Aaron had once claimed to know everything about Keeley, backing this up with surprisingly specific observations. This seemingly explained how he'd discovered her dream without her ever mentioning it. Still, she needed confirmation.
"How did you know?"
"Cystic fibrosis is a rather specific area of study. I remembered learning about it in biology class—the breathing problems it causes. There's a picture of a young blonde boy in your dad's house, wearing a nasal cannula; he looks a bit like you. It wasn't rocket science."
So his observational skills were to thank. She was almost impressed.
"Um…did he die from it? Is that why it matters so much to you?"
Keeley's surprise at his directness made her answer without thinking. She'd never spoken of this to anyone before.
"Yes and no. He was coming home from the hospital—another mucus-thinning treatment—when he and my mom were mugged. They were both shot," she said flatly.
She heard a sharp intake of breath. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have said anything."
"It's fine. It was a long time ago." His unusual display of concern, a break from his typically flat tone, slightly lifted her spirits. She appreciated that he clearly felt bad about causing her pain.
"I was planning on becoming a geneticist anyway, to find a cure, so he could have a better life. But after losing Kaleb, I knew I had to do it, so no other child would suffer the same fate. Kind of silly, huh?"
"I don't think it's silly at all. But why didn't you ever tell me?"
An excellent question. For one, he'd never asked. He hadn't shown the slightest curiosity about her molecular biology degree. More significantly, she'd been so traumatized by her mother's and brother's deaths that speaking about them had been impossible back then.
Pursuing her dream had been therapeutic. Having an extra lifetime's worth of perspective certainly helped. She'd finally healed enough to move forward.
"You never asked," she said bluntly. "And it was hard to talk about them then. It's gotten a lot easier."
Why was she even discussing this with Aaron? She was furious with him for ruining her weekend! She shouldn't have answered his call. So why had she?
Was it loneliness? A desire to hear a friendly voice from someone who cared? The idea that her cold, callous ex-husband could be considered friendly was laughable, yet here she was.
"I didn't, did I?" he asked quietly. "That was pretty stupid of me. But why didn't you go on to get your doctorate when we returned to New York?"
Asking that was also stupid. He should have known.
"You were constantly on my case about working at Ace Burger. When you said I should 'take a break,' I thought you meant I shouldn't work at all," Keeley said flatly, her earlier annoyance resurfacing. This guy could be incredibly dense.
"You hated that job! I only wanted you to relax. If I'd known you'd take my words so literally, I never would have said anything. I've learned you tend to work yourself to death."
It almost sounded like teasing, but that wasn't Aaron's style.
"That's rich, coming from the world's biggest workaholic," she snorted.
"I believe that title belongs to you. Your days are much longer than mine now. At least I generally stop working when I get home."
That wasn't his style either. She'd always seen him working from home. "What do you even do with your life when you're not working?"
"Read. Sometimes Dinah joins me and sits on whatever I'm reading."
"Nonfiction, right?" It was all she'd ever seen him read.
"Yes. I read a rather interesting biography the other day about Alexander Hamilton."
"Fascinating," Keeley said sarcastically.
Of course, the guy who'd spent his free time reading elderly people's magazines in high school would enjoy that. At least in this life it made sense; mentally, he was an older man.
"How old are you?" she blurted.
"…Twenty-four, just like you."
"I mean, mentally. How many years have you been alive?"
"Oh." He seemed surprised. "It'll be sixty-six in September."
"Geez, you're old. I'm only thirty-nine." He was nearly twice her mental age, even though she was physically a few months older, as always.
"I did live a long time without you, Keeley," Aaron said, a hint of condescension in his tone.
What had he done all that time? He'd claimed to have spent it working after getting revenge on her. Knowing him, it was probably true. What a terrible way to live. He must have been lonely.
She didn't feel sorry for him, though. If anything, it was fair punishment for making her feel so alone during their marriage. Karma always catches up.
He spoke again. "I missed you every single day."
The tears, which had subsided, returned. That jerk. It wasn't fair that he could still evoke such an emotional response.
"So what? It was your fault I died. You deserved it."
"I know."
"You still deserve it," she said, though her voice lacked venom. She was tired. This conversation had exhausted her.
"I know that too."
"Why did you call me?" she asked wearily. He hadn't explained.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay. It's never good when people stare at the ocean looking depressed in movies," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.
"…Since when have you watched those kinds of movies?"
"I've watched a lot more movies since being reborn."
"Why? You hate movies."
"You don't, though. I wanted a common topic to talk about when I met you again."
Ugh, there he was, being nice again. It would have been better if he'd stayed a jerk. Keeley refused to let him get to her.
It didn't matter that he was trying to be good to her now, after all he'd done (and not done) back then. Aaron was dead to her.
"Stop being nice to me when I'm mad at you," she said, pouting.
"Sorry, that's not happening. You only get niceness from me from now on."
Keeley sighed. Arguing was pointless. "Goodbye, Aaron. Thanks for checking up on me, I guess."
"It's the least I could do, since I'm the one who made you sad in the first place," he replied, sighing. "Travel safely tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything when you get back."
She wouldn't, but as usual, she thanked him and hung up. What a bizarre conversation.