poorly lit bar and people-watch until she forgot who she was and what had happened.
“What are you doing here?” He asked gently, his hand sweeping over hers and claiming it. She did not pull away. His other hand landed softly on her chin, lightly turning her head until her grey eyes were lost in his oceans of brown. She did not protest this either. “Shouldn’t you be home right now?”
“Why?” She returned in a tone that might have been snappish if not so heavily weighted by sorrow. “All I do when I’m there is drift. I end up in his room. It pulls me to it. The last place he was. I can’t… I can’t be there more than I have to.”
Ayita expected complaints, a calm but firm voice telling her how she ought to be there more to support the rest of her family. But Fletch said none of that. Instead, he squeezed her hand. “Okay,” he said with a crooked smile. “But this place is a dump. Want to come over to my place?”
And for a moment, she smiled back, the first one she’d managed since it happened. “Yeah, sure.”
*Spring*
She dropped her bags on the same end table she always did when she came over. “Hey, Fletch?” She called. “I’m here.” Her summons echoed off his unpainted walls, eventually reaching him upstairs. His apartment was two levels, a small kitchen, dining room, living room, and half-bath occupying the first, and two bedrooms and a bathroom occupying the second. It was not large by any means, but it was more than enough for a bachelor.
“Cool,” he shouted back. “I’ll be down in a second. Just getting out of the shower.” Fletch didn’t have to include anything to the likes of make yourself at home, because she already had; she’d been here enough times to feel comfortable in his living room, with or without him. The last few months had been what she could only refer to as insane. Her mind had begun to process things again, and her heart, while still mourning, was starting to feel again. And she spent more time at home, especially after the big talk the whole family had, and even more so after Chloe and Emery had returned to Sonora. Still, it felt odd having only four people in the house. She spent a good deal of time playing with Harper, but she was certain to schedule time for Fletch too. She owed him at least that much.
He’d been so good to her. He held her when she cried, which still happened every so often, and sometimes completely out of the blue. Fletch had been there for her through what was definitively the worst time of her life, and Ayita felt she could never repay him. “You hungry?” She yelled, beginning to sort through the plastic takeout bag beside her purse. “I brought Chinese.”
Footsteps rushed upstairs, and a moment later, he stood facing her on the landing wearing only a pair of shorts, dried except for his still soaked blond hair, which dripped onto his lightly-muscled bare chest. “That’s my girl.”
*Summer*
Maybe laying naked in his bed wasn’t the time or place, but the words fell so quickly from her lips that she didn’t have a chance to stop them. It was not the first time she had been here, but for whatever reason, this time, they rushed her. And they were panicked, a string of retraction to immediately stave off his thoughts of what could come next for them. Fletch was wonderful, really, but this was all…. It wasn’t… It was complicated. So she said it.
“You know I’m not in love with you, don’t you?”
“What?” He said quickly. He’d heard her perfectly clearly, but that was the word his brain spat from his mouth while it tried to process and select a real response. “I mean….” He tried again. Then he closed his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
“Okay,” Ayita replied awkwardly, folding her arms on top of the sheet and across her chest. “I-... Okay. Yeah. Good.”
There was a tense and silent pause before he spoke again. It was only a moment, but it felt like a century to Ayita. But eventually, he did speak. “I know,” he repeated. “And I’m… yeah. I’m okay with it. Mostly. I’m-... I’m dealing with it, y’know?” She could feel him looking at her, and while she was afraid to look back at him, she was even more afraid not to. When she turned her head, she saw for certain that Fletch was in fact looking at her, but his eyes did not burrow or burn into her. They were soft, compassionate.
“Okay,” she said again. His hand slipped comfortingly into hers, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. They laid that way awhile until a kiss on the head turned to a kiss on the mouth, and soon, Ayita had once more fallen into a whole different twirled, tangled up with her handsome young friend, in a world where nothing and no one was real, and all was calm.
*Autumn*
She hadn’t been planning on telling him. At least, not yet. She hadn’t told anyone yet. Ayita was still weighing her options on her own, thinking over every possible outcome, not so much to make any decisions but rather to make it all feel real. She had to make it real to herself before she could begin to expect anyone else to understand. But early at work, a wave of sickness had crashed into her.
He had followed her to the bathroom, it seemed, because when she opened the stall door, there he was, his eyebrows knit together nervously. “Are you, uh, okay?” He asked. “I heard you, y’know, and you sound, um… Do you want to go home early?”
“You know, this is supposed to be women only,” Ayita attempted to deflect, her voice as playful as could be considering she’d been throwing up about sixty seconds prior, half of a smile all she could muster. Part of her was still hoping to worm her way out of the conversation that probably needed to happen. She didn’t want to do it. Not yet.
But Fletch wasn’t amused. If anything, her humor seemed only to further his concern, accelerating it into suspicion. “Ayita,” he said, his voice firm but worried. “What’s going on?”
The Pecari alumna sighed. “Fletch… Joshua. I have to tell you, um, that… I’m…. We’re….” Her shaking hands went slowly down, settling on her stomach, but only for a moment before he rushed forward, gripping her wrists a bit more firmly than he had ever before, his sense of strength lost in his shock. His eyes begged for an explanation, a visible mix of fear and surprise and perhaps even eagerness, and in their gaze, Ayita broke down in tears. In one deft motion, he released her arms and pulled her close.
“I-I didn’t want to say anything,” she sobbed into him. “My parents don’t even know.” Ayita cried it out for a moment before giving him anything else, but when she finally did, she went on fairly calmly; after the year she had, she was tired of crying. “I’ve been thinking about what to do. I mean, there’s three options, really. Either I have it and keep it, I give it up, or I… don’t have it.”
“It’s your decision,” he assured her, stroking her hair. “But if I get a vote, I want to keep it. I think we could do a great job co-parenting. And maybe… Maybe this is what it’s meant to be. There’s a reason for everything, you know. There has to be.”
Ayita hugged tighter briefly, grateful for the support and soothed, if only for a moment, by his optimistic sentiment. Then she released him. “We should probably get back to work,” she said. “Or at least go talk somewhere else.” Fletch glanced around, as if he’d forgotten they were still standing in the middle of the women’s bathroom, and she laughed at him.
“Yeahhh, good call,” he said beneath her laughter. Then he joined her, echoing with his own hearty chuckle. “Let’s get out of here. If you’re done throwing up, of course.” Fletch added teasingly.
“I’m good,” she replied playfully. They started towards the door together, but when he opened it for her, she paused. “Actually, you go on ahead. I’ve changed my mind.”
“Gross,” he joked. “Okay, I’ll go back to work. You just throw up to your little heart’s content.” Ayita poked her tongue out at him, and the swinging door followed him out. She returned to the stall farthest back, and despite the ongoing queasiness, she felt lighter. If nothing else, it was certainly real now.