“That’s not really an option.”
“Talk to me.”
She was finally opening the line for communication.
“I can’t think about myself.” His voice was depressed and shaken. “I-I want to, but I can’t. My people depend on me.”
“That doesn’t mean you can handle the weight of the world.”
“You’re right, but I have to try.”
“You’re not even eighteen,” she pointed out. “What makes you think that you can do all of this without any consequences?”
He didn’t reply.
“Because you can’t. Realistically, you’re heading towards emotional suicide. Adrian, you have to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else.”
“I know that, but I feel like I could’ve been better. I should be better. I can’t—”
“Better? Compared to who?”
Adrian bit his lip. “My sister.”
This was probably a whole new set of problems that she never knew about.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay . . .” Awkward pause. “But even if you’re comparing yourself to someone else, you also have to realize that you have your own strengths and weaknesses. You can’t expect yourself to fulfill any role perfectly, not right away at least.”
He didn’t respond so she took the initiative.
“I’m not telling you to have learned helplessness or anything, but what I am saying is that you have to be realistic with yourself. No matter how much we might want to be something, it doesn’t mean we have all the abilities to do it. It’s like me telling you that I’m going to be a space princess and guard the Earth in a pretty sailor suit. It’s not completely impossible, but for now until I get the skills to do that, I can’t.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Aria took a deep breath. “Just because you’re given a role doesn’t mean that you have to be perfect in it. Maybe yours wasn’t a choice and that’s sh*tty, but you have time to grow into it. You don’t need to solve everything today or tomorrow or next week, and you’re not alone either. I can only assume who else might be like you, but I don’t think this is just a ‘you’ problem.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Yeah, maybe I am oversimplifying everything because it’s what I can understand. I won’t pretend to be like you and think that I know how all of this works out but . . .” What was she trying to say here? “I guess, I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone in all of this, even though I’m sure you have someone who is way better at giving advice, I’m always open to listen and maybe help?”
She also wanted to say that she wouldn’t just up and leave him because of circumstances, but that’s a little too much.
When he didn’t say anything after a few minutes, Aria reconsidered her word choices. She didn’t imply that she was going to cut him out of her life; in fact, she tried to insinuate the exact opposite. Besides, she knew that this was not the time for romantic proclamations just to make him feel a little more secure. Now was the time to tell him that no matter what, she still wanted to be his friend.
Maybe she would never be able to confess her feelings and get that high school dream she secretly pined for, but Adrian’s emotional health was more important. At the very least, she could be someone who wouldn’t hinder his life any more than she already had.
Aria wanted to be reliable; she wanted to be trustworthy, and she wanted to be someone he was comfortable with.
And she was fine if that never brought them anywhere else.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian spoke a little more clearly.
“Don’t apologize.”
“It’s hard not to.”
“It’s a lot all at once,” Aria replied.
“I think I’m getting a headache.”
“Same.” She looked back at the school building and realized that they only missed the first two periods. “Want to call it a day?”
“Is that legal?”
“Skipping school? Probably not.” She shrugged.
“That’s probably why it’s such a great idea. Do you want me to drop you off at your place?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think we both need some time to think about everything.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Aria needed to prepare herself again.
After all, she still needed to talk to her dad.
***
This was probably the worst confrontation she had to date.
Aria knew that this wouldn’t be easy because she loved her dad. She loved him so much that she was absolutely afraid for his reaction.
So as she waited for him to go home, Aria managed to conjure up at least six of the most probable outcomes that her dad might give her, not to mention a combination of those outcomes.
Aria already had dinner practically done by the time her dad walked through the front door. He was tired, drained emotionally and mentally, but was still aware enough to realize something was wrong.
She tried to postpone the conversation until after they ate, because hopefully by then, some of the tension would release, but that didn’t happen when he asked about her truancy once they sat down at the table.
“I hope it was a good reason,” was all her dad said while he waited for an explanation.
“Dad . . . can I ask you something?”
“You just did.”
“Okay, well, that wasn’t it.”
He took a bite and gestured for her to ask the question.
“What is your connection to Adrian’s dad?”
Of course, it didn’t go over well. Aria never considered that in the list of possibilities she had that any part of this conversation to go well. In fact, she was doing her best to expect the worst, but the look on his face caused her to regret it.
His voice was no longer tired, but very cautious, as if he was walking
