Aaron (6 page)

“Mom, no, we won’t be home tonight, I’m sorry. Can I stop by tomorrow evening?” Aaron heard his mother say. Anthony had already left the table, as Allen sat next to Aaron, looking deep in thought. “Yes, well, we’re going out to dinner… yes, Aaron too. We’re celebrating his graduation from high school. No, Mom, I won’t wear the red shirt.” Allen stifled a laugh as his mother rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mom, we’ll meet you at Clancy’s at seven. Okay, Mom. Love you too.” She hung up the phone and sighed. Dealing with his grandparents always stressed Aaron out,

Aaron

 

which in turn stressed out his mother. Aaron had heard his grandmother berating his mother once for coddling Aaron. If they just treated him like a normal kid, he would be normal. They really had no clue. So his mother got it from all sides, all because he couldn’t function on his own. No wonder they wanted to ship him off.

“
M
OM, I’m so glad that you and Dad could make it on such short notice,” Aaron’s mother told his grandparents as they followed the host to their table at the restaurant. He was surprised when Allen grabbed Anthony by the back of the shirt and all but threw him into the seat next to his grandmother before taking the one next to Aaron. His parents sat opposite his brothers, leaving him at the opposite side of the table from his grandparents. Aaron could have kissed his brothers; they had put a human barrier between him and his grandparents. Whenever he saw them, his grandmother tried to hug him or his grandfather would pat him on the back. Neither of them were around Aaron enough to really understand why they could no longer touch their grandson.

After they’d been seated for a few minutes, Aaron quietly studying his menu, Michelle began to make small talk with her parents while John and Anthony talked about school. They were trying to keep the focus off Aaron, which he appreciated almost desperately. While they murmured in polite conversation, their server approached the table between Aaron and Allen, startling the older boy.

“Hi, my name is Juliette, and I’ll be your server this evening,” she said in a falsely bright tone.

Allen and his father, who were seated on either side of Aaron, noticed how his breathing seemed to accelerate at the mention of the server’s name; they both leaned forward in their chairs, looking anxious. Aaron scooted his chair toward his father in an effort to get away from her.

“What can I get you folks to drink?” the server asked, popping her gum as she spoke, her pen poised to document their beverage preferences. Probably in her late twenties, the girl wasn’t bad to look at with her frizzy red hair and freckles, but her high nasal voice was grating on the nerves.

“I’ll have a Coke,” John said. Each member of the family listed off a litany of liquid refreshments in turn, from Michelle’s iced tea to the grandparents’ wine. The two younger brothers both ordered 7Up, and then Allen ordered a Coke for his older brother, who flashed him a grateful look. Aaron hated to talk, especially to strangers who would just stare at him, causing him to stutter and repeat himself until he sounded like the freak he was.
Jesus, it was a fucking Thursday. Why was the restaurant so crowded?

“I’ve heard their lasagna here is excellent,” John piped up to keep the conversation going, once the server had gone to fill the drink order. Sweat trickled down the side of Aaron’s face as he sat in the claustrophobic restaurant surrounded by strangers. He could feel them on all sides, pressing against his space. It was hard to breathe.

“Yes, that does sound good,” their grandfather said as he looked over the menu one final time before closing it and setting it next to his plate. He sat stiffly in his chair, all but swallowed by the gray cardigan that helped to warm him in the air-conditioned restaurant. Thin and nearly bald, he pushed his thick oval glasses back up on the bridge of his nose as he addressed his eldest grandson. “So, Aaron, have you decided on your major at college?”

“Aaron isn’t going to college yet,” Allen said, his voice full of trepidation for his brother. Aaron sat staring absently at his silverware on the table, his breathing fast and labored. Aaron was in the beginning stages of a panic attack, and he worried what that would mean for him in the middle of a crowded restaurant. His mother’s face swam before his eyes as he looked up at her helplessly.

“Thank you, son, but I was asking your brother,” his grandfather said pointedly, and looked to Aaron to provide a more detailed answer.

Anyone that knew Aaron knew that Grandpa was going to be disappointed on that score. Without raising his eyes, Aaron simply mumbled, “Thinking about it,” to his water glass.

“Grandpa, guess what!” Anthony said, successfully grabbing his grandfather’s attention as he launched into a play-by-play of his last soccer game. The goal he scored, the perfect pass he set up for the next goal, and the head pass that helped to win the game. His eyes danced, and Aaron vaguely remembered that same excitement talking about some of his more challenging debates, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. He envied Anthony’s glow as he watched from the corner of his eye, but silently thanked his brother as the conversation kept both of Aaron’s grandparents busy and their attention away from him.

The server came back and distributed the drinks. When she set Aaron’s Coke in front of him, he grabbed it, discarded the straw, and drank every bit of it without breathing before returning the glass to the table. The sugar and caffeine felt like drugs in his system as the carbonation calmed his stomach. He closed his eyes as the server stared at him. After a moment, John started the process of ordering their entrees, much as he had with the drinks, deflecting the attention from Aaron, whose hands had started to shake under the table.

“I’ll have the linguini Alfredo,” John said with a forced smile for the server. The strain of keeping up the happy family front started to show in the lines around his eyes. Michelle ordered ravioli, as did her mother. Aaron’s grandfather decided to go with the lasagna, as he had talked about before things began to get tense. Anthony, always a lover of spaghetti, chose to have it with meatballs. Things were going well as Allen ordered manicotti, and then it was Aaron’s turn. In a very quiet voice, he asked his plate for chicken nuggets and french fries.

“I’m sorry, sir, only children twelve and under can order from the kids' menu,” she said in a mildly sardonic tone, and likely expected Aaron to pick something else. As the table went completely silent, like the calm before the storm, Aaron balled his hands into tight fists and rested his forehead on them. His breathing became even more labored, and before anyone, including the shocked server could speak, Anthony jumped in.

“Ma’am, I’m twelve. Please bring me chicken nuggets.” Aaron raised his head at his brother’s voice to see that the server was staring at him. Then, almost as an afterthought, Anthony added, “Could you bring my brother the spaghetti and meatballs?” That brought the server back to herself, and she looked away from the horror of Aaron’s ruined face.

“I… I can do that,” she said, still a little shaken by Aaron’s behavior. Falling back into her learned routine, she started to collect the menus. Everyone passed theirs to Allen, and he handed them to the server. One menu slipped from her grasp and hit Aaron’s shoulder before she could grab it. The apology died in her throat as Aaron jerked away from her so violently that he knocked over his water glass. He stood up with heartclenching haste and backed away from the table.

“Aaron,” Allen said quickly, getting his brother’s attention. “Let’s go outside for a few minutes.” Aaron looked around wildly for a moment and saw his mother’s sorrow.
Please don’t send me away. Please. I can’t.
He faced his grandparents’ shock before he locked eyes with Allen. Nodding furiously, he let Allen lead him from the table and carefully around the inanely curious inhabitants of the other tables until they reached the lobby area. Not bothering to return the good-bye from the host, they practically ran for the door.

The door slammed open as Aaron rushed through it, nearly sprinting toward the edge of the parking lot. As he reached it, he stopped, putting his hands on his knees. Aaron’s face had a light sheen of sweat as he gulped down air. Allen could do nothing but stand next to him, looking helpless and being very careful not to touch his brother.

“Aaron, look at me, man…. Breathe….” Allen began to take slow deep breaths. “It’s okay, Aaron, just breathe.” His deep breathing was exaggerated, trying to get his brother to match his pace.

An older couple came out of the restaurant, watching them warily as they shuffled past the boys on the way to their car. The man, who must have been in his seventies, used his cane heavily as his wife held his other arm. Glancing back at Aaron again as she helped her husband into their seafoam-colored sedan, the woman turned her heavily lined face to Allen and furrowed her brow. When Allen didn’t say anything, she walked slowly around the car and got behind the wheel. As she pulled out of the space, she narrowly missed the minivan parked in the row behind her. The two boys watched as they rolled slowly, merging into traffic as they left the lot.

Finally, Allen looked back at Aaron, who was breathing deeply and slowly with his eyes on his brother. It helped him to have something to focus on, something to keep him anchored in the present when his mind wanted to travel back to that dark place and keep him there until he screamed.

“Thank you,” Aaron whispered, and closed his eyes against the dying afternoon light as the darkness in his mind started to recede and his lungs slowly started to work again. Each breath came easier than the last, though his face and neck still felt hot and tight. The long-sleeved polo clung to his back in the heat and tension of the near breakdown. Aaron continued to take slow, deep breaths for a few more minutes until he felt calmer. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at Allen and saw his own sadness reflected in his brother’s face.

“Aaron, you’re my brother and I love you. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, man.” Allen moved to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but then remembered himself.

“Love you too, kid, even though it’s me who is supposed to be looking out for you,” Aaron said with real remorse. It
was
his job to look out for his brothers, not the other way around. It killed him that they had to treat him like some kind of invalid because he couldn’t function. One menu hitting his shoulder and he lost control of everything. He couldn’t live like that. He just… he couldn’t. Something had to change. He just didn’t know what he could do to make it happen.

“You always watched out for me and Anthony,” Allen said, looking his brother in the eye. “We can do the watching for a while.” Aaron closed his eyes again briefly. Then after a moment, he nodded.

“Are you okay to go back inside? I’m sure Mom is wondering where we are.” Allen asked and then glanced around, probably to see if their mother had followed them outside.

Aaron let his brother lead him back to the table like a naughty child. When Aaron sat down in his place, he found that the mess from his spill was gone, and he had a fresh Coke. The food had been brought out while they were outside, so he grabbed his napkin and rested it in his lap as Allen sat down beside him. If he could just get through eating without any more problems, he might be able to salvage the rest of the evening for his mother. By the look on his father’s face, that cause was lost.

“Thanks, Anthony,” Aaron said quietly as he picked up his first piece of chicken. Miraculously, he found that he had an appetite. The last thing he wanted right then was to cause his mother more worry, so he ate as Anthony smiled back at him through a mouth full of spaghetti.

The rest of the meal crawled along, subdued but uneventful. Aaron noticed that when the server returned to the table, she made sure to do so near their grandparents, as far as she could from him. The tightness in his chest dissolved after nearly strangling him all night, and he watched the conversation with a small measure of interest. His mother smiled at him when she noticed that Aaron had cleaned his plate for the first time in six months.

“
A
ARON, your father and I have been talking,” Michelle said quietly as she and Aaron sat alone at the kitchen table a few days later. Aaron’s head jerked up and he stared at her, his heart thundering in his chest. They’d finally come to it. His mother was sick of taking care of him, and they were going to send him away. He couldn’t take that. He couldn’t. He’d die there. His mother must have seen something in his face, because she reached for one of his hands, which he jerked under the table, banging his fingers on the edge in his haste to get away from her. The kitchen closed in around him as he rocked almost imperceptibly in his chair.

“Please, honey, it’s okay. We just think maybe you should start thinking about college.” She pulled her hand back slowly, the sting of rejection still in her eyes as she watched him.

College?
The antianxiety meds were making him feel a little slow.
Wait, if they wanted him to start thinking about college, maybe they were giving him another chance.
Aaron studied his mother and saw no real signs of deception. She didn’t avoid his eyes, she wasn’t wringing her hands, she had none of the outward indicators that he’d practiced watching for during debate.