Page 23 of Later Bloom

“No, no, yeah, that’s cool.” He hears himself and grimaces. “That was lame. I just mean, good for you. If you think it’s good. But I mean, you’ve dated, right? Like, you’ve been in casual sorts of things.”

He doesn’t say it like a question. They’re walking along a residential street now, and through the house windows the lights are on and silhouettes can be seen inside.

Aubrey says, “I haven’t, no. Not really. I think—three dates is the most I’ve been on with the same person.” It feels shameful to say it and she hates this feeling. She doesn’t look at him now.

“Mm. Well, that’s fine.”

Aubrey wants to push and pick at him until he admits he finds it weird, because it’s how things always go, in the end, and it’s annoying that they’re pretending otherwise. But she wants to do better, this time, and she’s not here to go through the same motions, the same endings. Assuming the worst of people gets a little tiring. So she smiles and says, “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I promise I’m a really normal person.”

This time he laughs louder, the sound crisp and contagious in the quiet evening air.

Desperate to keep it at that, Aubrey asks him about his favourite spots around town, and they chat about school, the passage of time, finding comfort in the place where you grew up.

Soon after, they find the water again, in an unpaved lot where a few cars are parked and people have gathered along the shore. In the distance, the lights of the old town and the sleeping masts of fishing vessels and sailboats fill the horizon.

After a few more steps, they stop and take a seat on the little patch of grass that lines the water. Around them, people take pictures out of their rolled-down car windows.

They sit in silence for a minute, and then Aubrey decides she’s dumb enough to bring it up again. “I swear it’s really no big deal I’ve never dated anyone,” she says. She can’t help it. It makes her feel a little better to say it.

Raphael looks over, his features a little blurry in the dark. “I don’t think it’s a big deal,” he says.

“I never know whether I should mention it on the first date or not.”

“You’ve had bad experiences.”

“Yeah. I mean, nothing crazy. I just think a lot of people don’t really want to invest time in someone who’s got everything to learn.”

To their right, an SUV props its trunk open and a couple around their age comes to sit together in the back to look at the water. Aubrey watches them for a second.

Raphael leans back on his elbows and crosses his ankles. “I get it. I just don’t think it’s that deep.”

“I can see that. It just feels deep for me, I guess. It’s grown into this thing, over time. It’s like you know it shouldn’t be a big deal, but everyone else kind of makes it feel like the end of the world itself.”

“Mm.” He concedes, “I mean, it is kind of surprising to hear.”

“Right. It was less surprising a few years ago. But now it’s like I’m trying to beat the whole world at this race I didn’t know I’d entered. And it just keeps getting harder and harder. And sometimes I wonder if maybe I should just lock something down to say I’ve done it and that’s it. Then I won’t be the twenty-seven-year-old woman who’s never been in a relationship anymore. I can’t really figure out what else would help me breathe just a little easier. But on the other hand, I think, I’ve waited so long it feels wrong to rush through it now. I might as well stick with it, at this point. Get it right.”

Raphael lays down then, folding his hands under his head to shield it from the grass. Silence lingers just a little too long. Now Aubrey’s words start to replay in her head, and she tries to decide whether she said anything wrong.

Then he frowns and asks, “You’ve never had a boyfriend? At all, really?” He sounds taken aback.

Aubrey has to laugh. She responds, “At all, really. Sorry, I thought we covered that.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I guess I’m just trying to wrap my mind around it. You’ve kissed someone, right?”

“Yes, I’ve kissed multiple someones.”

“Okay.” He nods, as if pleased with her answer. Then he asks, without looking at her, “But you’re not a virgin or anything, are you?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, you’ve been with people.” He pauses, as if for his words to weigh a little heavier. “Sexually.”

Aubrey lets the sentence reverberate through her brain. “Well, what a thing to say,” she huffs.

“I’m just asking, I don’t know. I don’t think you are, to be fair. You’re a stunning woman, I’m sure you could sleep with anyone you’d like.”

“Are only unattractive people virgins, then?”