Not Without You

four

Aria

I hang back, watching Leo's form as he winds calmly and casually through the crowd, backpack balanced on his shoulders. Near the front of the building, he stops to grab one of the many complimentary trail maps we supply. I don't know why he grabs one, but I'm assuming it's because he wants to study the trails and be prepared for Friday. However, I could be wrong because nothing about this run-in seems calm or casual. It simply can't be a coincidence. If second run-in had occurred weeks or months later, then I would feel so iffy about it. But twice in two days? Come on.

A weird feeling thrashes in my stomach, an equally as strange combustion of anticipation and curiosity. I look down at the papers, inspecting all the information he's written down. It's indecent of me to be reading up on him like this, but I can't help myself. As I'm reading, an odd sense of déjà vu rises deep inside me. I've seen that address before. Only yesterday was I up there, making sure we had a hold on the venue for Uncle Hainsey and Aunty Emyln's anniversary celebration.   

My frown deepens. Unless he knows the lady I was talking to yesterday, then I'm not sure as to why else he would be staying up at the stables for the summer. Then again, it does contribute to why else he would be loitering around that risky corner. He must have been on his way back up to the stables and decided to stop at the crash site.

"So? How did it go?"

I look up to see Grandma leaning against the doorway. The morning rush has died down a little, allowing her some time to slip away and come chat with me. She looks tired, but that's what happens when you're in your late sixties and are still working. There have been countless times where Mom and Dad, Uncle Hainsey and Aunty Emyln, and even Benn and I, have tried to convince Grandma to retire, but she just won't go for it. Dad always says something about how he now fully understands where the stubbornness in the Walker women comes from whenever this happens.

"He filled out all the papers," I reply. My voice comes out a pitch higher than usual and I'm hoping she doesn't notice my sense of unease.

"And?"

I tug at my braid. "He, uh, filled out all the papers?" I repeat, the tone of question in my voice. "And he said he's looking forward to being here on Friday?"

Grandma responds with a faint chuckle and it makes me uncomfortable because it's the type of chuckle that foreshadows her asking another question.

"How do you know him, Aria?"

Silence lingers between us for several seconds, and I'm hoping that she'll give up and walk away, forgetting this conversation ever happened. But she doesn't. She stands here, arms crossed and the silver highlights in her grey hair giving off a metallic shine.

I sigh, sitting down in the office chair, pushing myself back and forth on the wheels as I speak. "Yesterday, when I was coming back from the stables, I came around that sharp corner and nearly hit him," I admit, shame filling my voice. "We had quite the conversation after. I'm surprised to see him here, that's all."

For some reason, I don't mention the reason why Leo was there. It feels too...personal to mention. From the way he spoke to me that day, I don't think he meant to be caught visiting the crash site. I don't think he meant to tell me about his father. What I do believe is that he was caught-up in the moment and running entirely off of emotions.

"He must have been all over you," Grandma chuckles. "Despite the circumstances."

I raise my eyebrows and look to the side, hiding the look of disappointment on my face. Just because I created an identity for myself doesn't mean I enjoy it. As much as I love hockey, I miss the days when I could go into a bookstore and browse for hours upon hours without anyone putting a name to my face. I miss going out with my friends back in Calgary and not having to carefully calculate every decision I make in order to avoid being shamed by social media. Just once, I wish I could go out and be myself and not have to worry about doing something detrimental to my reputation.

"No," I reply distantly. "I think he was too upset with me to care about who I was."

I'll never know what my grandma is about to say next because Benn comes barrelling in, claiming that he's starving and needs someone to go and get him lunch from one of his favourite food trucks. "The taco one next to that local honey place," he clarifies, rubbing his stomach that apparently in pure agony.

"Why not ask one of the swarm members waiting outside for you?" I ask, rolling my eyes. Just like every summer that's gone by since Benn joined the Canucks, there's a plethora of girls and women loitering around and inside our building, pretending to be interested in mountain biking when all they really want to do it get in Benn's pants.

It sickens me.

But what sickens me even more is the fact that I don't have a plethora of men and boys competing for my attention. Apparently, being a woman and playing hockey is unnatural and creates an intimidating allure around you. Sure, people still talk to me, but there's rarely ever been any flirting involved. I don't understand, aside from my biological components, what makes me any different from a male hockey player.

"I'll go," I reply, collecting my bag and sunglasses. "I'm on my break anyway."

Benn presses the palms of his hands together and bows in my direction. "Cuz, you are are lifesaver."

"And you're an overdramatic loon," I retort.

He strokes the dark stubble on his jaw, a cocky grin on his lips, and picks up my hat, setting it down atop his greasy hair. "I thought that's what you called your little brother."

Thankfully, Benn isn't too much taller than me, so it's easy for me to grab the hat from him. "It's a scientific term used to describe the male population, Bennett — look it up."

"You two," Grandma chuckles.

I'm tempted to smack the smug grin right off of Benn's lips, but I opt for another route of revenge: He despises guacamole, so I'm going to make sure they put extra on the tacos he wants me to order him. "I'll be back in half an hour or so — if I can manage to break through the swarm outside, that is." I look at Grandma. "Do you want me to pick up anything for you?"

She shakes her head. "Hurry back as quick as you can, Aria. We're about to hit peak crowds and we're going to need as many pairs of hands as we can get."

"Roger that," I reply, giving her the two-finger salute as I exit the small office and wind my way through the busy building.

Feeling the warmth of the summer sun on my face is a beautiful thing, causing me to sigh in pleasure. Just when I thought the rain wasn't going to give up, the sun breaks through and grants us with typical Whistler weather. Making sure I haven't caught anyone's attention, I put on my sunglasses and hat, tilting my face down to the compact dirt and knotted roots.

Normally, I would tell Benn to shove his problems up his ass and deal with them, but I'm thankful to get out of that stuffy building and be breathing the summery alpine air. With everything that's happened in the past couple of days, I need this moment to myself, blending in with the crowds and momentarily forgetting who I am while I try to figure out why Leo and I continue to run into each other.