Anything Less Than Everything (13 page)

I knew that
with one word from me Aaron would be on the road headed South to me. I had
never had someone I could depend on so fully, but as much as I wanted to see
him, I didn’t want it to be like this, with Spencer somehow still tangled up in
it.

Neither Aaron
nor I had said much for a few minutes. These silences were not abnormal for us,
nor were they weird, but Aaron, always perceptive, picked up on something in
this one. “Are you okay, Brooke?”

I was still
trembling a bit, still scared that Spencer would somehow find where I lived and
come back for me. A glance at the clock told me it was about the time Aaron’s
and my conversations usually ended, which did nothing to allay my fears. “Just
don’t hang up, yet, okay?” I said.

“I’m here all
night if you need me.”

I didn’t need
him all night, as it turned out, but we did talk for another hour or so. Aaron
steered the conversation to himself--something he rarely did--which helped get
my mind off the night’s events. By the time we said our good nights and hung
up, I felt much calmer, and, shockingly, fell asleep with ease.

I
slept much later than usual the next
day, probably because though I had fallen asleep okay, nightmares woke me up
more than once. I couldn’t remember anything specific, but Spencer was in them,
that sick smile leering down over me. One look in the mirror confirmed that it
had been a rough night. Black mascara ringed my eyes, my face was still red and
blotchy from crying. I wasn’t sure how to calm the fear pounding in my chest or
how to reconcile that with the warmth I felt when thinking of Aaron’s offer to
drive 500 miles to defend me. Too many emotions for so early in the morning.
But I knew I could fix my outward appearance, so I started there.

From there my
day was wide open. I decided to do some planning for the upcoming school year.
I convinced myself that it was a productive way to spend the day, but really,
it gave me an excuse to stay inside behind the safety of the locked door. I
couldn’t explain my fear because I didn’t really think he would do anything to
me, but I couldn’t get past it either. After a few hours my eyes were tired and
my neck hurt from crouching over my books, so I decided to hit the gym. Since I
made it there without incident, I thought I’d venture into the grocery store.
All clear.

It had been a
productive day, maybe too much so, because even after putting away the
groceries and prepping some of the food for later, it was nowhere near dinner
time. Bored, I opened my laptop and logged onto BEsocial. The first message in
my queue ambushed me, bringing hot tears to my eyes.

            YOU
ARE SUCH A SLUT. BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE.

I had deleted
Spencer from my circles once we broke up, but obviously he still had access to
my main page. I was so taken aback by the attack that I almost didn’t see the
conversation that followed in a series of comments.

            AARON:
Leave her alone already.

            SPENCER:
OOOHHH ARE YOU THE OBJECT OF HER SLUTTINESS?? BETTER WATCH OUT.

            AARON:
Seriously, man, stop it. You gave her up. Sorry if you are regretting that
choice, but she is over you. Quit trying to hurt her.

            SPENCER:
OR WHAT? YOU GONNA COME HURT ME? WHO ARE YOU? SOM FB PLAYER WANNABE?

            AARON:
smh. You are such a jerk. Brooke didn’t deserve to be treated the way she was,
and now that it’s over, she deserves to be left alone.

            SPENCER:
YEAH RIGHT. THAT SLUT OWES ME FOR FOUR YEARS OF NOTHING. NO WONDER I HAD TO GO
FIND SOMEONE ELSE.

            SPENCER:
SLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUTSLUT SLUTSLUT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Below that
last comment was another, separate message, this one from Aaron:

Brooke,
I’m sorry I responded to that idiot. All I did was give him a chance to insult
you more. Not what I intended. I’m really sorry.

Above all
that craziness the private message alert was flashing. Nine new messages, all
from friends of mine from the Spencer days, all of whom had quietly continued
friendships with him after the breakup.

Each message
was similar in its apology, expressing how they had believed his side of the
story (whatever that was; I had no idea what he had told them), but were no
longer sure why. That they couldn’t believe he would say those things and that
they knew they weren’t true. I appreciated them all, but they did little to
ease the pain.

Tired of it
all, I snapped my laptop shut and lay on my bed looking up at the ceiling.
Would I never be rid of this parasite? I had finally gotten my family off my
case about him, and
then
he decides to force his way back into my life.
I needed to call Aaron because I knew he’d be upset at what had happened and
worried he’d hurt me, but I just wasn’t ready to delve back into it. Instead I
found my notebook and a pen and began writing, but not on the awkward poem.
This time I just wrote. When I stopped I had a list of words that somehow had
formed themselves into a new poem:

                        reinvented

                        recreated

                        from
nothing

                        something--

                        no,
everything

                        smart,
strong, sure

                        ready
to succeed

                        in
life

                        in
love

                        but

                        never

                        ever

                        compromising

The words had
flowed easily, without me having to think about them. According to my
professors from college, that’s when the best writing happened. And since these
words wrote themselves without my help, I had no choice really but to believe
them.

Dinner time
had long since passed, and even though I’d regained some of my confidence, my
appetite had not come with it. It was time to call Aaron. I knew he wouldn’t
call--he wouldn’t want to push me, but wait for me to be ready to talk.

Not even a
full ring finished before he picked up the phone.

“Hey,
Brooke.” His voice sounded sad, wounded. Unsure. It made me want to cry all
over again because I had never heard any of this in Aaron’s voice before.
Laughter, excitement, even anger, but never sadness.

I couldn’t
stand the way he sounded, so I jumped right into what I needed to tell him.
“I’m not mad at you.”

He didn’t
answer right away, no doubt surprised by my greeting. “You’re not?”

“Of course
not.”

“But I egged
him on, gave him a place to keep hurling insults at you.”(
# 9: Willing to
admit when he is wrong--even though he wasn’t.
)

“Aaron. He
left the first message, and I have no doubt he would have left many more if he
hadn’t been commenting instead.”

“I saw that
this morning and knew how much it would hurt you when you saw it. But there was
nothing I could do to protect you from it.”

“But you
defended me (
#29
). No one has ever done that for me, especially not
publicly. I was actually honored that you cared enough to say something.”

“Of course I
care, Brooke. More than I know how to tell you over the phone.” My heart
screeched to a stop and then was immediately overtaken by that damn herd of
butterflies. I concentrated on slowing my breathing and shoving those emerging
feelings down somewhere deep. I needed to say something before it got weird.
Our silences were famously not uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to change that,
to let on that his words had affected me. But he spoke again before I had a
chance to decide what to say. “I wish I was down there and could take all the
hurt from these past months away. I wouldn’t know where to start though.”

“A hug might
help,” I ventured.

Aaron laughed
his soft, gentle laugh. “I could handle that. I’m an excellent hugger, you
know.”
I bet
, I thought.

The mood had
lightened, but I needed to tell him something before we moved on completely.
“Aaron?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“You have.
Taken the hurt away, I mean.”

“But what
about last night? And today? I’m not there to stop it.” I could hear the
frustration in his voice.

“But you’re
there to fix it. Always. Without question and without condition.” I pushed on
before I lost my nerve or he stopped me. “I’m not sure how or why we became
friends, but I honestly don’t know where I’d be right now if it weren’t for
you, for this. And I may sound like a stupid sap for saying it, but I need you,
Aaron, I need our friendship.” I waited for him to reply, hoping he wouldn’t
hang up or, worse, allow the conversation to end and then never call again.

“I was
willing to drive through the night to kick that sorry excuse for a man’s ass
last night, Brooke. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Do
you really trust that I won’t just wake up one day and decide I don’t need you
as my friend?”

“Yes,” I said
a little too defensively. Memories of my reaction to the fake texts popped into
my head. That night I’d been so quick to accept what I thought was him saying
goodbye. He’d assured me he wouldn’t do that, and I did believe him, but
something about the fact that we only talked, never hung out or whatever made
our friendship seem temporary in a way I couldn’t explain. It would be so easy
for it to fade away if we let it. It’s not like we’d be running into each other
around town or anything.

“Okay, so I
guess I do fear our lives eventually getting in the way,” I said. “Right now
it’s summer, and our time is pretty much our own, but when school starts back
next month...”

“Things will
look a little different,” he finished for me. “But that’s life. We will just
have to work to keep our friendship going. That’s not a bad thing.”

“No, I guess
not. I really cannot believe I’m telling you all this,” I said. “I don’t think
I’ve had a State of the Friendship talk with Marcie or anyone before.”

“Maybe those
weren’t as important for you to hold onto,” Aaron said quietly. He was right. I
enjoyed spending time with my girl friends, hanging out, gossiping, but though
I might miss them for awhile, allowing those relationships to die would cost me
little.

Still, there
was something different with Aaron. Something more than just him--us--being
important. But allowing myself to go there could mean losing him altogether,
and that was not something I was willing to risk.

“Okay,” I
said finally, ready to move on before I said too much, “now that we’ve established
that we are pretty important to one another, can we talk about something not so
serious?”

“Absolutely.”
There was relief in his voice. This was the first time we had really discussed
our status, and doing so forced each of us to make ourselves very vulnerable.
And while I was glad we’d had the conversation, I was ready to move on for now.

“So,” he
said, “if you were plan your last meal, what would it be?” These questions were
much safer territory, so I launched into a description of food that sounded so
good I regained my appetite.

W
hat could be the polar opposite of
Wednesday and Thursday? Whatever that would be, that’s what Friday was. I woke
up early, met Marcie at the gym, did some research for the next Dwell class I
was scheduled to teach, and came home to the most exciting message on my
answering machine possible. Mr. Reynolds, my principal, had asked I call him
concerning an opportunity he hoped I would consider. Teachers don’t really get
promotions, so I had no clue what he had in mind. But curiosity (and a desire
to stay in his good graces) led me to call him back immediately.

“Ah, Miss.
Burrows,” he said in his trademark super chipper voice. “I’m so glad you got
back to me. I have something I want to run by you.” This was exactly the way
Caryn had started the conversation when she asked me to teach at Dwell.

“What’s
that?” I asked.

“The school
district has found some money and it needs to spend it.”

“That’s a
good thing, right?” I replied.

“For the most
part, yes. But this money came with some strings attached, and it can only be
spent for teacher development.” He paused, and I think I was supposed to say
something, but I couldn’t think of what it would be. Unfazed, we went on. “Now
don’t tell your colleagues this, but I find you to be one of our most promising
young teachers, and I think using this money on you would be a wise
investment.” Wow. Reynolds was always super pleasant, but he had never
complimented me like that before. I felt the sudden urge to go do lesson plans
or something.

“That’s very
nice of you to say, sir. So what is it you want me to do?” He was a smart man;
after that compliment I’d say yes to almost anything.

“There’s a
National conference for English teachers in a couple of weeks I’d like you to attend.
All expenses paid, of course. You’ll go and learn all you can to use in your
own classroom and, hopefully, do some sessions with the other faculty to share
that knowledge. How do you feel about teaching adults?” I silently laughed at
this, at how full circle my summer was becoming.

“Piece of
cake,” I said.”So where exactly is it I’m going?”

“The lovely
city of Milwaukee. Ever been there?”

Oh. My.
Goodness.

I couldn’t
wait for the night to tell Aaron all this, so I decided to leave him a
voicemail telling him I had exciting news to share. When he answered instead of
the recording, it took me by surprise. “I thought you were working,” I said.

“I am,
technically, but it’s raining. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just
had a question.”

“Shoot,” he
said.

“How far is
it from Milwaukee to your house? Your parents’ house I mean.”

“Bout an
hour. Whhhyyy?” He drew that last word out in an overly curious voice.

“Are you
planning to go home before school starts?”

“Yeah, I want
to. Where is this going, Brooke?” I was too excited to draw it out any longer,
and so I told him about my call from Mr. Reynolds and my plans to be thiiis
close to him in a matter of days. “You’re kidding, right?” Excitement filled
Aaron’s voice.

“Nope. A week
from Sunday. So I thought that maybe, if you happened to be visiting that week,
we could meet up and have dinner or something. If you want to,” I added for
effect.

“Uh, yeah!”
he exclaimed. “But what if I go one better. What if you fly in a few days
before
your conference. You can stay at my parents’ house, so the school shouldn’t
care. I’ll have you back in Milwaukee in time for your first session.”

“Seriously?”
I asked.

“Of course.
My mom loves playing hostess. She’s always trying to get me to bring friends
home.”
But probably not friends who are girls
, I thought.

“I don’t want
to impose...”

“You won’t. I
promise.”

“Okay...,” I
said, still hesitant. “When were you thinking?”

“Well, I have
to work Tuesday, but that’s it up here. Why don’t I leave after work that day,
spend Wednesday with the family, and you fly in sometime Thursday?”

“Hang on,” I
said, flipping open my laptop. “There aren’t many Nashville to Milwaukee
flights that day. Uh...okay, here’s one that arrives at 10:45 in the morning.
Would that work?”

“Perfect,” he
said. “That will get us back in time for lunch. What time does it depart?”

The answer to
that was “too early,” but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead I said,
“doesn’t matter. I’d rather spend the day hanging out with you than waiting for
a plane to take off.” And that was true. “So that works for you?” I asked.

“Yep.”

I clicked a
few keys on the computer. “Booked,” I said.

“Really?”

“Really.” And
as I said it, I let the words sink in: after two months of not seeing him, I
would see Aaron in less than a week.

He was
excited, too, and we both talked non-stop for several more minutes, only
hanging up when the rain stopped there and it became time for work here. When I
caught sight of myself in the mirror as I was getting ready to head into Dwell,
I saw a silly smile that I could not wipe off my face.

Caryn had no
problem with me needing a few days off. I’m sure she realized that my “real”
job trumped my part time summer gig.

“So you know
what’s going to happen, right?” she asked.

“Noooo...,”I
replied. “What?”

“You’re going
to go spend the weekend with Mr. Wonderful and come back even more convinced
that no one else is good enough for you.”

“I will not!”
I said, defensively. But my cheeks were growing redder by the second, and I
feared she was right.

“Of course you
will. And it’s probably true that no one else is good enough, which is why, as
I’ve said before, you need to just date this boy.”

“Caryn, I’ve
told you, we’re--”

“Not like
that. Yes, I know, I know. But maybe you should be. He’s obviously very special
to you, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same. And I Googled him: cutie pie on
top of all of that.”

“Caryn! I
cannot believe you Googled Aaron. Okay, I can believe it.” I shook my head at
her, but I was laughing. “So, you wanted to see what he looked like?”

“No, I wanted
to find a flaw in him.”

“What?” Why
in the world would someone go looking for negative information about another
person? My emotions vacillated between anger that she would do that and fear of
what she found. My previous experience with friends Googling Aaron had not gone
well.

“Well, honey,
it’s just that no one is perfect, but you seem to think this young man is. Your
feelings for him, platonic though they may be, make it hard for you to see his
bad points.”

She was
right, and I had thought about this. Surely Aaron had issues beyond talking in
his sleep or whatever else Brandon had mentioned on the phone that night, but I
kind of liked him perfect, even if it was an illusion.

“I’m just
afraid,” Caryn continued, “that one day you’re going to discover something
wrong with him and be terribly disappointed.”

Good point.
I’d never thought about it that way. He knew my flaws, I think, but I’d never
really asked him about his, probably because I just didn’t want to know.
Ignorance is bliss and all that.

“So what did
you find?” I asked.

“Nothing. He
really does seem as perfect as you think he is. And that means one of two
things,” I looked up at her. “Either he is, as you think, perfect, in which
case you should be dating that boy and making him fall in love with you, or
he’s hiding something big.”

“And which do
you think it is?” I asked. I was nervous for her answer. Aaron hiding something
had never occurred to me. I mean, I didn’t think I knew
everything
about
him, but that’s not the same as hiding.

“Option one,”
she said, sighing. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, and everything I read
about him matches up with what you have said about him. He seems like a
genuinely good person. A person so good he would call your sister’s boyfriend
and have him wait for you in the parking lot when you got off work and call
your boss to ask her to keep an eye out for your lousy ex-boyfriend.”

My eyes
drifted out the door, and sure enough, there was Dave’s car parked right next
to mine. Warmth filled my heart at this gesture--from both Aaron and Dave--and
I smiled, embarrassed.

“So,” Caryn
said, “have a great trip. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winked at me as
she moved toward the back room.

A message on
my BEsocial page that night said only “
six days
.” The next morning I
added one to his page that said, “
five days
.” Friends kept commenting,
asking what was happening in however many days, but we ignored them.