“Don’t talk about my wife.”

“Why not? Isn’t she talking about me?” Dad mocked.

Mr. Watson flipped Dad off as he headed back to his truck and drove away. Dad’s laughter faded away when he turned to me. “Why the hell are you running around town with a pregnant girl?”

“She’s my friend.”

His brows lowered. “You’re real weird, kid. Just lay off of that girl, all right? Camila’s already got enough going on in her life and the last thing she needs is that dick of a husband coming down on her because my dick of a son likes to fall for the knocked up kids. Leave her alone, all right?”

“But—”

“I said leave it!” he ordered.

“Okay.”

He grumbled and walked past me. “And stop watching the damn comedies sitting in the foyer. There are places to sit in the living room.”

I didn’t know how to react. For the first time ever, Dad was inviting me to watch the black and white comedies with him in a roundabout way, but he’d also told me to stop talking to Aria. I was a winning loser.

As we sat in the living room, Dad told me he’d traded his old beat-up car for another one that happened to not be stick shift. He handed me an extra pair of keys and told me I could use it if I wanted to sometimes. I wondered if that was his way of apologizing for giving up on chemotherapy. If so, I just wished he would take the keys back.

24 Aria

Sometimes I caught my parents staring at me waiting for me to confess that the night I slept with James was an accident, that I’d had no say in the matter. But I had. I allowed him to touch me and keep touching me. As he kissed me I said yes, over and over again, feeling as if he was the only thing I needed and wanted.

And then he stopped kissing me. The memory of that night replayed in my mind every morning I woke up, stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and touched my stomach.

Sometimes I stared at myself waiting to confess that the night I slept with James was an accident, that I’d had no say in the matter. But I had. I wanted him.

And for a stupid few minutes, I could’ve sworn he wanted me, too.

* * *

Dr. Ward’s candy choice today was Starbursts, which was much better than his black licorice days.

“What’s on your mind, Aria?”

“Salvador Dalí. Salvador was known for his melting clocks painting, The Persistence of Memory. Did you know he had a brother nine months older than him who died? His brother’s name was Salvador. His parents named Salvador after his dead brother Salvador. Isn’t that crazy? They believed that he was the reincarnation of his brother. He said, ‘We resembled each other like two drops of water, but we had different reflections. He was probably a first version of myself, but conceived too much in the absolute.’ Imagine that pressure. Never living up to what your parents dreamed you could be.”

“Do you feel pressure from your parents, Aria? Like you let them down?”

I blinked, thinking back to the argument my parents had had a few hours ago. “Is there a deal breaker?” I asked.

“For what?”

“For how much your parents love you. Are there different kinds of mistakes that can just make them stop loving you? Like, say a kid started using drugs, or fighting. Or failed a class. Or—”

“Got pregnant.”

“Yeah. Is that a deal breaker for love?”

“Your parents still care a lot about you,” Dr. Ward said.

“But it’s not the same. Before, Dad used to pop into my room each night and tell me something about sports that I didn’t care about. Then I would tell him something about art that he didn’t care about, and then he would kiss my forehead and leave.”

“And now?”

“Now all of those memories are just melting away.”

“You want to talk more about that?” he asked.

“No.”

He didn’t push me for more details. I was starting to like that about him.

* * *

When we got home, I looked down at my phone to see if Levi had texted me back.

Levi: Sorry for any trouble I caused.

Aria: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.

He didn’t text back until dinnertime.

Levi: It might be best if we don’t talk outside of art and music class. I don’t want to add stress to your family.

Aria: What? That’s stupid.

Levi: Sorry, Art.

Aria: You can’t break off a friendship with an emotional girl who’s pregnant over a text message after telling her that you like her. That’s just mean. And stupid.

He didn’t reply until after KitKat’s bath.

Levi: I know. Sorry.

That’s it? You’re sorry?

Aria: Do you want the definition of asshole?

He didn’t reply.

25 Levi

The next morning at the bus stop, Aria didn’t look at me, but she did define a word for me.

“Asshole: a stupid, mean, or contemptible person. Just in case you didn’t know.”

I definitely knew.

Right before lunch, Simon informed me that I should probably sit at a different lunch table, but he told me we could still talk in gym class. I sighed, taking my lunch and finding an abandoned table in the back corner of the cafeteria.

I sat and ate my nasty food.

“Are you okay?” Abigail asked, walking up to me. “I stopped by Aria and Simon’s table, and Aria said you weren’t sitting with them anymore.”

“Yeah.”

She sat down beside me. “I have a few extra minutes today if you want me to sit with you. And I will probably have some extra time tomorrow, too.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Abigail.”

“Welcome.” She paused, staring down at her hands. “Why haven’t you told Simon or Aria about my cancer?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you saw me at chemotherapy the day before you invited me to sit and eat with you guys.”

“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t think it was my right to share something like that.”

“But that’s why you invited me to eat with you three, right? Because you felt bad for me?”

“No. I invited you because when you smile, you make everyone else happy.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “The day you asked me to sit with you guys I was on my way to the bathroom to cry because it was one of my not-so-happy days. So thanks for that.”