Anything Less Than Everything (19 page)

M
y morning session was as riveting as
I expected it to be. Not that I was paying as much attention as I should have
been. Between the tears of the day before exhausting me, the few hours sleep
I’d gotten, and the fact that I’d only had one latte, well, it was a wonder I
stayed awake.

I sent Aaron
a good morning text, telling him to have fun and not get hurt. It felt a tiny
bit awkward, but he was my best friend, and I did want him to have fun and be
safe. Besides, it wasn’t his fault I was upset.

His reply
made me smile:
You too. Watch out for falling books.

During the
break I went in search of caffeine. It wasn’t until I took the first swig from
the can that I realized what I’d picked up: Dr. Pepper. Aaron was everywhere,
and yet his absence was overwhelming. I shook my head at how fickle I was
being. I wanted him here, I wanted to hide. I wanted to hear his voice, I
wanted the space and safety of silence. This was not who I wanted to be, but it
was so hard. Harder even than when Spencer had broken up with me, when I
learned he was cheating. Then I could be angry and had an excuse to wallow. Now
I had brought everything upon myself. I was the one who had changed the rules
in the middle of the game.

And probably
the worst part was that I had no one to talk to about this since my best
friend, the person in whom I confided everything, was the central player in all
of this.

But there was
Marcie. I’d kept my phone turned off all weekend, not willing to share my time
with anyone but Aaron. When I powered it back up upon arriving at the hotel,
I’d found several text messages, all from her and Jill. Jill wasn’t someone I
could trust to really hear what I had to say on this topic, but Marcie had
reached out from the beginning, and maybe I owed it to her to reach back.

“Hi!” she
said when she answered. My sessions were over for the day, so I had plenty of
time to talk. “How’s the conference?”

“It’s okay.
Well, not awful, anyway. What’s going on down there?”

“Nothing.
You’re missing nothing,” she replied.

“Okay,” she
continued after a brief pause, “I asked the obligatory conference question,
since that is why you’re there. Now I want the real scoop. How was the
weekend?”

This was it.
Where I made it all real by saying it out loud. “It was good. Incredible really,
but way too short.” I paused, took a deep breath. “Hey, Marc? I need to talk
about something, but I don’t really need advice or feedback or anything. I just
need to say some things. Out loud.”

“About?” She
sounded confused.

“Aaron.”

“Oh. Okay,”
she said slowly. “Go ahead. I won’t comment.”

I took a deep
breath and summoned my courage. “I love him. I mean, I’m
in
love with
him.”

She clapped.
“I know! I’m glad you finally figured that out! Oops! I wasn’t supposed to
comment. Sorry.”

“What do you
mean you know?” I’d only realized my feelings for him a week ago, and I’d only
seen her for a couple of hours since then.

“I mean that
everyone around you could see how you felt about him. It was all over your face
every time you talked about him or to him. It’s been the first time since I’ve
known you that you looked happy. At first I thought you were just not going to
talk about it, but then I realized that you
really didn’t know
. I didn’t
even know that was possible, but you didn’t. I was hoping it would become clear
to you on this trip.”

            Huh.
But if Marcie knew how I felt about Aaron, did that mean that...? No, he
couldn’t possibly. If he realized it, it would have come up at some point.
Things would have been more awkward.

“You don’t
sound real happy about it, though,” she continued.

I sighed.
“Just because I love him doesn’t mean he loves me.” I told her about the
weekend, about those electric moments, about him holding me before he left and
not really knowing why I was upset. “And it hurts because I want so much just
to be able to be his friend and not have these feelings, but it’s hard.”

“Can I
comment now?” she asked.

“You’ve been
commenting the whole time.”

“Whatever. I
think you should tell him. Take a risk.”

“I can’t do
that! I...I can’t risk something that big.”

“What?
Embarrassing yourself?”

“Losing him.”

“If you lose
him over that, then you weren’t as good of friends as you thought.”

“Maybe
someday. But I can’t yet. It’s too new.”

“I get that,”
she said, “but I don’t think you’ll ever really move on until you do.

My call
waiting clicked then, and I knew without looking that it was Aaron. “Go,”
Marcie said. “You need to talk to him, even if you don’t tell him what you
feel.” I said goodbye and clicked over to the other line.

“You’re
early,” I said in greeting. As I said it his first call from football camp
entered my mind. “You’re not hurt, are you?” I couldn’t keep the concern out of
my voice.

“I’m fine.
Coach wrapped a little early because it was so hot.” His voice was gentle,
sensitive to my worry.

“Oh, well,
hi.”

I could sense
him smiling. “Hi. I’m sorry I missed you at lunch. How was your day?”

“Boring. You
and Marcie are the only two people I’ve talked to all day. Well, I told the
barista how I wanted my latte, but that hardly counts. Yours?”

“Pretty good.
We had more drills and lectures than actual hitting. That comes tomorrow. But
it was good to be back on the field. I’ve missed it.”

He told me
about his practices in detail, about which of his teammates were showing
improvement, which plays he was most excited about. I told him about my
sessions, about the eccentric presenter wearing a too short skirt and running
shoes with pencils stuck behind both ears and pairs of glasses both on her face
and perched on her head.

“That makes
Coach Greer’s random practice outfits seem almost stylish,” he said.

“Yeah, it was
bad, but possibly the most interesting part of the day.”

“Maybe I
should have just brought you back to school with me, saved you from the
misery.” He was teasing, knowing I’d be equally as bored there, but there was a
note of seriousness in his voice.

“Maybe next
time,” I said.

“Yeah. Hey, I
hate to let you go so soon, especially since you’re all alone, but I have to be
in the film room in fifteen minutes. I just wanted to make sure I got to hear your
voice today.”

“It’s okay. I
should probably go eat something. I kind of forgot to do that today.”

“Are you
serious? Brooke!”

“What?” I
said. “Some of us don’t have to eat nine times a day to be satisfied.”

“Whatever,”
he said, laughing. “Be careful, though. The city is pretty safe, but I don’t
like the idea of you wandering around out there by yourself.”

“I’ll be
fine. I’ll text you when I get back though.”

“Good. Have
fun. Eat something for me.”

We hung up,
and I felt better than I had in the last thirty-six hours. Maybe it was sharing
with Marcie, or maybe the distance between Aaron and me was allowing me to
breathe some.

I found a
mostly deserted sports bar type place just down from the hotel. It felt good to
be out of that building, to get some fresh air. And I was hungrier than I
realized, apparently, because I ate a salad and chicken sandwich and dessert.
Guess I took Aaron’s request to heart. Or maybe I was just trying to avoid the
TVs tuned to myriad sports channels, all of which seemed to be covering
Michigan. How could I possibly get over Aaron if I couldn’t avoid his image?
Especially when his image was too gorgeous to want to avoid.

I left the
restaurant and looked around for something else to kill time. Next door was a fancy
stationery shop, one of my weaknesses, so I ducked inside to look around. I
smiled at some women who were obviously English teachers also in town for the
conference. I browsed the fancy journals, daring one to catch my eye. I’d been
neglecting my writing, hadn’t really written anything since that poem a few
weeks back, and thought maybe a pretty place to write would inspire me.

I chose one
with a green and white trellis pattern. It was spiral bound, my favorite, and
the pages were lined on the front and plain on the back. Perfect.

I checked the
time as I waited for the elevator to take me back to my room. Nine o’clock.
Surely Aaron would be back. I sent him a text as soon as I put my purchases
down.
Back safely. No novel incidents.

He replied
just a minute later:
Good. Headed to bed now. Exhausted, but wanted to make
sure you got back okay. I miss you. Sweet dreams.

Those two
words, “sweet dreams,” were what he’d been telling me all summer, since the
beginning, and they gave me hope that maybe things could be normal between us
after all, that I could find a way to make this work.

I
could describe the next two days,
but “See Above” would probably suffice. It wasn’t awful--I did learn a few
strategies that I thought would be useful--but it was very much more of the
same. My nightly talks with Aaron, though short, were the only real variety.

I packed my
suitcase the night before I left so everything would be ready. My flight was
not scheduled to leave until the late afternoon, but I thought I’d spend some
time at one of the art museums in the city.

I didn’t even
bother to set an alarm, but I woke up at six o’clock anyway. Not that I’d
really slept. The night before when I talked to Aaron he had seemed really
distant, distracted. More than once I had had to repeat myself. That was not
like him; he was the best listener I knew. I’d asked him what was wrong, but
he’d brushed it off, said he was just tired. I was worried about him, though.
This was a big year for him in terms of his future, and being a captain brought
even more responsibilities. He had always done okay with pressure, from what I
could tell, but this was uncharted territory. I mean, even though practice had
only started a few days earlier, he had already become a popular topic on ESPN.
I hoped he’d be okay.

I asked him
if he was drinking enough water. Michigan was having a record heat-wave, and he
was outside in pads for several hours a day. “Yes, Mom,” he’d answered, but he
was teasing, not annoyed.

What worried
me most, though was how sentimental he got right before we said goodnight. We’d
gone through that “well, I should probably go” and then kept talking routine a
couple of times, neither of us quite ready to hang up. But when my phone beeped
a warning that it was about to die, he’d spoken with urgency. “You know you’re
my best friend, right Brooke?”

“I know.”
Something about the way he said it made me expect bad news to follow. But it
didn’t.

Instead he’d
said, “Good. I just want to make sure I never take that for granted.”

My phone
beeped one last warning, and died before I had to chance to respond.

I spent the
rest of the night thinking about those words, about the words he didn’t say
before we were cut off. What would he have said next? What should I have said?
There was a sadness there, or resignation, or...I wasn’t quite sure.

What I did
know was that school was starting soon for both of us. He’d be practicing most
of the week, traveling at least some weekends. I was teaching two courses I’d
never taught before, meaning many hours in prep, and I’d agreed to continue
working and teaching at Dwell. Was he saying goodbye? He’d promised me just
days earlier that we were past that possibility, but maybe now that he was back
at school, he’d realized how impossible a long distance friendship was. I’d
already resolved to let him go in one respect; I couldn’t bear to do it again.

Since it was
obvious I wouldn’t be sleeping any more, I got up and showered, letting the hot
water stream over my muscles, sore from lack of use and a fitful night.

Even with
taking my time, I was still ready before seven.
At least there won’t be a
line for coffee
, I thought.

I walked to
the elevator, waited for it to reach my floor, got in, pushed the button for
the lobby. All of this groggily, on auto-pilot. Then I stepped off the elevator
and headed toward the coffee shop.

That’s when I
saw him.

H
e was sitting in an armchair outside
the lobby coffee shop, bent forward, elbows on his knees. He looked gorgeously
rumpled, his hair obviously combed with fingers, his face unshaven.

The sight of
him jerked me awake, and now fully aware, I walked toward him with slow,
measured, hesitant steps.

He stood when
our eyes met, waiting for me. That half smile--my smile--was there, if smaller
than usual. I noticed how tired he looked, like he’d slept even less than I
had.

“What are you
doing here?” I asked.

“I got you a
latte,” he said, not answering my question. “Double caramel, no whip, right?”
His voice was soft, shy.

“Thanks,” I
said, taking the cup. He was quiet for several moments before finally speaking.

“I had to
talk to you.”

“Okay...,” I
said. “Couldn’t you call, though?” A thought entered my mind. “Did something
happen? Is--”

“Everyone’s
fine,” he interrupted. “I just...I had to see you.”

I didn’t know
what to feel. I was nervous, especially considering our conversation cut short
from the night before. He must have left shortly after, driven all night. But
he’d driven all night
to see me
.

“Can we get
out of here?” he asked as he looked around the lobby beginning to fill with
people. I nodded and followed him out the doors into the just-waking city.

Neither of us
said anything as we walked. I had no idea where we were heading, and wasn’t
sure he did, either. We entered a park right on Lake Michigan, sat down on a
bench overlooking the water, still silent.

He gazed out
over the water, one arm draped casually over the back of the bench, the other
on the seat between us, lost in his thoughts. I waited for him to speak,
knowing he would when he was ready, but I felt the need to do something, to be
there for him like he’d had to be there for me so many times. I touched his
hand, to try to bring his attention to me. He flinched, but didn’t draw his
hand away. Instead knitting his fingers with mine, stroking the back of my hand
with his thumb.

“I wasn’t
completely truthful with you the other day.” His words drew my eyes to him,
away from our hands. His eyes were still trained on the water. “On the hill.”

I waited for
him to continue, to explain.

He turned to
me then, looked into my eyes with piercing intensity. And softness. I almost
didn’t hear him start talking again, so intrigued was I by the paradox of his
gaze.

“That spot,
it was where I went to figure things out. There are ghosts of conversations
there that I never spoke aloud to anyone. Feelings felt there that I never
shared with anyone.

“It wasn’t
about the view, or about the landscape,” he said as he looked back out over the
water. My eyes went there, too, to try to see what he saw in that moment.
“There’s a part of me there, a part of me that no one else knows. And I’m okay
with that, because there are some parts of me that I kind of like to keep to
myself, you know?”

I nodded. I
did know, but until now I didn’t realize that that was okay.

“But I always
thought--hoped--that one day I’d find someone who I not only wanted to know
everything about, but who I would want to know everything about me.

“And that’s
where I was less than truthful with you.” He took a deep breath. “It’s not that
I decided only to show someone my spot if they were really special; it’s that I
decided to not bring anyone there unless I was in love with her.”

My heart
stopped. Did he just...? My eyes shot to him, to his already on me, to those
clear blue eyes, even bluer against the sky. They pleaded with me to
understand, to respond.

“I--I love
you, Brooke.” he said softly. Then, with more conviction, “I love you. I think
I have since that first night we talked on the swing at your house. I tried not
to fall for you, because I’m terrified of making a mistake and losing you as my
best friend. And of how crazy it is, with the distance and everything. I almost
told you how I felt so many times this past week, always talking myself out of
it, telling myself it was the right thing to do. But then I left you, and it
got so much harder. I haven’t slept all week, I--I can’t stop thinking about
you…”

I cut him
off, gently laying one finger on his lips to stop the rush of words. I couldn’t
believe the words I was hearing, every thought and fear I’d had, he’d had, as
well. He stopped, his eyes expectant as he waited for my reaction.

“It was you,”
I said. “The man I designed for myself years ago, before I had ever heard your
name or seen your face. You are the everything I promised to wait for.”

And then I
said the words I told myself I would never say aloud. “And I love you, too.”

I was staring
so intently into his eyes that the rest of his face was out of focus, but I
could see the initial surprise transform into joy.  

He cupped my
face in his hand, bringing me to him, and his lips brushed mine, soft, sweet
caresses that bloomed into more. I have heard people say that “time stood
still,” and laughed at the cliché, but in those moments (okay, minutes...many
minutes) it really did. The sounds of the city disappeared, the landscape
blurred. It was just us, and in those kisses, innocent, yet passionate, we each
expressed every emotion we felt for the other, all without words.

And just like
that, we were a we. A thousand emotions and thoughts were scurrying in my mind,
tripping over each other, knocking each other down. My heart was beating too
fast, my breathing irregular. But still, in spite of all that, there was a
calmness in my spirit.
Aaron kissed me. Aaron loves me
.

When our lips
finally parted, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to him, resting his
chin on the top of my head. We stayed that way for awhile. No words were
needed--we were beyond that.

“I can’t
believe you drove all night to see me,” I said.  We’d walked down to the edge
of water, hands twined together. More than once, Aaron pulled me to the side
and we kissed. Each time we’d look at each other afterwards smiling, like we
still couldn’t believe what was happening.

And I
couldn’t.

“Is your
coach going to be mad?”

“Probably,”
he said. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

“But you have
to go back...”

“Yeah. If I
make it back by tonight’s film session he might only make me run for the next
month instead of the next year. But today is a rest day, so no workouts, just
meetings. I sent him a text before I left last night--this morning. I told him
I had to take care of something, that I didn’t want to let the team down but
that some things were just more important and I couldn’t give my full attention
to football until I did.” He looked at me then, telling me he loved me with his
eyes. I melted.

“So what
happens now?” I asked. Less than three hours after beginning our relationship,
we would be going in separate directions, with no chances to see each other
again in the near future.

“I don’t
know,” he said. “I guess it will be like it was before, but not.” He was right,
and other than the fact that I would miss him--his eyes, his smile, his kiss--I
somehow knew we’d be okay with that. I mean, we’d fallen in love that way, so
it followed that we could stay in love that way. It was unconventional, but
hadn’t we always been? And the irony was not lost on me: so often I had worried
that our friendship would not endure the distance--I’d thought about it just
the night before--but I had no doubts that our romance would be fine. What a
difference an I love you can make.

The goodbye
at the airport was long, but not long enough, with each of us taking just one
more kiss or hug to last us.

As I headed
down the hallway to security, I turned to get one last look at my Aaron. He
smiled, lifted his hand in a small wave. And I felt like crying I missed him so
much already, but my heart held too much happiness for that.