“Oh. Okay. Well, can I sit with you for a bit?”
“That kinda defeats the purpose of peace and quiet.”
“I won’t talk.”
“You just said you wanted to talk to me about something.” We stepped off the porch step into the hot August sun. “So what’s it going to be? Talk or quiet?”
“Is something wrong, Ara?” He stopped walking. “You've been pretty cold to me today.”
With a short huff, I sat on the edge of the fountain, setting my book down beside me. “It’s nothing. I'm just a little moody.” Itchy was the right word. I scratched my hip. “Anyway, what did you wanna talk to me about?”
“Emily.” He sat beside me.
“Emily?”
“Yeah. She was crying last night.”
“Why?”
“She feels really bad about the phone call. She thinks you’re mad at her.”
“I'm not mad.”
“You're moody,” he offered.
“Yes. But not at Emily.”
“Well, she has this way of beating herself up for things that aren’t her fault. No matter what it is, she will trace a situation backward until she finds some way she can be to blame. You need to talk to her.”
“Okay. I’ll go now.”
“Wait.” Jason grabbed my wrist as I stood. “There's something else.”
“What?”
“I—I feel like I haven't seen you since you woke up from the mini coma the other day.”
“Jason?” I huffed. “That was four days ago.”
“I know, but four days is enough for me to feel like I haven't seen you in four years. Can we hang out this afternoon—maybe watch a movie or take a walk together?”
“No,” I said quickly.
“Why?” Jason stood up as I walked away.
“Because it’s inappropriate.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm married.”
“You were married before,” he called.
I stopped and turned back to face him. “I know, but the people didn't know that.”
“So you're breaking up with me?”
“We were never together.”
He stood quietly for a second, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to react to this?”
“I don't care.” I turned away.
“Yes, you do. Don't do that.” He grabbed my wrist again. “Don't pretend you don't care.”
“Let go of me, Jason.”
“Please, Ara. I know this is hard. I know you’ve never had to deal with having David and I in the same world, but if you just cast me aside now he’s back, I…” He swallowed, his brow furrowing. “It hurts.”
“What did you expect, Jase?”
He dropped my wrist, closing his eyes. “I didn't think that far ahead. I guess…I just liked it better when David was faking dead.”
“Well, he still would be if I hadn’t gone diving off a lighthouse.”
“I know,” he said, exhaling. “I just wish I could rewind time.”
I sat down on the porch step, sweeping my skirt under my legs to hide my undies. “And what would you do differently, if time travel were possible?”
“I’d make sure I was standing in the street by that phone booth the night you called your mum.” He stepped closer and squatted down in front of me, the height of the manor shading us from the sun. “I’d take the phone from your hand and hold you close—tell you everything would be okay. Then I’d drive you home and see you every day until I asked you to marry me—and you’d say yes, because you love me.”
I let that play out in my mind—how different my life would be if I had never made that phone call. But my eyes snapped open again to the hot summer of reality. “You can't say that, Jase.”
“Say what?”
“Say that you think I love you. I can't let that be true. I'm sorry.”
He opened his mouth to speak, closing it at the sound of gravel crunching under tyres.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“Post.” He stood up.
“That's not a postal van.”
“It’s unmarked. That’ll be official mail.”
“Oh.” I walked beside Jason to the van.
“Hey there.” The delivery guy jumped out and smiled. “Got some mail here from the First Order.”
“I’ll sign for that.” Jason reached for the clipboard, scribbled his name and took the sack from the man.
“Do they let just anyone sign for the mail?” I asked.
He shrugged and handed the clipboard back.
“Have a good one.” The driver tipped his baseball cap and jumped in the van.
“Was he…?”
“Human?” Jason grinned and set the sack down on the ground. “Yup.”
“Wow. Don't see those much anymore.”
“I see them at least every three days.” He threw the sack over his shoulder. “But they’re usually under my teeth, screaming for help.”
“Ew!” I whipped the back of my hand across his chest. “That is really poor humour, Jase.”
“Come on.” He laughed and stopped by the fountain to grab my book. “Let’s go sort this mail out. I’ll bet the letters your dad’s been sending are in here.”
I looked at the sack; that was a lot of mail to sort. “It’d be easier if we could just have them sent directly to Loslilian.”
“I know. But a part of keeping up a lie is putting up with inconveniences.”
“It sucks.”
“Not as much as being dumped because your girlfriend’s husband came back to life.”
Each letter from dad said the same things; Sam’s doing well, Vicki bought something new to fill the empty space that used to be my bedroom, constantly changing it to be a room for some other hobby she couldn't stick to, and also told me about ‘Conference Season’—his annual fly-home-and-leave again period, where he’d give History lectures all around the country. He’d stopped asking so much when I was coming home, or if I was coming home.
I dumped the pile of letters in my nightstand drawer and looked over at the dog sleeping on the settee across my room. He looked peaceful. I wasn't sure I’d ever actually seen Petey sleep before.
As my gaze moved from the sleeping fluff-ball to the edge of my bed, something caught my eye; a thick, leather-bound book stared back up at me; it was small, like a diary, the aged leather brown and soft, with words in the ancient language embossed on the front.