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And maybe that was what had caused him to leave and also what should have been my sign that he was not for me. Kissing was the extent of our physical relationship. He wanted more, of course, and made sure to make a huge deal about it when I drew away as he tried to cross my clearly stated boundaries. Apparently he went elsewhere to find what he wanted and had probably been doing so our entire relationship. But I had made a decision years earlier--and it was probably the only part of myself I didn't allow him to change--that I wanted to share myself with only one guy. I reasoned that the only way to be sure of that was to wait for the guy I was going to marry. But even though I had long thought I would marry Spencer, we never went there. I guess that, subconsciously, I didn't trust him to make good on those promises.
I walked to the room number Aaron had given me, but before I could even knock he opened the door, a big smile on his face. "Just in time," he said. "We only get like five channels here, and I don't think I could handle any more Sports Centers today."
"Why?" I asked playfully. "Aren't they all about you?"
"Nah. I'm not an interesting enough figure for summer stories. Thank goodness."
"Just wait until August," I said. "Then they'll be all over you." He winced, apparently all too aware that this was the truth.
Back in the car, I had the same nervous comfort as on the boat. He had to fold himself--all 6'6" of him--into my little coupe. The result was that we were sitting very close to one another, and there was nowhere for me to hide. I felt exposed, vulnerable, especially after what we had shared that morning, but okay with it at the same time.
When we arrived at the movie kiosk, I directed him to the display of new releases. "We've been instructed to get this," I said, indicating a case flaunting a picture of a couple on the verge of making out.
"Seriously?" he asked.
"Yeah. Sorry, it’s her turn to pick." My sister was a total romantic when it came to movies and did not often consider the group when selecting titles.
I placed the rental on my sister's account, figuring if she was going to force me to watch such a pointless film she could at least pay for it. "Nice one," Aaron said, understanding my unspoken motives.
Our next stop was the pizza place next door. "And what have we been instructed to get here?" he asked.
"Nothing. This one is all us," I replied. "What kind do you like?"
"I’m not picky. Get whatever you like.”
“You might want to think twice about that offer,” I said. Me picking the pizza means pepperoni and mushroom.”
“Really?” he said. "I thought I was the only person who liked that pizza. I rarely get to eat it, though, because everyone else finds it disgusting.” He smiled. His smile was so easy, so genuine, and made it so easy to talk to him. "Well, I guess that decides it, huh?"
I ordered a pepperoni and mushroom for us and a sausage for Jill and Dave plus bread sticks for us all. Aaron grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the cooler case and added it to the counter before pulling out his wallet.
I started to protest, "You don't have to--" But he cut me off.
"Hey, it's the least I can do after you've spent your whole weekend entertaining me." Like I'd minded. I knew he had no idea how much him reaching out to me, not once, but twice, had meant to me. That those two conversations had kept me from falling back into a very dark place. After tonight, though, he'd be gone and I would be left to heal on my own. I didn't know if I could do it, if I was ready.
Jill complained about the pizza, as expected. Aaron caught my eye at her protests, a smile twitching at his lips. "Well," she said, "I'm glad you found someone else who likes those slimy things because there is no way I am eating them."
We ate then turned on the movie. It was awful. Watching others make out and grope and say completely cheesy things to one another is never appealing, but even less so considering what I'd been through that morning. About half way through, Jill and Dave joined the act, though they thought they were being discreet. Normally, I would have just gone to my room, but I couldn't just leave Aaron there by himself.
"Hey, you want to get out of here?" he whispered from down the couch.
I didn't bother to whisper my reply. "Yes, please!"
"Lead the way," he said. Neither Jill nor Dave noticed as we slipped out of the den and into the backyard. We wandered through my mother's rose garden, its scent perfuming the air. The swing at the end of the path seemed as good a destination as any, so there we sat, the wooden seat gently going back and forth, back and forth.
Aaron broke the silence first. "So your mom's a gardener."
I nodded. "Professional. She designs rose gardens all over the area. Any time she has extras from those jobs they end up here."
"Wow. So if a guy brings you flowers, they'd better be really impressive, right?"
I screwed up my face. "Actually, I hate flowers."
"You hate flowers? Is that legal?"
"Well, not flowers, really, just getting them."
"Why is that? I thought all girls love getting flowers."
I sighed, knowing I was about to say something that would seem ridiculous to him. That he would finally see me for the messed up person I was. "Flowers die," I said. “Maybe it's a literary thing--you know, symbolism. Like, the relationship is doomed to die just like the flowers." Aaron laughed softly. "What? I'm an English teacher; it's what I do."
He was still smiling, "I just never knew that girls read so much into guys' gifts."
"I think that's probably what I hate most about getting flowers, that there's really not much to read into with them. It's...a cop out. You don't know what to get, so you give the universally appreciated gift."
"Universally appreciated except by you."
I shrugged. "I appreciate thought. Flowers don't generally have thought behind them. You don't usually even know what the bouquet will end up looking like when you order them. If it was a particular flower that had meaning, that would be different."
"Ah, I see. So what displays of thought would impress you, Brooke? Pepperoni and mushroom pizza?"
I laughed. "Exactly. I don't know...maybe a book by my favorite author. Or a DVD of the movie we watched on our first date."
"So, no diamonds?" he asked.
"Well, I mean, diamonds are pretty hard to turn down. But really I just want a gift to be tangible evidence that someone was thinking of me. I know it's silly--"
"No, it's not," he interrupted. We swung in silence for a few minutes, and when he spoke, I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "Brooke? Did Spencer ever give you things like that?"
"Yeah, right. He used to buy me DVDs of his favorite movies so when he was over we could watch them without him having to remember to bring his copy. And I never got to pick the pizza, or even the appetizer."
"Why did you stay with him if he was so selfish?" I froze as he said this. It was the question I had avoided answering to myself for the last two months. Maybe the last two years. I had focused on what I had done to make him leave, but never on why I had put up with him. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Don't answer that."
"No, it's okay," I said. I looked out over the garden, past the pond, into space. "I guess it became a habit. I tried to give him a chance, thinking it would get better. After awhile it was just the way it was and I forgot that his behavior wasn't normal." Saying this out loud was painful. I had never admitted to anyone how uncaring Spencer was, assuming that that was what I deserved for staying with him. And now I was admitting it to a virtual stranger.
"No one should be treated like that. Especially not by someone who says they love you. Especially not someone like you."
I laughed. "What? You mean girls who allow themselves to be trampled because they are too afraid to hurt someone's feelings if they dump him?"
"No," he said, "girls who care so much about others that they put those feelings above their own, even at great consequence."
"Same thing."
"No it's not. You cared, he didn't, bu
t you wanted to believe he was capable of it, to care about him anyway because you believe everyone should have someone who cares about them. Tell me I’m wrong."
I'd never thought about it that way. Aaron had taken my thoughts, but turned them so that my actions were not a fault, but a virtue. I sat there, thinking about this for a moment.
"Okay," I said finally, "assuming you're right, then how do I keep from ending up in the same situation again?"
"Easy," he replied, stretching his arms out in front of him. "Find the right guy."
I laughed again. "Yeah? What's he look like?"
"Oh, I don't know...about 6'6", dark hair..." He said it seriously, but his eyes gave him away.
"I wish it was that easy. To just look to your right and find him. Perfect guys don't exist anyway. Even the seemingly perfect guys could be lying."
"I never said he had to be perfect, just right. For you."
I wanted to thank him for his words, for taking the time to listen and not just offer platitudes, but how do you do that without sounding cheesy? Or, really, without revealing more than you mean to? "Are you always this good at making people feel better?" I finally asked.
He shrugged. "I guess it comes from having sisters. It's like I was born a big brother; it's in my nature to protect and make things better. Do you feel better?"
More than you could imagine, I wanted to say. Instead I just nodded. "Thank you."
"Any time." He smiled and nudged my leg with his knee. "But now I’m changing the subject back to our conversation last night and you knowing more about me than I do about you."
“I think you’ve learned more than enough about messed up me today,” I said. I was shocked he was still sitting next to me, that he hadn’t suggested I take him back to the hotel, or even chosen to sit through the rest of the movie. But he didn’t.
“Nope,” he said. “None of that is who you are, just what has happened to you. I want to know you.”
I looked at him, confused. “Why?” I asked.
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he said, no humor in his voice, “but I know that I want to.”
I could feel the color rise to my cheeks, but Aaron was looking out over the garden, not at me. It would be so easy to like him. I mean like him, like him, as my students would say. But that would be silly for so many reasons. Just enjoy the night, Brooke, I told myself.
From there the conversation drifted to school, our families, plans for the summer. I had never met someone so easy to talk to. I had known Aaron for only twenty-four hours, and yet it felt like I had known him forever, but not. It was hard to describe: on the one hand, I felt at ease telling him things I would never tell my sister or girls I taught with; on the other, there was so much more I wanted to know about him and to share with him about me.
The early summer sun had long since given way to darkness, and we drifted into silence magnified the sound of crickets, a frog jumping into the pond, cars on the nearby street. After a couple of minutes of swinging in silence, I looked up and found Aaron looking at me. His gaze was hard to read: it was soft, but serious. He moved toward me, and without thinking, without hesitating, I moved toward him. He was just inches from me, our lips so close. And then we heard the back door swing open and slam shut. We both jumped and sat upright. The swing stopped. My heart was pounding, though from the near kiss or from almost being caught, I wasn't sure. I could hear the trill of Jill's voice, calling for me.
"Well," he said, "I guess maybe that's my cue to leave." Neither of us moved, though. It had been a great night, and even though the day had been humiliatingly horrible, I even had pleasant memories to take away from it. I knew the end was inevitable, but I hated to see it come anyway. It felt the same as when my best friend moved away in third grade. I stood in her driveway crying and waving until her family's car was out of sight. We exchanged addresses, promised to write, and did so for a few months. Eventually, though, we stopped writing as we each started spending time with other friends and moved on.
And here was Aaron, someone who had been kinder to me, whom I had more in common with, who seemed to get me more than anyone else I had ever known, and he was leaving. Except now, as an adult, I didn't feel like I had any friends to move on to. Acquaintances I called friends? Dozens. People I hung out with? Many. But not any real friends. Spencer didn't really encourage any of my friendships, and they died from lack of nurturing. And so now, when I needed friends most, I was without any, yet another casualty of our dysfunctional relationship.
Jill started walking toward us, at which point we stood and made our way back to the driveway. "I was wondering where you two went," she said. "Didn't you like the movie?"
"It was just feeling a little crowded in there," I replied. I could see Aaron out of the corner of my eye stifling a smile. Jill looked confused, obviously not getting it. "I'm just going to take Aaron back to his hotel."
"It was nice to meet you, Jill. Dave," he said, nodding at him.
Jill and Dave said their goodbyes to us and we walked to my car. We didn't talk much on the way, letting the radio fill the silence between us. I pulled into the same parking spot as before and shifted the car into park. I turned to look at him and found he was already looking at me. I tried to smile back, but found my attempt to be a little feeble. When he finally spoke, it was not at all what I expected. "Where's your phone?" he asked.
I pulled it out and handed it to him, confused. "Why do you need--?"
"Text me when you get home, so I'll know you made it safely," he said while keying in numbers. Oh my goodness, I thought. His complete kindness was not making me feel any better about him leaving. He thanked me again for the weekend, promised to tell Brad I'd said goodbye, and then got out of the car. I waited for him to get to his room and unlock the door, turning to wave to me as he did, before pulling out and heading home. Once I arrived I sat in the car and added a message to the number already lit on the screen of my phone: Home safely :).
A reply came almost immediately: I'm glad. :) Sweet dreams.
And for the first time in recent memory, they were.
Chapter 4
At some point during the night I had made a decision. I wandered into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and found the real estate section of the Sunday paper scattered on the table.
"Moving?" my dad asked over the sports section.
"Yep," I replied. He dropped the paper down to look at me and gauge my seriousness. My expression told him that I was, in fact, serious.
"And where, may I ask, are you moving?"
"I don't know yet. That's why I'm looking in the paper."
"Did something happen to make you so suddenly decide this?" Yes, actually, it did I thought to myself. I had not been sure at first where I would get a teaching job. When I decided to accept a position close to my parents' house, I had moved back in with them until I started getting a paycheck. After all, I would most likely be getting married soon, so signing a year-long lease seemed silly. But now, I realized, there was really nothing keeping me here. More importantly, I now felt confident enough to go out into the world by myself, to face the challenges of life head on. How much had changed in just a weekend.
"I just think it's time," I answered.
By that afternoon I had toured a new complex near the school where I taught, fallen in love with its dark cabinetry, granite counter tops and large deck, and signed a lease. But just a six-month one--I wanted to keep all of my options open.
"I can't believe you're doing this," Jill said as she watched me start to pack up my room at Mom and Dad's.
"Why not? Is it so strange for a twenty-three-year-old to have a place of her own?
"Well, no..." she started. "It's just not like you."
I looked up from the box I was filling. "And by that you mean...?"
"Just that you don't usually make decisions so rashly. I mean, you really just woke up today and decided to move out?"
"Yep, that's exactly what happened. Is that wrong
?"
"No, I just...well, yesterday had to have been a really hard day for you. Are you sure you aren't just being reactive?"
"Look, yesterday was awful The last two months have been awful. I've just decided that I'm not going to let his decisions impact how I live my life anymore. I'm tired of being controlled by him, even after the relationship has ended."
Wow. I couldn't remember the last time I had spoken such bold words. Actually, I could. It was sometime pre-Spencer. Jill didn’t say anything, but stood up and started filling the nearest box with books. For Jill, that equaled approval. I reached for a trash bag and began ridding my nightstand of junk.
“Think Mom will ever talk to me again?” I asked.
Mom was not happy with my decision to move out. Rebellious, she’d called it, though the only rebellious thing I’d done was make a decision without first getting her permission. Now I needed Jill on my side more than ever. Even if she was rather thoughtless and annoyingly self-absorbed, she was much better than I at navigating Mom.
“Yes,” Jill said. “She’s incapable of not talking. Personally, I’m a little jealous of the silent treatment you’re getting.”
She was right to some extent. I didn’t like the fact that my mother was mad at me, especially since I had done nothing wrong, but Jill was correct that a night without my mother’s nagging was not the worst thing in the world.
Mom’s nagging was something I’d heard a lot of the last few weeks. She had a very clear picture of how she wanted her daughters’ lives to turn out, and Spencer fit perfectly into her image of mine. She may have even taken the breakup harder than I did. Dating Spencer was pretty much the only thing I’d ever done that impressed her; without him I was a disappointment.
“Okay,” I said, “so what do I do once she starts talking but is still angry?”