All We Can Do Is Wait(41)
A sick feeling coursed through Scott, dread and envy swirling together. He was happy for Skyler, for Kate, of course. He wasn’t a monster. But if Kate was O.K., then hadn’t the odds shifted? Wasn’t Aimee now firmly back in the bad column? Had he just somehow condemned Aimee to die, by thinking such terrible things about Kate? Alexa must have been feeling something similar, because she staggered back and grabbed for Scott’s arm again.
They stood, smiling weakly as Skyler wept. Morgan kept her distance, watching quietly, a resigned look flickering across her face before she said, “That’s great. That’s so great, Skyler.”
Skyler nodded. “I know. I know. I have to try to call my grandparents. It’s . . . I don’t know what time it is there, but I have to—I have to do that.” She went to her chair and started gathering her things, bag and coat and phone, pulling her hair into a messy bun as she shouldered her bag and took a deep breath. She looked at all of them and then seemed to realize. That her good news, her good fortune, wasn’t theirs too.
She let a little “Oh” escape before steeling herself and putting a hand on Alexa’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving, O.K.? I’m not leaving until you guys all know. I’m just gonna . . . I’m just gonna go call my grandparents and my family and . . . just not be in here for a second. But I’ll be back, I’m not leaving.” She smiled at them and then said, “O.K.,” before striding out of the room, already dialing her phone.
And then there were four, Scott dipping his head and letting out a long breath, Alexa retreating to her chair, Jason standing, looking stunned and confused, as the sounds of the room returned. Morgan seemed to sense all of their worry. “If she’s O.K., that could mean everyone else is too. I mean, people are surviving this, right? People are alive.”
Scott wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. He felt as helpless as ever, maybe even more helpless than before, somehow. He realized that, until then, he’d been quietly convinced that everything really was going to be fine, that things couldn’t actually be as bad as they seemed. But somehow Skyler’s news—her great, happy, miraculous news—made him doubt all that, made him convinced that everything was only going to get worse for him now.
He heard Alexa crying again, a despairing sound. Jason stayed rooted in place as Morgan walked quietly over to Alexa and sat down next to her, not touching her, not saying anything, just sitting. Of course, Morgan had had good news too, hadn’t she? She didn’t seem to know a lot, but at least she knew her dad was alive. Scott felt a flash of anger toward her, and then guilt again, and then panic. Things were back to that strange, dreamlike pace, Alexa’s crying the only sound Scott heard. And then, he realized, he was crying too, a sudden rush of tears, a choking in his throat. He turned from the others and closed his eyes and tried to make it stop.
He thought about Aimee, in her sunny third-floor bedroom, practicing some monologue from some play, crying on her bed with a funny smile on her face, turning it on and off with ease.
“How the hell do you do that?” Scott asked, amazed.
Aimee smiled, casting him a serene gaze. “My natural ability!”
Scott laughed. “No, seriously. How? Do you just, like, think of sad things?”
“Sorta. I think about Google ads.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah. You know the Google ad with the guy who moves to Paris?”
Scott had no idea what she was talking about. “I do not.”
“Oh my God!” Aimee yelped, jumping up from her bed to grab her computer from her desk. Scott grabbed at her, wanting to pull her in for a kiss, but she swatted him away. “Not now, this is serious.”
She got her laptop and brought it over, sitting next to Scott on the bed, Scott taking in the smell of her, soap and fruit and a little of the incense she liked to burn in her room when she was trying to set a sexy mood. (She didn’t really need to try, Scott always thought.) “O.K. So there are a few really good Google ads, like the ‘It Gets Better’ one. But the Paris one is the absolute best. Oscar-winning. It should win Oscars.”
Scott was skeptical as Aimee searched YouTube for the video. He wasn’t a terribly sentimental or emotional guy—very few of the guys he knew were—and he doubted a commercial for a search engine would do much to move him. Aimee found the ad and let out a little “Aha!” and pressed “Play.”
Visually, the ad was very simple. Just a search text bar. But it nonetheless told a story, about a kid studying abroad in Paris, searching for ways to woo a French girl, then going on a date, then getting a job in Paris and moving there, then getting married, and then, at the end, searching for how to build a crib. A whole romance, a whole life, told in a little ad set to wistful music. It was really something, and Scott’s eyes were welling up with tears by the time the guy was searching for a job in Paris.
Aimee, tears streaming down her cheeks, looked at him and burst out laughing. “See? See? It’s unreal! Every time I watch it!” She looked at him again, ran her thumbs under his eyes to wipe away the tears that were, yes, now falling. “I knew you would get it,” she said, cupping his face and kissing him. “I knew you would. That’s why I love you.”
It was the first time she’d ever said that, and Scott instinctively, but meaning it, said it back. “I love you too. I love you, Aimee.” And then they were kissing again, the day tumbling along as they fell into each other.