Anything Less Than Everything (7 page)

“Exactly,” I
said. “And his grammar. Don’t even get me started. Don’t you think if you
wanted to impress an English teacher you would try to use correct English?”

“I know I
do,” Aaron said. I detected a smile in his voice, but instead of it aggravating
me this time, it made me smile myself. “So this guy is definitely out of
contention based on I.Q., but what else about him was so bad?”

I thought for
a second. There were so many things about Carson that were wrong, but what was
the most important? “He has no ambition,” I said finally. “He has a job, but
not a career. He’s twenty-five and has no idea what he wants to be when he
grows up, and isn’t doing anything to try to figure it out.” That I knew Aaron
would understand. He worked every day on something that would help him make it
to the NFL. He gave up summer breaks for camps and the weight room, celebrated
Christmas on the team bus instead of with his family. I knew he hated that last
part the most. But as he had pointed out, a few years of sacrificing could
enable him to provide his parents and sisters with everything they could ever
need or want.

“It sounds
like this guy is nowhere near good enough for my Brooke,” he said. “But I doubt
anyone is,” he added, a bit more quietly. I was glad the distance hid the blush
I felt creeping across my face. “But, Brooke? Would it have mattered?”

“What do you
mean?”

“If Jill had
secretly set you up with the most amazing guy in the world, would you have
written him off, too, based on the circumstances?”

He had me
there.

“Okay, so I
probably was a little too critical of Carson,” I admitted. “But we really
didn’t have anything in common. At all.”

“And that’s
all that matters. I’m not trying to convince you to date him or anyone, I just
don’t want to see you reject everyone based on...prior experiences.” Aaron knew
me too well already. And in this regard, probably better than I knew myself.
“But do one thing for me,” he said.

“Of course,”
I replied.

“Promise me
that you’ll never settle for anything less than everything. Don’t compromise.”
He paused. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Sweet dreams.”

Hot showers
are a great way to wash away yucky evenings. After I had used every drop of
steaming water, I wrapped my hair in a towel and dressed in my comfiest
pajamas. I flopped across my bed and opened my laptop, navigating to BEsocial,
the networking site that lets you connect with friends online. I typed a new
headline:
Thinking about just being mad for a while since Aaron Davidson
finds it so funny, and I do so love to make him laugh
:)
.
I smiled thinking about the possible comments I would
receive from him in response.

A connection
request blinked at me from just above my headline. Carson. Of course. I clicked
“no,” and snapped the computer shut, rolling my eyes as I did so.

My mood was
much improved, but Aaron’s last words to me were bothering me. Maybe bothering
was not the right word. They…well, I couldn’t stop thinking about them.
Never
settle for anything less than everything. Don’t compromise.
I pulled the
list out of the box and smoothed it out in front of me. After knowing him for
all of one hour, and even without paying much attention, I could eliminate
Carson based on three items, not including the ones I told Aaron about.

Curiosity got
the best of me then. Even if I was being very liberal in my definitions,
Spencer met only nine of my criteria. Nine. Out of fifty-six. I shook my head
in disbelief and disgust. How in the world had I let myself fall for someone
who was so little of what I wanted? I must have been distracted by #46 –
is
a good kisser
and #21 –
Cares about his appearance- NOT A SLOB
.

Rarely was I
the first thing on Spencer’s mind in the morning (#55). He even forgot to pick
me up for class on more than one occasion. Now, I woke up every morning to a
text on my phone from Aaron:
Good morning!
And Aaron would never try to
change me (#47) the way Spencer had. Qualities I obviously found important in a
friend, I had failed to require from my boyfriend.

Jill was
right, though. Finding someone who lived up to my expectations would be
impossible.

I had
promised Aaron I wouldn’t compromise though, so I guessed I would just have to
remain single.

A
ccepting the position at Dwell was
proving to be a great decision. The work was interesting, but not overly
difficult, either physically or mentally. I was actually starting to wonder
what I would have done all summer without it.

I was
particularly appreciative of it the day after the Great Set Up. I was still
irritated at Jill, but creating centerpieces distracted me from my anger. There
was something very satisfying about taking disparate items and combining them
into a cohesive work. Once I was in the creating zone, nothing really bothered
me.

“I really
like that one.” I looked up to see Caryn standing beside the work table,
studying my work.

“You think?
I’m struggling with the height,” I said.

“No, it’s
perfect. Here, sit down and look,” she said motioning toward the chair on the
other side of the table. She was right. Once I looked at it from the right
perspective, I could see that the proportions were correct. So were the colors.
I’d mixed white hydrangeas tinged with green with artichokes, filling it out
with grasses.

“What about
the container?” I asked, indicating the aged brass bowl.

“It’s good,
Brooke. Quit doubting yourself. You really have a good eye for this stuff.” I
smiled at the compliment. In the several weeks I’d been working at Dwell, I’d
learned that Caryn was tough, but fair. She wasn’t one to gush, so when she complimented
you, it was a big deal.

I’d started
out learning the register, then moved to stocking shelves and merchandising end
caps. That had naturally led to me helping customers, as I was the one on the
floor when they had questions.

Caryn had two
other employees besides me: an older woman without much personality who did the
custom florals and a teenage guy who cleaned, brought out the heavy pieces for
customers, and stocked the high shelves. Needless to say, I had not become
close with either of them. Caryn, however, was quickly becoming someone I
considered a friend. I loved her no nonsense approach, how she always shot
straight with me.

Like now.

“You do that
a lot, don’t you?” Her question wasn’t meant to be prying, more of an
observation.

“What are you
talking about?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what she was referring to.

“You doubt
yourself. And not just here.” I sighed. That was two people whom I’d met in the
last month who saw right through me.

“I’m trying
not to, but, yes, I guess I do.”

“Why? You’re
smart, talented, beautiful, caring--why would you doubt yourself?”

Why did I? It
would be easy to blame Spencer for making me feel like I was never enough, but
it had started way before I met him. I’d always felt the need to live up to
everyone’s expectations for me, whether they be my parents, teachers or
friends. It was worse with Spencer, of course, but putting pressure on myself
to be perfect was nothing new.

Until
Spencer, though, I’d pretty much managed to be perfect. Well, at least as much
as human can be. I’d gotten stellar grades throughout school, had lots of
friends, and was in all the right circles. It wasn’t until I started dating
Spencer that my efforts were ever not good enough. After the honeymoon period
of our relationship wore off, I’d started going to the writing center for help
with papers that the tutors there assured me were already better than they
themselves could write. I agonized over what to wear, took way too long to
choose what to order for dinner, and had Spencer ever given me a choice in
which movie to see, I’m certain he’d have gone through an entire tub of popcorn
before I’d have decided.

And it wasn’t
until we broke up that I realized I’d been doing it. Pathetic.

I wasn’t as
bad about it now, but obviously my self doubt wasn’t completely a thing of the
past. Perhaps I’d been relying on others too much to validate me. Caryn did
that, as did Aaron, of course, but the issues with my mom and grandmother and
others were still nagging at me. I needed to let them go. And it was something
I’d have to do on my own. Eventually.

Caryn and I
both looked up at the sound of the bell over the door. Jill looked around, and
then, seeing me, headed toward the work station.

“Hey,” she
said. “Do you have a second?” She looked from me to Caryn.

“Go,” Caryn
said, touching my arm. “Take a break.”

I led Jill to
the office/break room at the back of the store and grabbed a bottle of water
from the small fridge there. I leaned against Caryn’s desk, arms crossed, but
didn’t say anything. She’d come to see me, so she could be the one to start.

She sighed
and then started in. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have tricked you into
meeting Carson.”
            “Why’d you do it? You didn’t really think I’d like him, did you?”
It was the first I’d spoken to Jill since the polite “yeses” and “no’s” of the
previous night.

Jill
shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think about that. But he’s a nice guy, and he’d
mentioned that he thought you were pretty…. But I’m sorry.”

I shook my
head. “So that’s all it takes? As long as a guy thinks a girl is pretty then
the relationship is charmed?”

“That’s not
what I meant,” Jill said defensively. “He was interested, but I knew you’d
never go out with him without a creative nudge.” I couldn’t help but laugh at
her description of her antics.

“Look, sis, I
appreciate your concern--I think--but I’m just not looking for a relationship
right now.”

“But it’s
been three months, Brooke. You can’t wallow forever.”

“I’m not
wallowing, and it’s not that I’m opposed to dating, or even falling in love again;
I’m just not actively pursuing it.” Now it was Jill’s turn to laugh. “If the
right guy shows up, then that’s great. But I know what I want now.”

“Let me
guess,” she said, “the list.”

“Yeah. I know
it might be unrealistic, but it’s at least a guide. Carson lacked too many
qualities for him to be worth my time. Even if he is a nice guy.”

“I get it,”
she said. “But what happens when you fall in love with someone who doesn’t live
up to your list?” Like Spencer? Yeah, that worked out well for me. She had a
point, though. Aaron had said the right guy didn’t have to be perfect, just
right. Maybe he could be right without having all fifty-six qualities, and
maybe I’d decide certain items on the list weren’t as necessary as my
eighteen-year-old self thought they were, but that’s a bridge I’d cross when I
got there.

“Just lay off
the matchmaking, okay?” I said.

“Okay,” she
replied, “but can I at least introduce you to potential dates?”

I rolled my
eyes, certain my sister, well meaning as she was, would never change.

“
H
ey,
Brooke, I’ve got a question for you,” Aaron said a couple of nights later. My
social calendar--and my apartment--was fuller than ever, but tonight I was
enjoying a night to myself.

Well, not
entirely to myself.

“Okay,
shoot,” I said. I never knew what he was going to say when he started this.
Sometimes these questions were silly, others serious.

“If you could
be any type of weather, which type would you be?”

“Seriously?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I thought for
a second. Often the more ridiculous his questions were the more difficult they
were to answer, but with each answer I could feel more of my old self—my real
self—coming back to the surface.

“Cloudy,” I
finally answered.

“Cloudy??”
his voice was incredulous.

“What? You
had something else in mind?”

“Well…yeah. I
thought you’d say sunny or mild with blue skies or something.”

“You
apparently have never seen how easily I burn in the sun,” I replied. “Cloudy
can be lots of things. It protects from the heat, allows for rain when we need
it. And it warns us of what might be heading our way.”

“Hmm,” was
all he said.

“That’s all I
get?” I asked back.

“I’m
thinking! Your answers are never what I expect. I’m just trying to figure out
what it says about you.”

“Like that
I’m confusing and overly analytical?

“No,” he said
gently, “like that you’re deep. There’s lots to get to know.” I couldn’t help
but smile. Only Aaron Davidson would use a question like that to both get to
know me better and make me feel good about myself.

“My turn,” I
said quickly. My questions were never as good as his, and I always ran out of
them before he did, but still, it was fun. “What video game do you most wish
was your life. And don’t say a football one.” He didn’t say anything for a full
minute, and I thought I had finally stumped him.

“Super Mario
Brothers,” he said finally.

“Okay, that
one you’re going to have to explain.” I could think of no reason he would want
to live in a world with dragons and other obstacles with so few paths to try
and so few chances to get it right.

“Easy. He
always gets the girl in the end.” He said it so simply, like that’s all there
was to it.

“But he has
to go through so much to get to her. And so often he dies trying, at least when
I’m playing.”

“That’s how
you know it’s right—when you’d be willing to face a dragon to protect the one
you love.” I didn’t really know how to respond to that, so I let the silence
hang between us. “What are you thinking about?” he said finally.

I was
thinking that I probably would have faced a dragon for Spencer; actually, I
know I would have. But he wouldn’t have done the same for me.

That
realization took the last little remnants of hurt from my heart. He had been a
total jerk—thoughtless, selfish, mean—but in the end, all that mattered was
that he was not right for me. Perhaps he was right for someone, and that was
fine, but he wasn’t for me. I smiled at the knowledge that I no longer cared.

“You’re
wrong,” I said finally. “You know it’s right when the one you love would be
willing to face a dragon for you.”

A voice on
the other end made me jump. “Hey, Aaron, pizza’s here!” Ah,  timing.

Aaron sighed.
“I guess I better get in there. When you live with a bunch of football players,
food never lasts long.”

“You should
order one with mushrooms. Then they wouldn’t touch it.”

“Tried it.
Didn’t work.”

“Anchovies?”

“Then I
wouldn’t eat it!” he laughed. “B said something about a party later, so talk to
you tomorrow?”

“Of course,”
I said.

I hung up my
phone and reached for my notebook. I still hadn’t made much progress with my
poem. My idea was that it would express the theme of creation of self, using
nature as a metaphor. But it kept coming out as cliché.

the morning dew washes away the
mistakes of yesterday

a new canvas, ready for victory, or
defeat

but something new

a new morning,

a new chance

I fiddled
with it for an hour, at least, using very few of my new revisions. I was trying
too hard, I knew, trying to make something work that just wasn’t there.
Discouraged, I closed the notebook.

Instead I
tried another creative outlet: design. I scoured the internet, looking for
pictures of rooms I liked, things I maybe could recreate for Dwell, or even
just my apartment. Before long I had an inspiration board filled with colors
and textures I liked and scenes whose “feeling” spoke to me. Where words had
escaped me, fitting these elements together was effortless.

My BEsocial
toolbar pinged with a chat notice.
So much for being alone
, I thought.
It was Marcie. We made plans to meet at the gym the next morning, chatted a
little about trivial things. Before I logged off the computer, I toggled over
to my connection updates. A post from Aaron topped the list:
B ate most of
my pizza. Uncool--I only share my pepperoni and mushroom with one person, and
it’s not him.

I smiled,
knowing he meant me. I signed off and readied for bed. Just before I turned out
the light, I saw the waiting text on my phone:
Sweet dreams, Brooke
.

"What?"
Marcie opened her mouth to say something for the third time in five minutes,
but like every other time, she closed it and turned to the monitors over the
treadmills with way too much interest.

"What,
what?" she asked. I rolled my eyes at her. "Okay," she finally
relented. "I have information that I am debating whether or not to share
with you."

I narrowed my
eyes at her. "What kind of information?"

"About
Aaron." I couldn't make sense of this conversation. Marcie didn't know
Aaron, had never even heard of him before he and I became friends. “It’s not
exactly flattering,” she continued.

I dismounted
the treadmill and shut it off. “Do I want to know?” I asked.

“Probably
not, but I think you may need to.” I sighed and followed her to the
semi-privacy of the locker room. Since we didn’t have the normal nine to five
schedule over the summer, we were able to get to the gym when most of the crowd
was at work. Today was an especially dead day.

Marcie
rummaged in her bag for her phone, pushed a few buttons and handed it to me. It
was a bit grainy, but there was no denying that the picture on her screen was
of Aaron, some blonde draped all over him. Neither of them was looking at the
camera, and probably didn’t know the picture was being taken.

I started to
hand it back, but Marcie pushed it back towards me. “Scroll over,” she said. I
did, and saw several more pictures with the same girl, each one with her
attached to his hip. He didn’t appear to mind.

“So what?” I
asked, giving her back her phone. “It’s not like we’re together. We’re
friends.” I didn’t buy my words, and was pretty sure Marcie didn’t either. Even
though we weren’t together, seeing him with another girl brought up feelings I
really wasn’t prepared to deal with. “Besides,” I tried again, “those pictures
could have been taken years ago.”

“Time stamp,”
she said. “They were taken last night.”

The party
with Brandon.

“Still,” I
said. “Aaron’s a big boy. He can go to parties if he wants. In fact, he told me
he was going to a party.”

“With a hot
girl?” she spat, incredulous.

Well, no
, I thought, but that was irrelevant.
He probably met her there. I shook my head and tried to ignore the blonde (who
was really very pretty, in a trying-too-hard kind of way) and return to the
reason I was now looking at her draped all over my Aaron. I mean Aaron--no my.

“Marcie,
where did you get this?” She grabbed her phone back and threw it into her bag,
suddenly very interested in smoothing her ponytail.

“Um, I might
have Googled him this morning.”

“You
what
?
Why would you do that?”

“Because you
are my friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“So you try
to dig up dirt on my friend? Ever think that might hurt me, too?” I was
furious, probably burning more calories in anger than I did running.

“I just
thought you needed a reality check, to see he’s not perfect before you fell for
him. You--” I cut her off before she could finish.

“We. Are.
Not. Like. That.”

“I’m sorry,”
she said. “I wasn’t trying to make you mad, even though I knew you might be. I
just want you to know what you’re going into with this guy.”

“My friend.”

“Who you
probably don’t know as well as you think you do. Think about it: you never see
him, so you only have what he tells you to go by.”

“The same is
true for me,” I countered.

“I know,” she
said, “but I know you well enough to know you aren’t painting yourself as
someone you’re not. Maybe he isn’t either, but he’s a boy, and you’re too
trusting.” I shot her a look of utter disgust. Why was everyone so determined
to mess up what was good in my life? “I’m just trying to look out for you,
Brooke.” I sighed. Marcie was a good friend, and I’d never known her to be conniving.

“I know you
are, Marc, but right now I’m beyond ticked at you.” She nodded, her eyes
downcast. “I’ll call you when I’m over it.” With that I gathered my stuff and
left the gym, not bothering with a shower. The fact was, those pictures of
Aaron bothered me way more than I wanted anyone to know. Sometime between our
pretty deep conversation and this morning, he’d spent enough time with another
girl to end up all over the internet, and judging by the pictures, it wasn’t
completely innocent. She looked to be kissing his neck in at least one of them.
What did that say about what we had shared? Did it change anything? Make it
less sincere?

I spent the
short drive home listing in my head all the reasons I should not be upset about
this. 1) Aaron and I were
just friends
. 2) Aaron had told me he was
going to a party. 3) I had no proof, other than a few internet pictures, that
he’d done anything, anyway. 4) He wasn’t mine.

By the time I
arrived at my apartment, I was more jealous than ever.

I slammed the
door behind me, threw my keys on the kitchen counter, and dropped onto the
couch, landing on something hard. My phone was wedged into the cushions, and it
must have been there since I received Aaron’s goodnight text. Several new
messages were in the queue, all from Aaron, so I began scrolling through them.

Aaron:
hey. um...met someone. so, yeah.
One of the pictures Marcie had shown me was attached.

Aaron:
sry. that was mean.

Aaron: see
you around though, ok? lol.

The time
matched the pictures. Marcie was right. About everything.