Anything Less Than Everything (8 page)

I
ignored my phone when it rang that
night. No way was I going to let him breakup with me again. Breaking up wasn’t
really the right word, of course, but I didn’t know what else to call it. He
called again thirty minutes later, and though it took everything within me to
not answer it, I didn’t. True to form, he texted me instead of leaving a
voicemail.
Hey Brooke. Give me a call when you get in.

Yeah, right.
There was no way I was calling him. Every wound that had healed in the past
months ripped open, every bit of self-doubt I’d felt reemerged.

I wanted to
be mad, not sad, but my heart was broken. Tears were coursing down my face by
the time he sent the next text:
Brooke? Not like you not to text back.
Everything okay? Please call me.

The next one
came at midnight: S
eriously worried. PLEASE call me!!!!!

I caved, but
I told myself it was only because he wouldn’t stop until I did.
Yeah, right.

“Hey,” he
answered. “Is everything okay? I usually hear from you before now.”

“I was busy,”
I said flatly.

“Oh. Well,
how was your day?”

“What do you
want, Aaron?” Last night he was all “see you around”; now he was calling to
chat?

He sounded
truly confused. “Um, to talk to you? Like I do every night?”

“That’s not
what you said you wanted last night. I wish you’d decide. In case I didn’t
mention it, I don’t plan my life around others anymore.” My voice caught on the
last words. Aaron was the reason I no longer lived the life others wanted me
to. He helped me see my own strength. And now I’d lost it, through no fault of my
own.

“What the
hell are you talking about, Brooke?” He sounded equal parts angry and hurt.
Good. I felt the same way. “I never said--”

“Check your
sent messages,” I told him. “Maybe that will refresh your memory.” I ended the
call with that, then powered down my phone before he called back and I lost all
resolve.

I didn’t
really sleep that night, and it showed when I got to work the next morning.

“Brooke,
honey? What in the world is wrong with you?” I normally liked Caryn’s candor,
but I was not in the mood to discuss the previous day with anyone.

“Please,” I
said, “not now.”

“Was it the
ex-boyfriend?” she asked, following me into the back room and ignoring my
request as I locked my purse in the desk drawer. I shook my head. “The new
guy?” I didn’t respond, which she took as the yes it was. “What’d he do?” I
sighed and told her the whole sordid tale, starting with the pictures Marcie
showed me.

“Did he have
an excuse?” she asked.

“He acted
like he had no idea what I was talking about. Like he didn’t remember sending
those texts.”

“Okay,
Brooke, you’re losing me.”

“I don’t
know,” I said. “Maybe he was trashed and doesn’t remember doing it.” Except
Aaron never got trashed. Caryn gave me a look, no doubt seeing the wavering in
my eyes. I shook my head to clear it; after what had happened, I didn’t trust
anything I thought I knew about him.

“Brooke,
honey, I know you’re hurt. I know you’re mad. But something isn’t adding up
here. Now you know I have no problem with throwing a man out on his you know
what, and you know I have had reservations about whatever you and this Aaron
have going on, but I think you need to talk to him.” I shot her a look that
could freeze beer.

“Are you on
his side?” I asked, furious.

“No, I’m not.
But I’m trying to be on the side of reason. Brooke, if everything you’ve told
me about this boy is true, then I cannot imagine him doing this to you.”

“Yeah, well,
I couldn’t imagine it either. But it happened.”

“Talk to him.
That’s your task for the day.” I arched an eyebrow at her, not following. “I’m
your boss, and that is what I am telling you to do today. Now you’re more than
welcome to use the phone back here, but you’d probably be more comfortable in
the privacy of your apartment.”

“You’re
serious...”

“As a heart
attack. Now go. Don’t come back until there’s a resolution to this conflict. I
don’t care what you decide, but figure it all out.” I still couldn’t decide if
she was serious, but I dug my keys from my purse and started walking towards
the front door anyway, checking back over my shoulder several times to see if
she was going to start laughing and call me back. She didn’t.

When I got
back inside my apartment, I finally powered my phone back up. As expected, I
had several texts and voicemails from Aaron. What did surprise me (maybe), was
that he didn’t get tired or bored and give up during the night. The last text
was from just a couple of hours earlier. It read:
I will NOT lose you over
this. Please call me.

I did. None
of the messages made excuses or tried to make light of my feelings. Something
about that made me want to at least hear his side of things. But I also knew
that no matter what, I had to prepare myself for the fact that Aaron now had
another girl in his life, one who probably wouldn’t appreciate her boyfriend
spending hours on the phone with another woman.

He picked up
before the first ring finished. “Hey,” he said, his voice husky. Had he been
crying?

“Hi,” I
answered. I wasn’t sure where to go next, if I should ask him to explain
himself or make him do all the talking. He jumped in before I had the chance to
decide.

“I didn’t
send those texts, Brooke.”

“That
probably wasn’t you in the pictures, either, was it?” It was a quick jab, one
that no doubt caught him off guard. But I had to say it before I started to
believe him about the texts.

“No, that was
me. Though I didn’t even know they were being taken. Not that it matters.”

“So who sent
them, then?” I asked. The thing was, the more I thought about it, the less
likely it seemed Aaron sent them. Not just because he wouldn’t do that, but
because the grammar and tone didn’t resemble his other texts.

“I think the
girl in the pictures did. If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll try to prove it to
you. Then I’ll try to explain myself and you can decide what happens next. But
please hear me out.” I didn’t say anything, which he took as agreement.

“I’m going to
do something that will make me look worse than the person you think I am right
now, but I have to prove this to you. Hang on. I have to get a number from my
contacts.”

I heard him
clicking buttons on his phone, then him dialing from the land line on speaker
phone.

GIRL: Hey,
you! I was wondering when you’d call.

AARON: Someone sent text messages,
including a picture of us, from my phone the other night. Any idea who that might
have been?

GIRL: Well. So much for pleasantries.
I guess that was me. So what?

AARON: So what? My best friend
thought those were from me.

GIRL: Oops. I saw the name Brooke and
assumed it was an old girlfriend. I was just marking my territory. (Giggles.
Gag.)

AARON: You may have ruined the best
thing in my life. You had no right to take my phone, no right to butt into my
life like that.

GIRL: What? So you’d choose a friend
over something more with me?

AARON: Every. Single. Time. I never
said or did anything to make you think I was interested. I tolerated you
clinging to me all night because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but I
really don’t care anymore.

GIRL: How
dare you--

I heard a
click, and the line went dead.

“You still
there, Brooke?”

“Yes,” I said
softly.

“I would
never,
never
let you go for some trashed sorority chick.”

“I’m your
best friend?”

He sighed.
“Yeah, you are. Did you really think I sent those messages? I thought you knew
me better than that.” He didn’t sound mad or accusing, but hurt definitely
laced his words.

“I do, I
mean--it’s just everyone keeps telling me how I can’t possibly know you as well
as I think I do, that I’m going to get hurt. And then Marcie found the pictures
online right before I found those texts...”

“And it all
just came together,” he said flatly.

“I’m sorry,
Aaron. I’m so, so sorry.” That’s when the tears started.

“Shhh. It’s
okay, Brooke. Don’t be sorry.
I’m s
orry. Shhh.” He let me cry for
awhile. Not for the first time, I wished he was with me, that he could hug me
and tell me everything would be okay. But that led me to thoughts of “more than
friends,” thoughts that partially got me in this mess in the first place.

“I had no
right to be jealous. Even if it had been what it looked like, you’re entitled
to date whom you want.”

“Why in the
world would you be jealous, Brooke?”

“Because I
don’t want to lose you,” I said, my voice just above a whisper.

“You
wouldn’t. I wish you would have fought more for us.” Those words stung. But I
knew why I hadn’t.

“I’ve been
left before; I wasn’t going to let it happen again.” I snapped my mouth shut at
those words. I did not mean to say that--it was too much.

“But from
what you’ve told me, you didn’t fight for that relationship, either.”

I could feel
the anger in me rising. “Oh, so you wish I would have? Just like everyone else,
you think I should have gone back to that--”

“No!” he cut
me off. “But the truth is you had no idea about any of that the day Spencer
dumped you, and yet you never asked for any type of an explanation. You just
walked away from four years together.”

I had. I’d
walked out of the restaurant that night and never looked back. Even finding out
about the cheating had been a matter of coincidence. I guess I didn’t really
want to know the reason Spencer was dumping me, preferring ignorance to hearing
him tell me of my shortcomings. As for not trying to win him back, well, you
can’t be rejected if you never try.

“Okay, I know
that crossed the line. But, Brooke, you can’t just run away from me every time
I make you mad. I think I’ve earned more than that.”

“But other
girls...” I left off, afraid to say the words out loud.

“Can either
accept you in my life or find someone else. You’re as non-negotiable as
football or my sisters. Did you not hear what I said to her a few minutes ago?
You are the best thing in my life. Period. I’m not leaving you.”

“I should
have given you more credit,” I said sheepishly.

“Yes, you
should have. But, it’s over now, okay? Just please don’t shut me out again.
Even if you’re mad at me, at least answer the phone and tell me where to go. I
was so worried that something had happened to you.”

“I won’t. I
promise.” I was exhausted from not sleeping and crying and the emotion of the
last few days, as was Aaron. We hung up after assurances from both of us that
things were okay between us. I called Caryn and told her she was right and
thanked her, then called Marcie and told her she was wrong, but that I was over
being upset with her.

And then I tried to get the butterflies in my stomach that
kept appearing at the mere mention of Aaron’s name to stop fluttering.

I
was up to my elbows in bathroom
cleanser when I heard the familiar
knock, knock, knock...
pause
...knock.
knock
. Mom. I rolled my eyes and rinsed my hands before hoisting myself up
from the tile floor and going out to receive this unexpected guest.

She was
midway into her second series of knocks when I opened the door. It took her a
moment to right herself, and when she looked at me I thought the shock would
make her stumble once again. “Oh! Brooke!” she said as she surveyed my
disheveled state. “I should have called, obviously.” The last line was not an
apology; it was a condemnation. My mother’s trademark.

“No, it’s
fine, Mom,” I said, though, really, it was anything but. “I was just cleaning
the bathrooms. Come on in.” I held the door open as she entered. She clutched
her purse to her like some sort of security blanket, and eyed the room
suspiciously. “So,” I said, trying to play nice, “what brings you here?”
Besides
looking for things to pick on me about.

“I was just
out running some errands and thought I’d stop by,” she said, attempting a
smile. “You haven’t been by to see us in forever--” Great, make this my fault.
“Or called,” she finished. “So I thought I’d come to you. Is that not okay?”

Playing nice
was going to be harder than I thought. But I could try. “Of course it is, Mom,”
I said, sighing.

“Well,” she
said after an awkward pause. “Things are really coming together here, aren’t
they? All you need are some new drapes, maybe some different pillows...”

“They
are
new,”
I said. “Caryn, my boss at Dwell helped me put it all together.” Leave it to my
mother to find a way to insult me and Caryn--someone she’d never even laid eyes
on--with one statement. “I like them,” I finished.

“Well of
course you do,” she replied. She tried to make it sound like a recovery, but I
heard the statement underneath her words:
someone without taste
would
like
them
. She started back up again, completely unfazed by the look I shot her.
“I don’t know why you’re working at that place, anyway.”

Here we go
, I thought. “I like working there.”
I hoped it would quiet her. I should have known better.

“But it’s
retail
,
dear. She said the word like it tasted bad in her mouth. “You’re college
educated. You’re better than retail.” I could not believe my mother was being
so judgmental. She who single-handedly kept most shops in business.

“It’s just a
summer job, Mom, not a career change,” I replied. “It keeps me busy, gives me
some extra money.”

“Well, I just
think there are better activities to keep you entertained,” she said. “Things
that engage your mind.”

I didn’t try
to hide the eye roll this time. “It does engage my mind. I get a chance to be
creative in a way that’s different from teaching. It’s new, so it’s
challenging. It’s
fun
.”

“But you
don’t have to have a job to have fun,” she went on. “Fun is for after work.
Like, dating perhaps.”

“And whom
would you like me to date, Mom? Spencer?”

“Well what is
wrong with that?” she said. “You two always made such a cute couple.”

“He broke up
with me, Mother. His choice.” My voice rose in anger. “I wish you’d just come
off it.” She looked like I’d slapped her, so shocked was the expression on her
face. I never talked to her that way. Maybe I should have a long time ago.

“But perhaps
it’s not too late to change his mind. Call him up. Ask him to meet you for
coffee. Win him back. There’s still time to save face.”

And then I saw
it: the reason my mother had been so insistent I get back together with Spencer
had nothing to do with my feelings for him, the hurt I’d felt. It didn’t even
have anything to do with his feelings for me. It had everything to do with her
embarrassment at having a daughter who had been dumped.

“I don’t want
to get back together with him. Was I hurt when it ended? Devastated. But it was
the best thing he ever did for me. He was so wrong for me. Bad for me, even.”

“Maybe y’all
just needed a break.” She obviously was not listening to a word I said. I stood
up and headed back towards the bathroom. I was done.

“Ask Jill
about Spencer’s idea of a break,” I said. “And lock the door when you leave.”

I didn’t call
Aaron after my mother left. I wanted to, but I felt bad always running to him
when my life hit a speed bump. I didn’t know how much drama he could take,
especially after the week we’d had. Instead I met Marcie at the gym as
promised. I ran five miles on the treadmill, exorcising some of my anger towards
my mom with every footfall. Marcie kept looking over at me questioningly, but
didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer. I had promised to tell her things like
this, but I couldn’t at the moment. I wasn’t sure she’d get it.

After a
shower and lunch, I went to Dwell, even though I wasn’t scheduled to work for a
few days. Caryn looked up at the ringing bells on the door signaling my
entrance.

“Hi, Brooke,”
she said. She smiled, but sounded slightly confused. “You’re not working today,
are you?”

“Not until
Tuesday,” I said. “I just needed to get out of the house for awhile.” She
looked at me, concern in her eyes. I hadn’t come to unload on her, but I
couldn’t help it.

I exhaled.
“My mother,” I said. “She came for a visit and tried to plan my life while she
was there.”

Caryn didn’t
flinch; she just nodded. “Mothers can be that way.”

“Do you have
kids?” I couldn’t remember her saying anything about them, and there weren’t
any telling pictures of them at her desk in the back room.

“No,” she
said. “I think God knew I’d be the same way as your mother, so He just made it
easier on everyone by not blessing me with any.” I tried to smile in a
sympathetic way, but Caryn just laughed. “I really just didn’t want any,
Brooke. You don’t have to look sad for me.” Had someone else said that, I would
probably be embarrassed, but with Caryn her jokes put me at ease. “So,” she
said. “What’s mama doing that’s so awful?”

“She’s trying
to make me get back together with my cheating ex-boyfriend.” There. It was out.
I hadn’t told many people about that. Jill knew, of course, and Aaron, but only
because they witnessed the revelation. Even Marcie only knew the scantest of
details.

“She wants
her daughter dating someone who hurt her?” she asked slowly, trying to
comprehend.

“Yep. She
doesn’t actually know about the cheating, but I’ve made it clear that I’m happy
to be rid of him. She doesn’t care, though. He fit into her perfect plan for my
life. I guess she’s trying to keep all the puzzle pieces together.”

“Well, she’s
obviously lost sight of the picture on the front of the box, though, hasn’t
she? I’m sure she wants you to be happy, Brooke, but it sounds like she’s
trying to fit together pieces that just don’t go.”

“I don’t
know,” I said. “I feel like I’ve spent most of my life trying to be the person
she wanted me to be. It’s no wonder I changed for Spencer, too. I even changed
for my girlfriends. I think I’ve been whomever everybody who entered my life
wanted me to be--”

I cut off my
words suddenly before I said what I knew was coming next.

“Except?” It
was though Caryn could read my mind. I gave her a look that I hoped showed
innocent confusion, but she didn’t buy it. “Oh, come on, Brooke. You were about
to say something. Out with it.”

I gave in.
“Except for Aaron,” I said.

“I’m glad you
two worked things out,” she said. “But you said you were just friends...”

“We are. He’s
my best friend.” I’d felt he was becoming that, even before he’d said it. Now
that he had, I was becoming more comfortable with saying out loud. “He’d never
try to change me,” I continued. “If anything, he does everything to try to make
me be more of myself.”

“Sounds to me
like he should be the one you’re dating,” she said with a knowing smile.

“It’s not
like that,” I said.

“Well, then
you need to find a guy just like him. Any guy you’re with should love
you
,
not who he can make you into, or even who you’re willing to become for him.”
Aaron probably had all fifty-six qualities I wanted, and some I didn’t even
know were important to me. But, I was pretty sure he was one in a million.
No--one of a kind. The image of us on the swing popped into my head, and I
quickly swatted it away. I was not going
there
. Not now. After all that
had happened in the past week, I was feeling sort of vulnerable, a little
reserved with what I was willing to share.

“I wouldn’t
worry about it,” she said, a kind smile on her face. “You’ll find someone.
Probably when you aren’t even looking for him.” I nodded, but I wasn’t really
looking for him at the moment; it was everyone else who was.

“But I am glad
you came by,” she said, changing the subject. “I have an idea I want to run by
you.”

“Sure,” I
said, grateful to have the attention off me and my problems. “What do you have
in mind?”

“Okay,” she
began, pushing some paperwork aside. “I’ve always thought it would be fun to
offer some classes here at the store on decorating. You know, how to make a
centerpiece, creating a color palette, those sorts of things.” She paused,
obviously waiting for my reaction.

“That sounds
neat,” I said. “I’d go to one.”

“You think?”
she asked. I nodded, so she went on. “Well, then I came up with the idea the
other day, if the first one goes well, to offer a series. My vision is to take
one of the room displays and rework it as a fresh slate. Design it as an
everyday space, something anyone could live with.”

That sounded
easy. Create a relatively boring, safe room that wouldn’t intimidate anyone...
“And then,” she cut into my thoughts, “change up the accessories for each
season or holiday. We’d keep the same basic pieces, same paint, but switch out
the tablescape, the pillows, the accessories for every season.”

“I like
that,” I said. And I really did. “It’s so practical. Most people aren’t going
to change the bones of a room for seasonal decor. That plan would really help
them see how they could apply the changing decor to their own space.” And give
them a built-in shopping list they could fulfill at Dwell.

“Exactly,”
she said, snapping her fingers for emphasis. “I’ve never done it, though,
because I’ve never had someone who
could
do it. But now that you’re
here...”

“Wait a
second,” I said, backing up from the counter a bit. “You want
me
to
teach a class.
Here
? On
decorating
?”

“Yes, that’s
exactly what I want. You know your stuff, Brooke. And you’re a teacher, so you
know how to prepare and how to present information. You’re perfect for this. Of
course,” she continued, “I would increase your pay. And pay you on a contract
basis after the summer ends. You could work a day here or there changing the
room over.”

My mind was
moving in a hundred different directions. Did I want to be more creative? Have
others admire my work? Make more money? Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t? But this was
supposed to be a part time summer job, one with a definite end point. Still, it
sounded fun. And so without over-analyzing, without asking anyone’s permission,
without hesitating, I answered her.

“Okay,” I
said. “I’ll do it.”