Early on, I hadn’t minded it so much. The fact that my aunt and I rarely spoke about Bryce made the relationship feel a little secretive, vaguely illicit and therefore more exciting. And while not encouraging, Aunt Linda at least seemed accepting of the idea that her niece was in love with a young man who met her approval. At night, when it was time for me to walk Bryce to the door, more often than not, she would rise from her spot on the sofa and head to the kitchen, giving us a bit of privacy, enough for a quick kiss goodbye. I think she intuitively knew that Bryce and I wouldn’t go overboard. We hadn’t even gone on an official second date; really, since we saw each other pretty much all day every day, there wasn’t a reason to. Nor had we ever considered sneaking out at night to see each other or going somewhere without telling my aunt in advance. With my body beginning to shape-shift, sex was absolutely the last thing on my mind.
And yet, after a while, the distance began to bother me. Aunt Linda was the first person I’d known who was completely on my side. She accepted me for who I was, faults and all, and I wanted to think I could talk to her about anything. It all sort of came to a head as we were sitting in the living room near the end of March. We’d had dinner, Bryce had gone home, and it was coming up on the time she usually went to bed. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and my aunt glanced up from her book.
“I’m glad you let me live here,” I said. “I don’t know if I’ve told you enough how thankful I am.”
She frowned. “What brought that on?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been so busy lately that we haven’t had the chance to be alone so I could tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
Her expression softened and she set the book aside. “You’re welcome. You’re family, of course, and that’s the reason I was initially willing to help. But once you got here, I began to realize how much I enjoyed having you around. I never had children of my own, and in some ways, I feel like you’ve become like the daughter I never had. I know it’s not my place to say such things, but I’ve learned that it’s okay at my age to pretend every once in a while.”
I moved my hand over the bulge of my stomach, thinking of everything I’d put her through. “I was a pretty terrible guest in the beginning.”
“You were fine.”
“I was moody and messy and zero fun to be around.”
“You were scared,” she said. “I knew that. Frankly, I was frightened, too.”
That, I hadn’t expected. “Why?”
“I worried that I wouldn’t be what you needed. And if that happened, I worried that you might have to go back to Seattle. Like your parents, I just wanted what was best for you.”
I fiddled with a few strands of my hair. “I still don’t know what I’m going to say to my friends when I get back. For all I know, some people already suspect the truth and they’re talking about me, or they’ll spread rumors that I was in rehab or something.”
Her expression remained calm. “A lot of the girls I worked with at the convent were afraid of the same thing. And the reality is, those things might happen, and it’s terrible when they do. And yet, you might be surprised. People tend to focus on their own lives, not someone else’s. As soon as you’re back, doing normal things with your friends, they’ll forget the fact that you were gone for a while.”
“Do you think so?”
“Every year, when school finishes, kids scatter to all sorts of different places all summer long, and while they might see some friends, they don’t see others. But as soon as they’re all back together, it’s like they were never apart.”
Though it was true, I also knew some who loved nothing better than juicy gossip, people who made themselves feel better by putting others down. I turned toward the window, noting the darkness beyond the glass, and wondered again why she hadn’t seemed to want to talk about my feelings for Bryce and their implications. In the end, I just came out with it.
“I’m in love with Bryce,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I know. I see the way you look at him.”
“He’s in love with me, too.”
“I know. I see the way he looks at you.”
“Do you think I’m too young to be in love?”
“That’s not for me to say. Do you think you’re too young?”
I suppose I should have expected her to turn the question around on me. “Part of me knows I love him, but there’s this other voice in my head whispering that I can’t possibly know, since I’ve never been in love before.”