Hailey was right in her actions. After the day at the beach, Aron was much more inclined to be with the others. He shared meals them again. He laughed more comfortably and breathed easier. The only thing different was how he seemed to completely refrain from sharing "laundry" stories. This was appreciated. For the first time that summer, a true and undeniable harmony was achieved which put everyone in a good mood...
"Sorry we're late." Hailey said walking into the dining room taking off her white gloves.
"I hope you haven't waited." Ernest said as he took Cara and Hailey's coats to hang them up.
"No!" May said as she wiped her mouth, "You know da roo-l, dinna always 7 oo-clock." She forked some carrots and chewed happily.
Hailey took a seat towards the head of the table near Edward, Ernest sat between May and Robert. Only one seat remained, towards the end of the table.
... A great mood...
"You can sit next to me." Aron cooed after sipping a little wine to wash down the previous oversized mouthful of chicken. Cara sat next to him and began to serve herself.
"How was the theater?" Aron asked casually.
"It was delightful." Cara said with a smile, "we're going back later tonight." She looked at him and took his hand under the table, "but it's nice to be back." She added in a low whisper with a squeeze of his hand. Aron froze as electricity ran through his entire body.
A really great mood...

The white curtains glowed as the light from the bright quarter moon shined on it. The windows of Aron's bedroom were opened a little to allow the summer winds to flow in freely. Aron changed into a wrinkled and soap-stained house shirt along with an old pair of cotton pants. He refrained from wearing shoes or socks and headed out his bedroom door.
The night proved to be darker than anticipated as he headed outside and towards the glass enclosure beside the sunroom. He walked in quietly and shut the door behind him tight. He navigated through the dark room with ease, struck a match and lit a half melted candle which bathed the small room in a warm amber glow.
He walked to the large sink and filled the familiar iron pot with water which he set on the small stove to heat. As he waited, he pulled a stool next to the large wooden tub nailed to the floor. One by one, he carefully placed various pieces of clothing into the tub. He stopped when he found shirts which were stained with spilled drink and lipstick. He scrubbed these with precise care, as he soaped away those nights, he felt better, as if the nights themselves were being scrubbed away and only the future remained before him. He walked over to the stove and took the pot. He poured it into the tub, careful not to let the water spill over. He threw a bar of soap into the mix along with a dozen lemon slices. As he groped around for the washboard he felt a draft tickle his neck followed by small footsteps. He stood immediately.
"What are you doing here?" Cara asked as she held a dim lantern towards Aron.

"I…uh…" in many cases, when this question was presented to him, a lie would've slipped from his lips smoothly. But instead, he decided to try the truth, "I like to do laundry." A pause, "Like… real laundry." An uncomfortably chuckle-sigh hybrid.

"That's sweet." Cara smiled and set the lantern down. She dragged a stool next to him and sat down. There was silence for a moment. The only thing that made a sound was the occasional sound of scrubbing.

"I missed you today." Aron admitted quietly. More silence, more scrubbing.

"No you didn't." Cara whispered, looking down at her nails. Aron sighed.

"I did." Aron said as he groped around in the half-darkness for the washboard once more. He found its shape and propped it against the rim of the tub. More silence mixed with the abrasion between the washboard and the clothes.

"You know," Cara said, cracking a smile, "You still haven't told me that personal thing from the other night." She looked at him hopefully. He couldn't help but smile.

"Why would you want to hear anything about my life?"

"Because!" she huffed, "You're… well… you! You're the enigma, the mystery person so infamous in and yet so desirable." She giggled, "And I want to meet you. The real Aron Anderson."

"Well," he half-laughed, thinking back to every adjective that others have used to describe him. Somehow, infamous and desirable have never been used, "Ask me something then, and I'll try not to lie." He took a shirt as she contemplated. The water splashed a little as he paid attention to her face.

"Anything?"

"Mhmm."

Scrub, swoosh, swoosh, scrub.

"Who was the first girl?"

The soap dropped into the tub. It floated for a moment, felt heavy and sunk down to the bottom.

"The first girl I…?"

"Laundry."

"Right…" He washed the soap residue off his hands and placed them on his knees.

In a way, she wanted to retract the question. In a way, he wanted her to disregard it, in a way, she wanted to know. In a way, he wanted to talk about it,

"It was a while ago…" He said with a sigh, he looked at Cara and smiled, "her name was Kathleen." He gulped, "It's uh… a long story…"

"I'm not tired." Cara smiled, Aron nodded and took a deep breath.

"We were very little. It was the autumn before my twelfth birthday. My father worked constantly and when we did have time, he usually spent half of it with someone else…"

When one looked at Mr. Andrew Anderson, one did not see the image of a man who wanted nothing more out of life than a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children. Although, before Hailey was born, that was exactly who he was. He barely spent time at the bank where he worked. His eyes shone with joy whenever you mentioned anything about his family. His house was always filled with light-hearted conversations and laughter. Life was full and bright. He was a proud man. He was a happy man.

"…You see, when Hailey was born, there were a few complications. I was only four so I didn't understand any of it. The only thing I knew was that my mother and father left one night and my father came back the next afternoon alone. One of the maids carried in Hailey…"

The doctors did not allow him into the delivery room, they did not give him the opportunity to hold his wife's hand as it grew stiff and cold. They denied him the chance to say a final 'I love you' before her eyes closed for the final time. He never did hold his daughter. He didn't want to see her. From then on, he began to stay a lot later at the bank. There was less life and more caretakers. More whispers and less laughs. More women and less comfort. More liquor and less father.

"…So here I am, twelve-ish… my father walks into the house and behind him is a very tall blonde woman with a long coat over her. Behind her is a girl who's about three or so years older than me but just around my height…"

The instructions were simple, the expectations were impossible.

"…He just told me 'make her feel nice, if not, it's not worth nothing'…"

The two sat on the bed for a while, trying hard to tune out the abrasive sounds from their parents in the other room. She wore this tiny white dress. It could've fit his sister.

"…Afterwards we wrapped ourselves in the blankets and held each other… and we cried…" Aron moved his head down, his hair fell in his eyes to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Cara saw something she never saw in its entirety: vulnerability. He looked like a painting, a heartbreaking painting, "I don't think I've ever cried so much in my entire life…" he sniffled a little, "I hated seeing her go… I really did…"

They dressed each other, trying to keep from touching bare skin. It warmed them to embrace fully clothed. It helped.

"…She was so beautiful..."

Her mother kept the money for both of them.

"…After that night, my father told me every single day that it was only right for a man to never love women. He told me that they would just hurt you. He forbade me to marry anyone… ever. He told me the only natural thing a man is to do in this life is to wake up every morning with a different woman…"

So that's what he did.

"… There was this one winter night though… my father and I were walking along the street around nine or something… we just came from a show… and on the end of this one alleyway, I thought I saw something weird… When I got close, I just knew it had to be Kathleen…"

Her face looked tired and drained. Her skin was pale and her eyes were big, she mumbled and sweat. Her hands shook with a violence seldom seen. Her chest bled

"I threw my coat over her and scooped her up from the gutter without a second thought. I carried her all the way to the hospital about ten blocks down." He took a few shirts from the tub and squeezed out the water. Cara was so engulfed in the story that a few small droplets of warm soap water that splashed on her bare forearm startled her. He continued.

"I got there and frantically asked around for someone… anyone who could help her. My father stood in the corner of the room, smoking his cigar."

After hours of nurses, doctors and nervous pacing, the doctors let Aron see Kathleen. They knew. He knew. This was simply a courtesy.

"She still looked tired but they bandaged the cut well enough. When I got her she was wearing this tiny bloody dress thing. In the hospital, she wore the cotton gown. She was so beautiful. She took my hand and she told me something… and not a day passes by where I don't think about what she told me."

'I'm so glad I loved you.' Her breathing slowed and gently came to a graceful halt. Thankfully, her eyes closed.

Another pause. Long. Painful. Emotional. Pause.

"And my father…" his voice cracked ever so slightly, "my father had the nerve to walk next to me in the waiting room and tell me…"

'Don't cry for her… Don't ever cry for anyone. That means that you love them. Don't ever love anyone. The moment you feel that love is part of the deal, you walk away. Even with me. One day, I'm going to leave. And don't you dare miss me.'

"He walked out of the hospital, I took a moment then followed him. He was right… He did leave… And I have yet to truly miss him…" Aron shook out a few more shirts and got up, quickly wiping his eyes on his arm. Cara walked towards him and looked up at Aron. She wiped a stray tear away with her thumb. He sighed, relieved.

"And here I was, wanting to ask who your first kiss was." She chuckled and took a few shirts from the pile on his arm and shook off the excess water before placing it on the wire to dry.

"Well, that would have been a shorter answer," Aron half laughed and laid a few shirts on the line as well, "I've umm… I've never kissed anyone on the mouth."

"Never?"

"No… not ever."

They secured a few shirts with clothespins in silence.

"Have you ever wanted to?"

"Yes."

"With who?"

"…" A few snaps of clothes pins, a few whooshes of clothes.

"With me?"

"…Yes…" a whisper.

"…Why haven't you?" More snaps, more whooshes. Aron bit his bottom lip. He could do one of two things. Either tell Edward's truth or tell his truth. Either way, he jeopardizes his friendship. But he saw no other way.

"You petrify me, Cara." Aron admitted quietly, "The way you smile at me and how you held my hand. It shakes me to my core. You look at me with this look... and I feel like you just see into my soul. I mean... I- I am so excited to see you every day..." he dropped the clothes on the floor and showed her his hands, "my hands shake..." he clutched his throat, "my throat gets dry. I want to hear what you have to say. I want to say or do something to make you laugh." His voice started to raise, "Goddamn it, you have no idea... how much... I love it when you laugh... you do this thing where your eyes water and your cheeks get real pink... you know, it's like..." a sigh, "Never-mind. But the point is, this isn't me... this is some mushy, crazy person that you bring out of me... someone who's nervous to talk to a girl! I mean, really! Wha... when have I ever been nervous to talk to a girl?" He held his forehead as he began to pace the room, "Never, that's when! But now I'm worried about sounding sophisticated and… suave but it always comes out awkward... You know that I haven't seen another girl since that day you got here? I've been getting calls every hour from girls who beg for me... and now" he turned over a nearby trash bag, freeing a heap of tiny pieces of paper onto the floor, "now I save their messages to start the fireplace!" He huffed, "I don't care about them. I don't care about anyone," he lowered his voice as he drew nearer to her, "I don't even care about myself…" he took her hands, "when you walk into a room, my world centers around you... and when you leave, I long for you to come back." Another sigh, he released her hands, "you care about me Cara. No one has ever cared about me like you have... you listen when I talk... you make me feel so important, always... and you are so pure... so innocent..." he took a deep breath and held her shoulders tight, "But I'm so afraid of falling in love with you."

Cara looked at him with a straight face. Her mood flickered from pity to understanding. She held his waist, stood on her toes and kissed his lips softly. They stayed for a few seconds unmoving. What she felt was undeniable. What he felt surpassed any other pleasure he'd ever experienced. She broke away slowly, leaning back on her heels.
"I think you already did." She said slowly and took her lantern as she walked towards the door.