Bet on It (78)

He wanted to tell his friends not to hold their breath, but he held his tongue. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll drag my ass back to Greenbelt and talk to them. But if this shit turns out bad, I’m puttin’ all the blame on y’all.” He rubbed a hand over his belly. “Now, can I get some of that spinach dip I came for or do I have to sit through another lecture first?”





Chapter 26


More than a month after Walker left, Aja was no closer to getting over him than she had been that night in her apartment. Life went on, and she was forced to go right along with it, but the process of actually moving on was going to be long and wrenching. Especially when her mind refused to stray too far from thoughts of him.

The first week was spent crying in her apartment. She was sure she looked like something straight out of a romantic comedy. The very picture of a heartbroken woman, her hair and face a mess, her clothes dingy, and a tub of chocolate ice cream in her hand. She did as Dr. Sharp had advised and gave herself full permission to wallow and rage, listening to the saddest music in her playlists and watching movies that got her choked up. She let herself cry and scream and despair until her body hurt from the exertion of her pain.

It hadn’t lasted forever though. When the week was over, she’d cleaned herself up, opened the windows in her apartment, and made herself leave the house. Even going to the grocery store was a trial, but she’d made it there and back without breaking down completely, so she counted that as a win.

She tried to get her old normal back, rework her schedule to the way it had been before he came into her life. The way it had been before her newfound happiness. Wake up, have breakfast, work, lunch, more work, dinner, then bed. It was boring, sure, but it was also familiar. The work kept her mind from wandering too much, and the process of making her meals kept her busy. Any time she wasn’t doing one of those things, she did nothing other than think of him.

She could see him in her mind like he’d never left. If she tried hard enough, she could feel his hands on her. It was like Walker had become a ghost, haunting every corner of her life. Only her grieving process was different because she hadn’t lost him to death, but circumstance.

She started to become avoidant again, a trait she’d been actively working on in the months before, but now felt imperative to her emotional survival. Something was clearly wrong, and everyone she knew could sense it. Any time her mother, or Reniece, or Miri and the girls tried to broach the subject of her obvious change in mood, she balked and changed the topic immediately.

The night she’d won bingo had been the last time she’d gone. Every Wednesday, her bones ached with the need for the routine of going, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t think she’d be able to sit in the same seat, to play the game the way she always had, without being reminded of him. To her, it didn’t seem fair that someone could be in your life for such a short amount of time but still upend it completely.

There was also the issue of Ms. May. She didn’t know if her friend knew the details of what she and Walker had, but if she did, the thought of facing her was terrifying. Would it even be possible for them to have a conversation without the specter of him hanging over them? Would Aja be able to look into her eyes and not see Walker in them? Ms. May was her own person, independent of her family, and it was wrong to associate her with Walker so heavily that Aja couldn’t even be around her, but she didn’t know what to do about it. So she stayed away and hoped like hell that the woman would understand when … if … Aja had the courage to return to the bingo hall.

She recognized that she couldn’t be fully alone forever. And as much as she missed Walker, the relationship she’d had with him wasn’t the only one she’d built over the summer. She didn’t pull away from her new friends completely. But she did hang out a little less, not wanting to bring the vibe down with her crappy mood. When she did get together with them, she found it hard to stay enthusiastic. She hung to the background, speaking less, slower to laugh.

She was still too sore not to stiffen anytime someone dared to try to talk to her about her feelings. She figured she’d wallow on her own, the way she always did. But it took her a while to understand that the reason she’d spent so much time stuck alone in her sadness was because she hadn’t had many people outside of her family to wade through it with her.

Her actions surprised even her when she reached out to Miri during the last week in August, finally ready to take her up on her offer to vent her feelings.

They decided to get together, just the two of them, at Aja’s apartment. Aja feared getting so sensitive and mushy that she’d cry over a plate of food at a public place. She prepared them a nice dinner at home instead, an Italian pasta dish with enough meat and carbs to make up for opening up to someone she didn’t pay to listen to her.

“So, this is about Walker Abbott, I’m assumin’.” Miri didn’t waste any time getting to the point as she positioned herself on Aja’s couch with her plate in her lap.

Aja’s eyes widened. She’d been expecting some small talk before getting to the heart of things. But Miri clearly wasn’t interested in that.

“Uh … yeah.” Aja nibbled on a piece of garlic bread. “But I don’t want you to think that I only invited you over to talk about some man.”

In a way, she had, and she didn’t know if that was OK. She cared about Miri, enjoyed spending time with her, and at this point, considered her an actual friend. That meant she was allowed to hog the conversation sometimes, didn’t it? So long as she allowed others to reciprocate, that is.