Anything Less Than Everything (11 page)

“Great
fireworks,” he said. “How were they down there?”

“Haven’t
started yet,” I replied.

“Ah, I guess
not. So how did today go? At the store?” Of course Aaron would be wondering
about this. He was always so aware of what was going on in my life, so quick to
ask about it. I relayed in detail the day’s events, from the demonstration, to
the great feedback I’d gotten, to the increase in sales. “I’m not at all
surprised,” he said. “But I’m still really proud of you.”
#26
. I watched
Carson and some of his friends stumble past and wondered how in the world I
would ever be able to give any guy a chance when there was no way he’d measure
up to Aaron.

“There’s one
more thing,” I said.

“What’s
that?” Aaron asked.

“My mom came
to the class. And asked me to go to lunch with her tomorrow.”

“Wow,” he
said. “So what do you think that will be like?” Aaron understood. He knew how
my parents were, and was always on my side when it came to them. I shied away
from sharing my family drama with anyone else, one because I didn’t like to
complain, and two, because I was afraid it might get back to them somehow. But
I trusted Aaron, and knew that my words--and my feelings--were safe with him.

“I think it
will be okay,” I said. “She was all smiles and even a little weepy at the store
today. I guess it can’t get much worse, so I don’t really have anything to
lose.” And I didn’t. Not really, anyway. Worst case, my mom would give me ten
reasons to go back to Spencer over salads and croissants. I’d heard it all
before, so once more wouldn’t hurt. But she was my mom, and I felt obligated to
keep giving her chances.

“I’ll be
interested to hear all about it to--,” he stopped short. “Sunday night,” he
said flatly. “Man, that’s going to suck. I guess I’ve taken our talks for
granted. I mean, it’s just part of my day.”

“Don’t I know
it,” I said. I didn’t really know what talking to me each night meant to him,
though I could hear the happiness in his voice when we spoke, and it was most
often he who called me. But I knew what it meant to me, that it was a constant
I held tight to amidst the chaos in my mind and heart.

Or at least
it was at first. Now I was feeling much more centered, like I was me again, but
I wasn’t yet confident enough to feel like that could continue without Aaron.
And, really, I was okay with that. It may seem somewhat codependent, but it was
nice knowing I had someone I could always rely on, a person who’d drop
everything to help me at two am. I’d never told him that, but I felt he somehow
knew it anyway. Instead of confessing all this, though, I said, “What is it
you’re going to be doing all weekend again?”

“I have no
idea,” he answered. “It’s a closely guarded secret each year, and the seniors
never share what happens.”

“That sounds
scary,” I said. “Do you at least know where you’re going? I mean, what if
something happens? How will anyone know where to start looking for you? Or how
to contact you?”

“Coach has a
cell phone--the only one on the trip,” he said gently, obviously sensing the
worry in my voice. “And his secretary has the details in case anything happens
to us or someone needs to get in contact with us. But nothing has ever
happened. I know that much.”

“Do you even
know where you’re going?” I asked again.

“Somewhere
out in the woods, based on the list of things we were told to bring. But I have
no idea where exactly. It could be at a park a few miles away or somewhere in
another state.”

I hesitated,
not sure if I wanted to say the words that were resting on the tip of my
tongue. After a moment’s pause I thought,
What the heck
? Aaron and I had
always been open with each other, holding nothing back. “I’ll miss you,” I said
finally, softly. The words hung in the air for a few seconds, and I feared I
might have scared him, moved too close.

He sighed,
not a sigh of exasperation, but...was it relief? “I’ll miss you, too, Brooke. A
lot.”

The first
booms of the city’s firework show began, and I knew in just a few seconds we
wouldn’t be able to hear each other. “Be careful, okay?” I said. “And call me
when you get back.”

“The second
we get in. Promise. And Brooke?” he didn’t wait for my reply. “Next time I
think we should watch the fireworks together. Sweet dreams.”

“S
o,” my mother said as she added a packet
of sweetener to her tea, “let’s talk.” Few conversations that begin with those
words end well. In fact, they were the very words Spencer had used when he
transitioned from pleasant dinner conversation to dumping me.

“Okay,” I
said. “What shall we talk about?” Bad move. I should have known better at this
point. I should have launched into a topic of conversation myself, distracted
her from whatever ulterior motive she had in asking me to lunch.

“Spencer’s
and your relationship.” Had I told Aaron only the night before that things
couldn’t get worse? I was wrong, obviously.

“Mother,
we’ve talked about this before. It’s over, and I’m glad. I have no--”

“I know,” she
interrupted me. “Jill told me what happened. What he did to you. And, honey,”
she looked directly at me, her eyes soft, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that he did
that to you, and I’m sorry that I kept pushing you to patch things up. I...I
didn’t know.”

“I know.”

“But, Brooke,
why didn’t you tell me? You know you can tell me these things, right?” The
truth was, I had never felt that comfortable talking to my mother about such
things. Boys were pretty much off limits in terms of accepted topics of
conversation. Jill was the one she raised to be boy crazy; I was supposed to be
responsible and together. Now, however, did not seem to be the time to bring
that up.

“Mom,” I
said, searching for an answer I knew she’d understand, “I was dumped on my
birthday only to find out my boyfriend proposed to the girl he was cheating on
me with the very next day. It’s not the kind of news one really wants to
broadcast, you know?”

“Well, I
certainly can understand that,” she said, nodding, “but I’m your mother. You
could have told me.”

“I wish it
hadn’t mattered,” I said softly.

“Hadn’t
mattered?” I could hear the confusion in her voice. “Of course what he did
mattered. I would never want my daughter dating someone who thought so little
of their commitment.”

“That’s not
what I mean. I mean, I wish the fact that I didn’t want to see Spencer anymore
was enough for you. I wish it didn’t take you finding out about the cheating to
side with me.” She set her glass down and slowly slid her finger around the
rim.

“You two just
seemed so perfect for one another,” she said, not really looking at me.

“Only because
I changed who I was to fit that role, not that it did much good.” I moved my
head until I caught her eye, made her look at me. “Mom, I wasn’t me when I was
with him. Was I devastated by the breakup? Of course. Did I hurt all over again
when I found out about the other girl? Definitely. But in hindsight, I changed
over the last few years, and I don’t like who I changed into.”

There. I had
finally told my mother what I had wanted to say for three months. I waited for
the earth to shift, for natural disasters to ensue. But all that happened was
that a tear slipped down my mother’s cheek.

“I just want
you to be happy,” she said. I thought Spencer made you happy.”

I sighed. “He
did, at first. But then he became a habit I didn’t know how to break, and it
wasn’t until he was gone that I realized I wanted to. But now...,” I trailed
off, searching for just the right words. “But now I feel like I’ve reclaimed my
self. The real me. And I’m happy.”

Mom dabbed at
her cheek and smiled at me. “Then I am, too.”

From there we
changed topics to work and what now appeared to be the series of classes I was
going to teach. We ate. We laughed. We quit while we were ahead. I did not expect
one lunch to completely fix all the problems my mother and I had, nor did I
think it would make us as close as Marcie and her mom were. Our relationship
just wasn’t like that. But I finally felt the pressure to go back to who I had
become dissipate. I wasn’t convinced that Mom was completely on my side, but at
least now I knew she wasn’t on Spencer’s.

Out of habit,
I looked at my phone before turning out the light and going to sleep both
Friday and Saturday nights. I knew there wouldn’t be a text, and wasn’t even
looking for one, but still, I’d been disappointed both times. Waiting until I
was pretty sure he was asleep, I’d sent him a text later July 4th so it would
be waiting for him when he woke up. “
Have fun
,” it’d said. “
Be
careful and don’t forget me while you’re gone
.” I found his reply when I
woke up, hours after his cell phone had been confiscated and the bus had left
the parking lot: “
I will. I will. Impossible. :)
”

Saturday
night I’d spent with some girl friends having dinner and catching the latest
chick flick. The company, the food and the movie were all great, but a couple
of times I did catch myself wondering what Aaron was doing. I was sure he was
having fun, probably fishing and playing ball and telling funny stories around
a campfire, things not so different from what I was doing, really.

But I missed
him. Lots. Perhaps this was a good thing, I’d reasoned. I mean, it’s not like
we could really talk to one another every day for the rest of our lives. That
wasn’t feasible, right? I didn’t like the answer to my own question.

My plans for
Sunday included the gym, laundry and reading a book I had anticipated coming
out for months. My sister, however, had other ideas.

“But you can
never have enough clothes,” Jill whined. She’d called right as I put the first
load in the washing machine, begging me to go shopping with her. “Please?” she
begged. “Pretty please? Pretty please with...”

“Okay, okay,
I’ll go!” I said before she could finish. And so I found myself at the mall
with my sister on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I went mostly because I knew she
wouldn’t give in until I did, but now on our second store, I had two shopping
bags, while she had none.

“Ooh!” she
said as we entered the “Trend Stop” section. “You
have
to try this on.”
The sundress with yellow and grey flowers was not something I would have picked
out, but I was tired of arguing with my sister and losing, so I took the dress,
handed her my bags, and made for the fitting room.

As soon as I
came out, I knew that she saw exactly what I did: it was perfect. The pleats at
the skirt created just enough fullness. The straps were not too skinny. The
neckline was low enough to be fashionable, but not so low as to make me
uncomfortable.

“But where
would I wear it?” I asked. I had a dozen sun dresses hanging in my closet, none
getting much use.

Jill rolled
her eyes. “Dinner, a party, even to the mall on a shopping trip with your
sister, especially if you dress it down with a jean jacket.” I looked at myself
again. I
did
love the color combination. And it
was
on sale.

Two hours
later my shopping bags had grown in number to five, including the yellow and
grey dress, a ruffled kelly green one, a few flowy tops, some new jewelry and
headbands and a pair of gold sandals I planned to take back once Jill was gone.
I shifted my bags to one hand and checked the time on my phone. 3:31. Aaron
could be back any minute. All he’d been told was that they’d be back “around
dinner or a little before,” though.

“How about a
quick mani pedi and then dinner?” Jill asked.

“What?” I
said. I’d been checking the volume on my phone, making sure it was turned up.

“Mani pedis.”
She repeated. “Let’s get them.” I glanced at my phone again. “Good grief,
Brooke. It’s not like it will take all night. I promise I’ll have you home in
time to talk to your precious
A-won
.” I glared at her.

“He’s just
supposed to call when he gets back in town, to let me know he made it in okay.”

“Fine, you
can still answer from the nail salon. Let’s go.”

But Aaron
didn’t call. Not while my nails, now gleaming with Cherry Punch polish, dried.
Not during our early dinner of guac and chips and fajita roll-ups. And not
while I found places in my closet for all the new clothes I’d bought. It was
8:14, an hour later where he was. I knew that Aaron would call as soon as he
got back, not just because he promised me, but because he just would. And so I
knew he wasn’t home yet. And that worried me.

A movie
channel was showing one of my favorite comedies, so I curled up on the couch to
watch it, but found myself glancing at the clock often. 9:06. 9:29. 10:05.
10:40. 11:12.

I thought at
first that the ringing was a part of my dream. It wasn’t until the fourth ring
that I woke up, barely, and felt around in the couch for my phone. The overhead
light was on, as was the TV, and my half empty bowl of popcorn was at my side.

“Hello?” I
said groggily.

“Hey,
Brooke.” Aaron’s voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“What time is
it?” I asked, trying to focus on the DVD player clock.

“Just after
three here. I’m sorry to wake you up, but we just got back--it’s a long
story--and I just wanted to let you know I’m here. I’ll explain everything
tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” I
said.

“Okay. Now go
back to sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Sweet dreams, Brooke.” I hung
up the phone and stretched my arms over my head. A glance at the clock
confirmed what Aaron said: 2:12 am. I must have fallen asleep waiting for him.
I placed the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, switched off the lights and TV
and headed to my bedroom to grab a few more hours of sleep.

I woke up
around eight, tired and sore from the late night. Coffee was waiting, its
caramel vanilla scent promising to wake me up. I poured a cup, added some
sweetener and cream to dilute the coffee taste, then wandered over to the
couch. I’d left my phone there the night before, so I hadn’t heard the text
come in an hour earlier.
Hey. I’m awake. Call me?
He picked up on the
second ring.

“Hey,” he
answered.

“Hey,” I
replied, stifling a yawn. I could almost feel him wince.

“I’m really
sorry about yesterday,” he said. “And I hated waking you up, but--”

I interrupted
him. “I’m glad you did. I was really worried.”

“I know,” he
answered quietly.

“What
happened?”

He sighed,
and I knew whatever had happened was a long story, one he was not excited about
retelling. “We went to a state park about four hours away,” he began. “The plan
was to leave around eleven, stop and eat about twelve thirty, and be home by
five. But about an hour in, in the middle of nowhere, one of the vans blew a
tire. I mean, it was so bad it messed up the wheel.” He paused, and I just knew
more calamity was coming. “And since we were in the middle of nowhere...”

“There were
no mechanics?” I finished for him.

“Right. And
no cell service. So, we all piled out of the van, and a couple of the coaches
took the other one to find help. We all just sat around on the pavement in
ninety degree heat and waited. None of the service stations were open, being a
Sunday, so the two coaches eventually just found a car rental place and rented
another van.”

“That sounds
like an adventure,” I said. Actually, it sounded awful, and I’m sure it made
for a really long day. But Aaron would never say that. He rarely complained,
not even to me.

“Something
like that,” he said. “By the time we got on the road again it was way past
lunch, and we were pretty much starving, and hot, so we stopped for what was
supposed to be a quick bite, but with twenty football players and ten coaches,
well, it took awhile. And there was a wreck on the interstate that backed it up
for miles. And coach had left all our stuff and his keys locked in the office,
so he had to track down campus security to let us in. I tried to borrow his
phone when I realized just how late we were going to be, but his battery had
died.”

“Think maybe
he’ll rethink his cell policy for next year?”

“Doubtful.
He’ll probably claim it was part of his plan, you know to build problem solving
skills or something.” We both laughed, and after a moment Aaron said, “Thanks
for understanding.”

“Why wouldn’t
I?” I asked.

I could sense
him shrugging. “I don’t know,” he said, “but a lot of people wouldn’t.”

“I guess I’m
not like a lot of people.”

I’d meant it
to be funny, but his answer was serious, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I know.” My heart beat faster, keeping time with the butterflies now soaring
through me. Where was
that
coming from? I pushed the feeling down
quickly before it could take root.

“So,” he
said. “How was lunch with your mother?”

“Really good,
actually. Surprisingly,” I said.

“Yeah? So she’s
over Spencer?”

“I think so.
Funny that it took her so much longer than it took me.”

“Does that
mean she’s out of your love life now?” he asked. There was a hesitancy in his
voice I now recognized well: Aaron was going into protective mode.