Archie Simpson never would have predicted that the highlight of his day would be talking with one of his students. That's the thing about life, though – sometimes it throws things at a person that they'd never expect. Once upon a time, the highlight of his day was playing music with the Zits, then it became getting good marks in his university classes, then spending time in his very own classroom. And then one day he got Christine back and it all became about her – about making her smile, about kissing her, about getting done with the day just to spend time with her. Spending time with Christine, with Emma, with Jack, that was the best part of his life for a time. But that's the thing – it's that things change.
Talking with Darcy – just talking with her – is unlike anything else in his life right now; unlike a wife who doesn't seem to understand him anymore, unlike a stepdaughter that doesn't respect him and a son that's just like his mother. She tells him that he's the only one she can talk to. She tells him that she likes him because he's not trying to fix her, change her, make her into something she's not. And the funny thing is that it goes both ways.
He can talk, and Darcy will listen. He tells her about Christine and about Daphne and sometimes he just talks about what it means to be Archie Simpson, because some days he's still trying to figure out exactly what itdoes mean to be Archie Simpson. He talks, and Darcy listens, and sometimes a small part of the back of his mind notices that Darcy is the only woman he's ever known to let him speak and to listen.
"The thing about Daphne," he says, "the thing about Daphne is that someone was finally paying attention to me, but in retrospect, I think the secrecy was the most appealing part."
Darcy smiles a shaky half-smile. "A friend told me once that every girl's entitled to a secret." She's trying, but then her smile wavers and her eyes fill with tears.
Archie's sitting perfectly still, not moving not breathing just waiting. It's Darcy who moves into his waiting arms. Her composure breaks and she starts crying, silently, into his shirtfront and she's clinging as if her life depends on it. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close – because she's crying and that's what you do when girls cry, he reasons. He feels the sobs shake her body, and then she stills, but doesn't stop clinging. She snuggles in, in fact, presses a kiss against his chest and it's as though time suddenlystops.
Maybe she's confused me with her father, Archie reasons, almost desperately, then discards the thought. His heart is racing; he wonders if she notices. As if by instinct, he drops his chin against the top of her head, breathes in the violet scent of her hair, closes his eyes.
The way it's unfolding is inevitable, he realises. There's no stopping now, even if he wanted to stop.
(He doesn't want to stop.)