Goodbye, there's just no sadder word to say
And it's sad to walk away
With just the memories
Who's to know what might have been
We'll leave behind a life and time
We'll never know again
- Leann Rimes (Please Remember)
Aaron hated feeling sorry for himself. When he'd resigned from the White House, he'd barely allowed himself a half a day of wallowing in self pity. Of course, the depression had set in soon after that, but he still hadn't felt sorry for himself. He hadn't allowed himself to let go of his routines and turn to the bottle. Tonight all bets were off.
He hadn't even bothered to start with beer, but had turned straight to the hard stuff. Scotch. Vodka. Whatever. As long as it was strong. Even in his current state he was able to comprehend that he hadn't had this much to drink since college. He actually had to chuckle at the thought. Back then it had been all about having a bit of fun, letting go, and tonight was all about getting some very disturbing images out of his head. Images that weren't even real. Mostly, anyway. Or that was what he kept on telling himself between shots. What was worse was knowing that at some point they could be real, and he'd have to be around to see most of it.
It had all started when Seth had come to see him earlier that night. He didn't do that as often as he used to these days, especially not to chit chat. After tonight Aaron hoped he'd never stop by again unless the White House was on fire.
"Emily kissed me."
That was all Seth had said, and yet far more than Aaron cared to hear. Why did he even have to tell him this? They were hardly friends anymore. He'd been feeling bad about it for months, but now he was starting to put two and two together. It made sense. Now, thanks to Seth, he was imagining them. Doing all the things he used to think he had a chance to do with Emily.
Seth had looked like he was about to apologize, which was the last thing he wanted. No pity, definitely no apologies. Instead he wanted the impossible: the ability to turn back time, but since that wasn't going to happen, he just wanted to be left alone. It sure as hell wasn't his job to make Seth feel better about that. They used to be friends. This was not what friends did.
So he'd said nothing, clicked on something on his computer and then promptly claimed to Seth that he had a meeting to attend, leaving the press secretary standing alone in his office. As if nothing meant anything, although he guessed that was true these days. There were so many things he could've said, some of them angry, some of them mean, some of them sarcastic, but indifference had definitely been the way to go. Seth was empathetic and good with emotions, and selfishly Aaron hoped he'd managed to hurt him by not allowing him to say what he wanted, at least just a little bit. Just the thought made him itch for another drink to drown the memories of the camaraderie he'd once felt with Seth. How hard it had been to say goodbye to him, even when he'd been the only one who knew it was a goodbye.
If only he never had to work with either one of them again. Never give them a chance to talk to him. For so long he'd hoped for a resolution for him and Emily, but not like this. This wasn't closure, but a full-on gutting.
Rejection. Betrayal. Interrogation. Humiliation. Resignation. Failure. Another resignation.
Those words described the last 15 months of his life perfectly. If he had to pick only one word, it would be loss. Loss of his dream job, loss of friends. Loss of the person he'd began to fall in love with.
He'd never felt this tired in his entire life. This breakdown may have been a long time coming when you looked at his recent track record, and now... He was emotionally bankrupt, there was no way around it. As much as he tried to summon them, there were no more resources to be utilized, they'd all been depleted. He guessed everyone had their breaking point, and he'd reached his. Never before had disappearing into rural Texas felt like a better idea, although it had seemed pretty damned appealing after his first resignation.
And yet, somehow, in the morning he'd get himself together, go to work and pretend everything was all fine and dandy. He cursed as the blurry outline of a dark-haired woman appeared in his field of vision. Why did he have to see her even after all these drinks? When she approached, his booze-addled mind realized that it was really Emily. The absolute last person he wanted to see tonight. How had she even found him? He'd purposefully picked one of his favorite bars close to his own apartment to avoid running into anyone he worked with. She'd never been there with him. Maybe she'd been there with someone else. God, he was going to have to pick out a new bar to frequent, wasn't he?
"Hey. Is this seat taken?" she asked, taking the seat across the table from him before he could force his mouth open.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in return, or that was what he thought he'd asked, because Emily was frowning at him as if he'd spoken Chinese.
"Wow. I've never seen you this drunk before. I have no idea what you just tried to say," she replied.
"Why. Are. You. Here?" he asked again, more pointedly, already wondering if how many tries it would take her to understand "Go away."
She sighed.
"I came to find you."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
"Seth told me you two talked and he was-"
"Don't want to hear about it. Not my business."
"Aaron-"
"Get out."
"Are you really that stupid? We're all friends!"
"Not anymore."
That shut her up, and as he felt his own eyes begin to sting, he saw the unshed tears in hers. Something old and tender twisted in his gut, but he buried it, like he'd been doing for so long. It was even more useless now.
"Have you forgotten everything?" she asked quietly.
"Not me. You." God knew there were days he felt as if he was the only one to remember everything.
She shook her head.
"I haven't forgotten. Although there are things I wish I could forget."
"Obviously."
"Are you going to shut your drunken mouth and listen to me for a minute?" she hissed.
Fine.
"One minute."
Then he'd tell her to leave him alone.
"Good. First of all, I knew where to look for you because you told me about this place. It was a long time ago, but I'm not as demented as you seem to think."
Oh. Maybe he had told her. Back when things... When things were different.
"And I care more than you seem to think. I've made plenty of mistakes as of late, and more than one person's suffered because of them. I'm sorry, Aaron. I know there's a lot of unresolved business between us, and at least half of that is my fault. You're too far gone to talk about all that tonight, but we should get together at a better time."
He almost caved in, but stopped himself at the last second. No. He wasn't going to let her hurt him again. Why resolve anything now that it was so obvious that it wouldn't amount to anything?
"Nothing to talk about. Your minute's up, Em."
Instead of standing up, Emily let out a frustrated huff and rubbed her temples.
"I was thinking we could sort this out when you're not in danger of alcohol poisoning, but clearly that's not in the cards. So, I'm going to spell this out for you very clearly and I hope your vodka-saturated brain is still able to process this in the morning: I. Am. Not. Interested. In. Seth. We. Are. Not. Dating."
Aaron blinked.
"Really?" he asked.
"Really."
He could hardly believe it.
"What about-" he started.
"I told you I've made mistakes lately."
"Okay."
"So, do you think we can talk about everything when you're sober again?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Yeah."
And then, like a miracle, her hand reached for his on the table. She calmly unwrapped his fingers from the half-finished glass of vodka and downed it in one gulp.
"That was mine," he said, but already he could feel his mouth curving into a smile.
"I know, but I think I earned that one," she answered.
Leaning slightly forward over the table, he finally allowed the weariness in his body to show. He really needed to sleep. To his surprise, he felt Emily's forehead land against his.
"I've missed you," she whispered.
He nodded, unable to utter another word, unless he wanted everyone at the bar to see him crying. She'd never know how much he'd missed her. Or maybe, just maybe, she would.