Chapter 43

I enjoyed spending time with Nicole, but we had achieved very little studying. So I spent most of the next morning trapped in one of the Academy’s libraries, studying for my upcoming exams.

Yet as hard as I tried to concentrate, my thoughts continued returning to the story of the Lover’s Ferris Wheel and an unbidden fantasy of Asher leaning in close for a kiss.

I dropped my head, face first, into the open textbook on the table before me.

Everything felt so impossible: studying, thinking clearly, kissing Asher on top of the Ferris Wheel…

Straightening, I snapped my book closed. I’d come to the library to be free of distractions, but maybe some distractions were what I needed, to keep my mind off Asher.

With a sigh, I decided to try studying at the coffee shop instead.

As I gathered my books to leave, a vaguely familiar older woman walked into the library. She had a purse instead of a book bag, so likely wasn’t a student. She searched among the stacks and study areas.

When a librarian approached her, she said, “I’m looking for my daughter.”

At once, something clicked in my mind and I realized that I recognized this woman from wayward student Aimee’s social media accounts.

Every Mother’s Day, Aimee posted this woman’s picture and a sweet message. At birthdays and Christmases, she was always at Aimee’s side, smiling wide.

I hurriedly packed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and approached her.

The librarian apologized and excused herself. “If you needed help searching for a book, I could help, but…”

The woman lowered her head, dejected.

“Excuse me,” I said, when I neared her. “Are you Aimee’s mom?”

Her eyes snapped to mine, hers flush with hope once more. “You know my daughter?”

I led Aimee’s mother to an alcove in the entryway of the library, somewhere we could talk freely without disturbing the librarian or studying students.

“Aimee hasn’t been answering my calls. She’s stopped reading my texts.” She worried her hands together. “I finally decided to come check on her, but she won’t answer the door when I knock.”

Her eyes were red from crying. She’d smudged her lipstick, rubbing her hands nervously over her face.

“If you know anything, please tell me… Please…” Her tears fell freely and she sobbed.

I guided her to the bench in the alcove, and we sat. I dug through my bag for a tissue.

“I don’t know much. She’s been avoiding me too,” I said, handing her the tissue. “I took her some classwork that she missed.”

“She’s been missing classes, too?”

I hesitated, then nodded.

I wondered if she knew about Aimee’s abortion. I was unwilling to tell her if she didn’t already know. It felt too much like sharing my own secret.

“She used to be my little bundle of sunshine,” Aimee’s mother said. “She’d call me every evening just to hear about my day. But then… after…”

Her body shook with her sobbing. “She still called for a while, but everyday became every other. Then once a week. Then, once a month. Now, nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to comfort her. She didn’t seem to hear me.

“At first, she was so upset. I did my best to console her. But when her gloom went away, this… void filled her instead. She was a shell. She wouldn’t say more than three words to me on the phone, not even I love you.”

Again, I thought of bringing up Aimee’s abortion. If her mother knew why this was happening, maybe it would at least give reason to her pain. It wouldn’t make it better, but…

“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” her mother said, halting my thoughts.

She already know! And she still felt such grief for her daughter? I tried to imagine my own mother in the same position. I did not see her shedding tears, but instead shaking with outrage.

How dare you embarrass this family!

“If I’d known… If she had told me how scared she was… I would have helped. I don’t know how, but I would have done something.”

Aimee’s mother wiped the tears from her eyes, but new ones kept falling. “She’s so alone now. I don’t know how to reach her. If you hear from her… If you can get through to her where I failed…”

“I’ll do what I can,” I told her.

We exchanged numbers on the promise that I would call her if I heard anything about Aimee, good or bad. As we said goodbye, she pulled me into a hug.

It was a good, motherly hug, the kind I had always dreamed about getting from my own mother. All-encompassing and safe. I closed my eyes and held back my own tears, my heart aching with longing.

When we parted, I looked at my phone, my mom’s contact info open on the screen.

I desperately wanted to call her, but I knew it wouldn’t be like in my dreams. My mom was nothing like Aimee’s.

So I backed out of my contacts and clicked off the screen of my phone.

As evening set in, I paced the length of my dorm room, trying to decide if I should call Asher.

I didn’t have a reason to call, exactly, other than wanting to hear his voice. But friends called each other, didn’t they? When I told him I wanted to be friends, didn’t that include this caveat?

I really just wanted to talk to him.

Groaning my own cowardice, I snatched my phone off my bed and dialed.

I realized too late that maybe I should have given this more thought. What if he was out doing something? It’s not like Asher just sat around waiting for me to call him.

When he picked up, loud music and chatter of a party were in the background. “Cynthia.”

Shame sunk in my stomach. Of course he had a life outside of me. I was only embarrassing myself by calling him out of the blue.

Was it too late to just hang up?

“Something wrong?” he asked. Though the line, I heard a door creak open, then all the party noises diminished.

Even more shame piled onto me. “No, no, nothing like that. I, uh… was hoping to talk?”

“Oh.” I thought he might be angry, but he sounded relieved when he said, “Okay.”

Silence fell between us. Asher had told me once before that he found small talk unnecessary.

If I wanted a conversation to happen, I would have to be the one to lead it. I searched my mind for some topic we could talk about that he wouldn’t think too frivolous.

“Have you heard about the local carnival? Nicole says it’s coming to town soon.”

“This weekend,” he said. “I’ve heard.”

“Have you been to it before?”

“No.”

I waited, but no elaboration came.

“Me, either,” I said. There had to be something I could tell him, though, other than… “Did you know there is a rumor about the Ferris Wheel?”

I should not have brought this up. The last thing I needed Asher to know was that I’d been fantasizing about a romantic future with him. But I could not stop talking when I started. The silence on the line made me too nervous.

And, my traitor heart couldn’t help but hope that he might be willing to ride with me.

“Nicole said that if a couple ride the Lover’s Ferris Wheel and kiss at the top, they’ll be together forever.”

Asher huffed. “Superstitious nonsense.”

Two words hurt me more than they should have.

He wouldn’t ride the Ferris Wheel with me. That had always been a longshot hope. But he didn’t have to be so flippant and dismissive.

“Maybe I’ll go with Joseph, then,” I said, offended, “since it doesn’t mean anything.”

“No,” Asher said at once, voice sharp.

“But if it’s superstitious nonsense –”

“You will not ride that Ferris Wheel with Joseph, Cynthia.”

Shivers ran through me, tingling. That insistent tone of his made my knees weak.

“You will not promise him forever, imagined or otherwise.”