This is my last update for the night. I hope you all have enjoyed. I'll try to update more tomorrow. Please, please, review! I do not own PLL.
Aria couldn't remember much about December 30, 2008 except that it was the day before New Year's Eve, but her journal entry for January 30, 2009 read "Ezra and Simone broke up." She could see what was happening in his house from her bedroom window. Simone was crying and Ezra was standing in his living room with his hands in his pockets, staring at his feet. She said something to him before storming out of his house. The tires of her car screeched as she flew down the street. Aria went back to her homework, trying to figure out why x+y=xy.
Later that night, Ezra came home. Aria saw that he was struggling to make it to his front door and pull his keys out of his pocket. She recognized Hardy as he came to Ezra's aid, coxing him and gently guiding him toward his house. She had never seen Ezra drunk before. She should have been in bed asleep. But she was restless and something was keeping her up. As she looked out the window, she had a feeling Ezra was going to miss school in the morning.
On January 31, she went over to his house after school. She brought some cookies her mother had made the day before as a gift. She rang the doorbell.
He opened the door slowly, shutting his eyes against the dim rays of the sun. "Aria?" he mumbled.
"Yup," she answered cheerily. "I brought cookies."
"Thanks," he grunted. "Come in and put them in the kitchen." She did as she had been bid and noticed that the kitchen walls had been repainted a golden yellow color. When had that happened?
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she said. He sprawled out on the couch, a pillow over his face.
"Can you bring me an aspirin?" he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. They're in the bathroom cabinet."
She grabbed the bottle in the bathroom and went back into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. She placed both on the coffee table next to him and waited. After a few minutes, he grabbed a couple of aspirin and downed the glass of water.
"Feel better?" she asked, sitting on the loveseat.
"Not really," he groaned. "I haven't gotten that drunk in years."
"Want to tell me about the last time?" she asked.
"No," he ground out. He sighed. "It was about a girl."
"So was last night," she pointed out.
"Ughh," he huffed and put the pillow back over his face.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Simone and I broke up," he answered. He tried to sit up in the sofa. Failing, he laid back down.
"Obviously," replied Aria.
He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "She wanted to move in. We had been together eight months. She thought it was time."
Aria leaned forward, her elbows in her knees, her hands in her face. "Well?" she prompted.
"I told her I didn't love her."
"Ouch," responded Aria. She sat there for a few minutes before getting up. "Do you need anything else before I leave?"
"A cure for a hangover would be nice," mumbled Ezra.
Aria smirked. "I guess I'll tell Mom you're not coming to dinner tonight."
"Tell her I'll see her at school tomorrow."
"Will do," said Aria heading out the front door.
On February 12, Aria was at Ezra's house begging like an abandoned puppy. "Please?" she asked.
"Remind me why I would want to spend my Saturday night with a bunch of teenage girls," he deadpanned.
"Please, Ezra. We're fourteen. I really want to go to this concert. Mom and Dad said if you took us they would be fine with it. Please. I really don't want to go to my first concert with my parents. Please. It's in Philadelphia. Please. It's not like you have a date on Saturday night. Please. Please. Please."
He sighed. "What about Spencer's parents. And Hanna's. And Emily's? Surely they're not agreeing to this hare-brained scheme?"
"Yes they are," said Aria excitedly. "We can go if you come with us. Please. Please. Please?" The last please was a question.
Ezra mentally battled with himself. Hanging out with four-teenage girls on a Saturday night was not his idea of fun, but Aria wanted him to say yes so badly. "Fine," he said, resigned. "But I have to choose the music we listen to on the way there and the way back."
"Thank you, Ezra," she squealed. She gave him a quick hug before running out the door to tell her parents the good news.
Three days later, on February 15, Aria wrote in her blue cloth journal. "I went to my first concert. It was awesome." She taped a picture of her friends and Ezra on the blank page next to her entry.
On February 28, 2009, Ella sent Mike to Ezra's house and to tell him it was an emergency. Byron had fallen on some ice in the driveway. Could Ezra please take the kids to the hospital while she rushed Byron over there?
That night, Aria wrote in her journal "Dad is going to be alright." Her father had a mild concussion and some bleeding to his head. He was going to spend the night in the hospital under observation. Ella was going to stay with him. Aria and Mike were relegated to spending the night at Ezra's house where they would have quick access to home if they needed anything.
Ezra fed them pizza and wore Mike out with video games before putting him to bed in the extra bedroom. He was soon asleep. Aria on the other hand, was a different matter. Her mood was hard to gauge. She sat in the living room in her pajamas. Her hair cascading down her shoulders, staring at the wall.
"Are you okay?" he asked sitting next to her.
She turned to look at him. "I'm fine just restless. I know dad's going to be okay, but…" she let the word hang.
"But," he agreed.
"Let me show you something," he got up from the couch and walked towards the hallway. "Follow me," he called back to her. He knew she was following when he heard her slippers shuffling on the hardwood floor.
When he reached the last door on the right of the hallway, he stopped and opened it. Aria had never been in this room before. It was painted light blue. There was a mahogany desk leaned up against the window. A typewriter was sitting on its corner and it was filled with dozens of white papers. But the small room was filled with bookshelves which were in turn filled with books.
"Why have you never shown this to me before?"she asked in wonder, fingering the spines of both paperback and leather-bound books.
He shrugged. "It was my place to be alone, my room. It was the only thing I really changed when I first moved in here."
"Do you write a lot?" she asked pointing to the desk.
"I try," he responded. "What do you think?"
"I like it," she answered. "I like it a lot. Thanks for asking." She smiled at him. It was her first real smile since the hospital. "Any suggestions," she said gesturing towards the books.
He looked at the shelves thoughtfully before selecting one of the older books from a second shelf. "It's by James Joyce. The Dubliners. It's a selection of short stories about people who are stuck, paralyzed."
She looking down at the book her offered her and then back up at him. "Do you have a favorite story?"
"The Dead," he replied easily. "The last one."
She took the book from him. "Thanks," she said before heading up to the guest room. "Good night, Ezra."
"Good night, Aria." She slept well that night. Better than she had in weeks.
On March 4, Aria's journal entry was filled with happiness. "The girls are spending the night" it read. It was a Friday, and Aria was ready to spend with pizza and nail painting and a Miss Congeniality DVD.
"What do you guys think of Sean?" asked Hanna, focusing on painting her toenails a bright red.
"He's cute," responded Aria. "Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"Because I like him," she replied. The girls squealed and then quickly quieted down before Mrs. Montgomery came in to tell them about the noise.
A few minutes later, Spencer asked "What do you think about Ian Thomas?" Her clear finger nail polish had dried a long time ago and she was busy munching on popcorn from the bowl.
"Isn't that Melissa's boyfriend?" asked Emily working on a blue toenail.
Spencer nodded. "He kissed me the other day."
"Really?" Aria looked up from her purple fingernails.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Hanna, looking at her friend with genuine concern.
"I don't know," said Spencer dejectedly. "I just don't know." The girls spent the rest of the night whispering in hushed tones about boys and girl friends and kissing. It was late when they went to sleep, or rather, it was early in the morning. They has spent their night talking the way most teenage girls do.