Someone I would rather not think of.
For the first time, I’m grateful that the woman won’t stop talking. She pulls her purse out from under the seat in front of her and keeps going.
“So, you must be excited to be back. Four years is a long time.”
I’m not so excited anymore. She’s right. Four years is a long time. Even if the airport hasn’t changed, I know other things must have. Other people.
Aiden.
It’s easy to pretend I’m coming just to see my father, but the thought of Aiden has hung over me like a ghost ever since I packed my bags.
Thoughts of him invaded my mind as I booked my ticket.
As I boarded the plane.
As I sit here now, staring out the window.
There are no words to really describe what it feels like to have your heart broken—and not just broken simply because of time or age or the fact that you don’t feel the same anymore.
I was in high school when it happened. We were young and I know that—knew it at the time too—but what he did tore my heart to shreds. It was thrown in a blender and decimated.
Aiden was the first person I ever loved, and I loved him with every last cell in my body. He took my love and crushed it to a pulp.
Graduation couldn’t come fast enough. I wanted to get away as quickly as possible, leaving behind the last painful gasps of high school that ground me up after Aiden hurt me.
I can’t even love Boston fully anymore. For all the beautiful memories of picnics with my friends in the park, there is a memory of kissing Aiden under the awning of the theater by our school.
There are memories of my first love scattered across the city, just like the crushed glass of my heart.
I can say it’s okay and move on, but some part of me always lingers a little too long when I think about Aiden. I want to be done with him. The memory of him just never seems to be done with me.
We reach the gate, and after a few more minutes of small talk with the woman in my row, the doors finally open and we all disembark.
Navigating the airport is second nature. I make it out in good time, stand by the right curb, and call an Uber. I just want to get to my father’s house, settle in, and reset. I want to start applying for jobs and distract myself with paperwork. The rest of my life.
It’s four years too late to be throwing a pity party. I’ve moved past what Aiden did. He was awful, but I’ve known better men. Better people. Just because he ruined my last teenage years doesn’t mean he ruined everything for me.
I had fun in college. I lived. The memory of Aiden can’t change that.
I lift my chin and flag down the car as it arrives, wheeling my suitcases neatly around to the trunk.
I plan to tune out the ride with music. My favorite thing about taking a car is how many people will leave you alone. You don’t talk, they won’t talk. I don’t have to deal with as many painful conversations and mundane life stories.
The traffic isn’t bad. It’s early enough in the afternoon that people aren’t out of work, late enough that we don’t hit the lunch rush. I’m relieved to know that I’ll be home soon.
We pass by my old private school, and all those memories I didn’t want to think about come rushing to the surface. Battle Hill Prep still has the same brick-and-iron gate, like a magical entryway open only to important people.
And mafia families.
In my memory, Aiden leans by the left pillar clear as day, a perpetual brooding expression darkening his features. He’s a senior in my mind’s eye, just how I remember him. We’ve already passed the school, but it’s burned into my mind.
He was handsome even as a teenager. I knew I loved him fast, and I fell hard. I wanted to run my hands through his dark brown hair so badly, feel the softness, smell the spice and pine in his shampoo.
I won’t deny that half of my attraction was purely sexual, a consequence of being a teenager and being desperately stupid in love.
But it was also his blue eyes that drew me in. They were endless, and they didn’t give many people the time of day. I wanted to be someone he looked at.
I didn’t know at first that he could look at anyone the way he looked at me. He was so hard, so rough around the edges, that I wasn’t sure he could want me as anything more than a fuck. But Aiden softened just a little when I was with him. When I held his hand.
