It had been an entire week since Aria had last spoken to Ezra, and he to her. There were terse words exchanged in the classroom if any were exchanged at all. Aria was absent from Wednesday dinner, a commitment Ezra couldn't avoid if he didn't want to look suspicious. Ella said Aria was out with her friends. Ezra was both relieved and disconcerted—relieved because Aria should be spending more time with her peers and disconcerted because he realized that he selfishly wanted her to be spending time with him instead.
Dinner was both comfortable and slightly strained. Mike was anxiously awaiting the end of dinner so he could play a pick-up game of basketball at the park. Before he knew it, Ezra was left alone with both Ella and Byron, drinking a scotch as he sat in front of their fireplace. It was the perfect moment to tell them so many things, to confess what it is he had been hiding, but he didn't say anything. Instead, Ezra latched on to Ella's conversation about things that were happening at Rosewood High and discussed Henry James with Byron. At the bottom of his second glass of scotch, Ezra excused himself, his mood soured. Aria had still not come home.
He found himself at home, in his study, looking over the sheet of paper that had caused the entire mess, contemplating tearing it up and shredding it into little bits and pieces. No, he told himself, he couldn't do that yet, not until he talked to her. Ezra wandered restlessly around his house until he found his bedroom. He lay on his bed fully clothed, not bothering to summon the will to undress. He woke up like that the next morning—red-eyed and tired.
Aria knew why she was upset, and she knew why she wasn't speaking to Ezra, but the words themselves were hard to articulate. After the argument that had ensued when she had found his resignation letter, she stormed out of his house and had not reentered. The entire affair—the relationship itself—had left her feeling sordid and dirty. She and Ezra were illicit and wrong. The age difference alone was too much not to mention that they were student and teacher. She couldn't openly acknowledge she was in a relationship. She couldn't talk about Ezra with her friends. She couldn't tell her parents about the amazing guy she had met. Instead, she worried that they would all find out, that she would be viewed as the slut who couldn't keep it in her pants and Ezra would be sent off somewhere in handcuffs. Besides, Ezra loved his job. Who was she to jeopardize his entire career?
The resignation had just confirmed all the feelings of wrongness, had pushed away what little rightness she had felt. The resignation letter said that she and Ezra were not meant to be together. The resignation letter said that they were at different points in their lives. The resignation letter said Ezra was giving up on his dreams. The resignation letter said that Aria was just in high school and still a little girl. The resignation letter really said that Ezra was ready to move on with his life and that he was grateful for the opportunity Rosewood High had afforded him. It was full of polite tones and flowery words. She wanted to tear it up into tiny pieces.
Aria found herself at the Homecoming dance with Holden. She felt like she was cheating on Ezra. She kept telling herself that they were having a fight, that they hadn't broken up. She told herself that she and Holden were just going as friends. But the pictures her mother took of her dress and her date and the entire debacle of taking a dozen photos as she walked out the door of her house confirmed that one idea that she had wanted to push away and talk herself out of feeling. She and Ezra could never have a normal relationship. Her mother would never take a dozen pictures of them together as he whisked her off to a school dance.
Aria avoided Ezra at the Homecoming dance. He was a chaperone; he had things he needed to be doing besides staring at her. Besides, Spencer, the head of the dance committee, was panicking about pulling the whole thing off. She had sent her friends in various directions to check up on this or that. Recruited into checking the punch bowl at regular intervals, Aria found an excuse not to walk in Ezra's direction. And when Spencer wasn't worrying about the details, Hanna wasn't panicking about Homecoming Queen elections, and Emily wasn't feeling self-conscious about having Paige as her date, Aria roped Holden into dancing with her. She tried to enjoy the moment instead of having the experience escape her. She focused on balancing on her stiletto heels, bouncing to the rhythm of the music, making sure no food got on her dress. But when she saw Ezra leave, she couldn't help but follow him into the hallway, pulled in his direction by some inexplicable force.
"Ezra," she called, walking down the school hallway, her heels loudly clacking on the tile. "Wait."
Ezra stopped and turned around, sighing in frustration. "We can't do this, Aria," he began, a pained expression on his face. "Not here and not now."
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
He looked away, "I thought we could make this work, but seeing you out there on the dance floor with guys your own age. I can't compete with that."
"Nobody's asking you to," she offered quietly, knowing that wasn't quite true.
He shook his head. "We tried to make this work, but I'm your teacher, Aria."
"No, you're my family, Ezra," she retorted suddenly. "My mom considers you her son. I've known you since I was thirteen."
"But I'm not your family, and I wasn't your teacher then," said Ezra in frustration, agony lacing his voice. "And we weren't this," he gestured to the space between them. "You deserve more than awkward dinners at your parents' house and being holed up in mine." He shrugged. "I'm twenty-six-years-old and you're a high school student."
Aria suddenly stiffened at the insinuation, her body language becoming defensive. "Why did you write that letter?"
"Hardy noticed," he told her definitively. He looked at the space behind her. "Your friends are looking for you." He turned and walked away.
"Aria?" called a male voice behind her.
She took a deep breath, straightened her face, and turned around. "Yes Caleb?"
He looked at her curiously. "Hanna sent me to look for you. She wanted me to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine, thanks," she said, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. "Let's go back to the gym."
Monday morning, Aria rolled out of bed to look outside her window. She saw, for the first time in as long as she could remember, that Ezra had drawn all the curtains in his house closed. She got back into bed, curled up under the covers, and stared at the wall.
"Aria," called Byron, knocking on the open door of her room. "It's time to go to school."
"I don't feel well," she mumbled, exhaustion etched on her face. "My head hurts and my stomach feels awful."
"Do you think you're coming down with something?" asked Byron worriedly. "Do you need to go to the doctor?"
"I think it'll pass," answered Aria quietly. "But I think I should stay home today."
"Are you sure?" asked Byron, coming over to check her forehead with the back of his hand.
"Yeah. I think I'll be good tomorrow if I can rest today."
"Okay," agreed Byron reluctantly. "I'll go and tell your mother you're taking a sick day."
Aria was in school the next day, albeit reluctantly so. She explained to her friends that she hadn't been feeling well the day before, answering any questions they asked by citing a headache. Spencer looked at her oddly when she stated her excuse, but ended up saying nothing about it.
On a Saturday, Aria found herself stuck at Rosewood High, the last place she really wanted to be. She had been scheduled to take her SAT, but inclement weather and a power outage had postponed the exam. All students were being held at the school until the roads were safer to drive on. Aria couldn't go home anyway; her mom was a proctor for the exam and had to stay at the school until the students could go home. Ezra had to too.
Aria found herself wanting to escape the other people who were waiting for the storm to pass. She and Holden, along with Emily and Paige, left the rest of the students and walked around the school in the dark. The two swimmers went off alone when the notion of going to the pool in the dark suddenly appealed to them. Aria and Holden found themselves in an empty classroom, talking about her time overseas and his martial arts aspirations. It was a comfortable kind of talk that only childhood friends could have.
"Mr. Strauss," called a male voice in the dark, clearing his throat. Aria felt a flashlight shine on her and Holden. It was Ezra. "They want all the students in the library for safety reasons." He turned to Aria and she looked away. "Ms. Montgomery, I need to speak with you."
Holden left the classroom immediately, looking behind him at Aria curiously as he did so.
Aria was furious, "You had no right," she began.
"I have every right," Ezra answered. "I'm the teacher, remember?"
"You know Holden is just a friend," she let out in frustration. "Besides, is that really how you see yourself, as just the teacher?"
"I think we both know the answer to that question," said Ezra carefully.
"No I don't," replied Aria shortly as she picked her book bag. "Not anymore." She walked out of the classroom, her faint outline fading into the darkness. Ezra watched her disappear.
For the third time since she had been home from Iceland, Aria was sleeping over at Hanna's house. It was the perfect night for horror movies and pizza. The leaves were bright and vibrant autumn colors, the wind was whistling, the moon was full, and Mrs. Marin was out-of-town. It was also the first night Aria and Hanna found themselves at a sleepover without Emily or Spencer, and they had a lot of girl talk to catch up on. Aria wanted to know all about Caleb, where he was from, where his family lived, what he was into. They could talk all night if they wanted to.
Aria decided to walk to the Marin house; Hanna only lived two blocks away from her. Aria rang the doorbell expectantly, and found that the Hanna who answered the door was disturbed and upset about something. And she was biting her perfectly manicured nails. That was never a good sign. The two girls sat on the staircase, and Aria was quiet as she waited for her friend to talk.
"Isn't there somewhere else, someone else, you should be with tonight?" began Hanna suddenly.
"Hanna, what are you talking about?" asked Aria.
"Oh, come on, Aria," exclaimed Hanna in exasperation. "Just because I'm not Spencer doesn't mean I'm stupid. I know what's been going on with you and Mr. Fitz."
"Nothing is going on," said Aria startled.
"People are starting to notice things," let out Hanna in exasperation. "Caleb is asking me questions."
"Nothing is going on," repeated Aria. "Not anymore."
"Why don't you admit the truth?" asked Hanna. "Is it really that hard?"
"What truth?" echoed Aria hostilely. "That I'm a teenage slut who wants to seduce her teacher? No. It's over." She sunk back into the stairs after letting out frustration, cradling her head in her hands. "Ezra's twenty-six and I'm seventeen," she said quietly. "It would never have worked out."
Hanna was silent for a moment before she began, a look of thoughtful reminiscence on her face. "Do you remember when were in eighth grade, right after Mr. Fitz moved into his house?" Aria nodded miserably. "You used to like to read in that old tree house he has in his backyard. I remember one afternoon when you talked me into going with you. You rang the doorbell and Mr. Fitz let you in. He didn't treat you like you were some kid who was bothering him. You guys talked about books I had never heard of and places that I didn't know existed on a map." Hanna looked at her friend's defeated posture before she continued. "He treated you like an equal, even then. And even though we were only thirteen, I knew that you two were special." Aria looked at her friend, hope dimly lighting up in her eyes. "Go to him," finished Hanna softly.
"It doesn't make me look like I'm some girl who's whoring herself off to an older man?" asked Aria quietly.
Hanna shook her head at her friend's reluctance. "Go," she insisted.
Aria found herself walking back towards her house, her feet reluctantly turning the corner onto her street, propelled by Hanna's words. She looked up and saw that she was near Ezra's front yard. There were lights on in his house, but she couldn't see him through any of the windows. A part of her wanted to go to her own bed and curl up into a ball, and another part of her wanted to run all the way back to Hanna's. But a third part remained quietly angry with Ezra and wanted to confront him. Her fury won.
"Aria?" Ezra answered the door when she rang the bell. He looked disheveled and worn, haggard even.
"Why did you write it?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet, her mouth enunciating every word slowly.
Ezra craned his neck outside the window and looked onto the quiet, moon-lit street. "Come in?" he asked.
Aria stiffly complied, settling herself on the now-familiar sofa of his living room, her arms crossed as she stared at the Manet-like painting over the fireplace. "Well?" she prompted, not looking at him.
He sighed from his spot next to her. "I didn't write that letter so I could leave you. I thought if I resigned from Rosewood High, we could have a chance to be together." He shrugged. "I thought I would be able to take you to a nice dinner or movie, that my past wouldn't be a problem, that maybe we could tell your parents." He slumped in defeat.
"Ezra," began Aria softly, turning to look at him. "That letter was a symbol of everything that is wrong with us. It made me feel dirty, like I was somehow forcing you into something you didn't want to be in." She exhaled.
Ezra's eyes softened as he looked at her. "Oh, Aria," he exclaimed compassionately. "Don't ever think that," he told her firmly. Suddenly inspired, he dashed down the hallway before quickly returning, a sheet of paper in his hands. He stood in front of her and tore it up, shredding it into miniscule pieces before throwing the remains into the roaring fire.
"Getting rid of it doesn't change anything," said Aria sullenly.
He sat next to her and took her hands in his. "When I'm with you," he began, "everything feels so right. It's like we're meant to be together. I wrote that letter because I wanted to. Because I cared more about you than I did about my job."
Aria looked down at their intertwined hands before looking back up at his eyes. "This is dangerous," she said.
"It is," he agreed. "But I only care about you."
"We are a lot more wrong than we are right," she continued without hesitation.
"Are we?" he asked. "You've been the girl next door for as long as I've lived here."
"One right doesn't cancel out a dozen wrongs," she said, her will wavering.
"Forgive me?" he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. She didn't answer. "Forgive me?" he repeated, leaning in to her. Suddenly she grabbed him the shoulders and pulled him closer to her, her lips on his. How long they were like that, giving into their emotions, neither of them could say.
After they had made up, they looked at each other. No words were necessary to convey the emotions that they felt. She leaned in to kiss him one more time. His hand rested on the small of her back, his other hand pushed a few stray strands of hair away from her eyes. He twisted his arm so that it was holding her as she put her head in his lap. He stroked her hair softly.
"Can we stay like this forever?" she asked.
He chuckled in response and leaned in to kiss her temple. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
She sat up and shook her head. "No. I'm more tired than anything else. I haven't been sleeping well lately," she admitted.
"Do you want to stay here?" he offered.
"My parents think I'm over at Hanna's. They won't know if I spend the night here," she responded slyly, tugging his arm and pulling him off the couch. He complied to her silently request, giving her a look as she led him up the stairs.
When they reached the top, Ezra started hoarsely, "I think you should stay in the guest room."
"I know," responded Aria serenely as she walked to the end of the hallway and into the master bedroom.
"Aria," he sighed, following her as far the doorway.
"I just wanted to see what it looked like," she maintained, her back to him. "I've never been in here before." She took in the sight of the sparse room. It was painted a shade of green that was somewhere between sage and emerald, and quilt covered the bed. There was dresser of dark brown and vanity made of the same wood sporting a large mirror. She could see a door leading into a bathroom and angel figurine on the nightstand. A crocheted black blanket was folded over the foot of the bed.
She walked to the blanket and fingered it. "You kept it all these years," she whispered in awe.
"Of course," he answered softly, "you gave it to me."
She sat on the edge of the bed and continued to look around. "They're here," she stated, "you kept them as a part of this room." She ran her hand over the quilt.
He nodded. "I changed this room the least. I never repainted, and she made the quilt on the bed."
"Grandma did love angels," said Aria, gazing at the figurine.
"She did," smiled Ezra. "They're always watching over us."
Aria looked up and noticed he hadn't moved from his position in the doorway.
"I'm not going to bite," she said.
"I beg to differ," he half-laughed. But he still didn't move. She gave him a pointed look. He sighed. "I can't promise what will happen if I come in there."
She nodded, "I understand."
"Not yet, Aria," he told her gently.
She jumped off the bed and walked towards him. "Good night, Ezra," she said, tiptoeing to kiss him on the cheek.
"Good night," he answered and watched as she entered a room down the hall.
October 14, 2011
I'm so angry at him. Ezra called on me in class today knowing full well that I didn't want to talk to him. I've missed the last two Wednesday dinners just to avoid him. If I could skip his class, I would. But he just had to ask me about how I felt about that stupid poem. Why?! Is he really that dense? Does he really not get it?