Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between(11)
Clare reaches over and rests a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure yours would take you if you just asked,” she says, though she’s actually not sure if that’s true. His parents had been crushed that he hadn’t gotten into Harvard, especially his father. He’d been the first one in his family to go to college, and for a poor kid from south Boston, getting a full scholarship to Harvard had been like going to the moon. He spoke of it constantly with the kind of reverence usually reserved for church. To him, it was a magical place, one that had opened every door of opportunity for him, and it was his greatest wish that his son follow in his footsteps.
Aidan, on the other hand, was nothing but relieved by the rejection. He’d never had any interest in Harvard, with its cloistered buildings and hallowed halls and snow-covered paths; there was too much history there, too many expectations. He’d always wanted a place with sunshine and parties and cheering stadiums, a school that was thrumming with life and activity, somewhere big enough for him to make his own memories.
After a recruiting trip last fall, where he met with the Harvard lacrosse coach and took a tour of the campus, Aidan had returned even more set against it.
“You should’ve seen my dad,” he’d told Clare when he got back. “He had this goofy smile on his face the whole time. And when we went to watch a practice? It was insane. He’s never asked me a single thing about lacrosse, not ever, and then all of a sudden, the way he was talking to the coach, you’d think he was a lifelong fan.”
“Yeah, but what did you think?” Clare had asked.
Aidan shrugged. “It’s not for me.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” he said simply. “How do you know you want a small liberal arts school?”
Clare shook her head. “I just do.”
“Exactly.”
She knew he was right. There was a certain amount of gut involved in this decision to launch yourself into some random part of the world, blindly charging headlong into an entirely new life. She’d always known she was bound for the East Coast in the same way Aidan had always been headed west: instinctively and without logic.
But his father had never wanted to hear it, and when Aidan hadn’t gotten into Harvard, he couldn’t hide his disappointment. He’d always figured his son would come around to the idea of it. But really, he should have been worrying that Harvard would come around to the idea of Aidan.
There was no real reason why he shouldn’t have been accepted: His grades weren’t spectacular, but they were surprisingly good, given his lack of effort, and he was a legacy, not to mention a highly sought-after lacrosse player.
Still, he hadn’t gotten in.
Which was more than okay with Aidan.
But he knows all too well that if he were headed to Cambridge tomorrow, there’s no doubt his parents would be driving him there, giddy and excited. Instead, he’s going to the school of his dreams. But he’s doing it all alone.
When he shrugs, Clare’s hand slips off his shoulder. “You know it was always Harvard or bust with them,” he tells her.
“Well, maybe it’ll be better to say goodbye at the airport anyway,” she says, her voice a little too bright. “You’d probably look a lot less tough if you showed up to the first day of practice with your parents.”
“Come on,” he says, relaxing his stiff-armed grip on the wheel and flashing her a little grin. “I’d look tough holding a teddy bear.”
She can’t help laughing at this. He looks so earnest right now, his freckles lost in the dark, his eyes big. With his red hair and round face, his lanky, too-tall frame, he always seems to Clare a bit like a teddy bear himself. So it’s sometimes disconcerting when she watches him on the field, dodging and checking, twisting and attacking, sprinting to beat defenders to the goal. It’s beautiful, in a way, seeing him like that, powerful and agile and surprisingly quick. But she’s always a little relieved when he removes his helmet at the end of the game, and he’s just Aidan again, pink-cheeked and sweaty and happy to see her.
“You’d look tough even if you had two teddy bears,” she assures him, giving his arm a little pat.
As they near the lake, the houses start to get bigger, sprawling mansions set back on enormous lawns. It’s such a far cry from their end of town—where the lots are the size of postage stamps, and the houses sit shoulder to shoulder—that it almost feels like they’ve traveled from somewhere a lot farther away.
With her window rolled down, Clare can already hear the rush of waves from the beach below. Aidan turns onto the drive that leads down to the lake, a winding road that cuts a path along a ravine, and when they reach the bottom, there’s nothing but the water and the sand and a narrow strip of parking lot dotted with a few scattered cars.
They park and walk out along a stone path, moving away from the pavilion with the picnic tables and grills, and the playground, which stands quiet now in the dusk, and out toward where the length of sand is wider and a little bit rougher. The sky is streaked with orange, bright against the violet backdrop, and the water is golden in the last of the light. Clare’s breath hitches in her throat at the sight of it.
“I’m going to miss this,” she says as she slips off her sandals. Beside her, Aidan is kicking off his sneakers, so that they go arcing out onto the beach. They step off the path, their bare feet sinking into the sand, to collect them again.