Survivor Stories

by J P Barnaby

  What he couldn’t admit, not even to his mother or to any of the dozen shrinks, was that when he thought about Juliette, when he heard her screaming in his head, it also brought back everything they had done to him as well. It made him feel selfish to focus on his own trauma when he had survived and she hadn’t. He should be cherishing his second chance at life and not squandering it, locked away and not really living.

  These were the last thoughts he had before finally, mercifully, the tranquilizer put him to sleep.

  Seven

  SPENCER FELT a hand on his arm and looked up to see Dr. Mayer. After pulling the messenger bag off his shoulder, he dropped it on the floor and signed to Karen, his new interpreter, that she could go. He could talk to his instructor without her. She nodded and left with a wave. His face flushed a little as he turned around to face Dr. Mayer. It was only the first week. He had no idea what he could have done already. Images of sitting in the principal’s office with his father year after year flashed in his head.

  “I wanted to talk to you about your project partner,” Dr. Mayer said slowly, enunciating his words very clearly, which Spencer appreciated. Sometimes people talked too fast for him to catch, or worse, talked with their mouths full of food so that he had no idea what they said. “His name is Aaron Downing, and he was sitting next to you during the lecture.”

  Of course he was. Fucking Karma.

  He’d recognized the guy as soon as he sat down. How could he not? It wasn’t just the scars he remembered, but the haunted, dead look in the… in Aaron’s eyes. Besides, a panic attack in the middle of the quad wasn’t something he would forget any time soon. At least Spencer would be able to find a way to apologize for scaring the fuck out of him before term started. He didn’t know if Dr. Mayer had any more idea what had happened to the guy than he did, so he didn’t ask, but his instructor answered the question anyway.

  “Without violating his privacy, I can tell you that Aaron…. Well, he needs a little compassion. I matched you together because, from talking to his parents, I think it may be easier for him to work with a partner without actually speaking—like through text, chat, or e-mail. My brother is deaf, so I had a feeling you might feel more comfortable working that way as well. Terry can talk, but he feels more comfortable with written communication. Is it the same for you?” Dr. Mayer looked a little self-conscious about his revelation but kept meeting Spencer’s eyes.

  “Yes.,” Spencer said, choosing not to elaborate.

  “He is also very shy, so if you could introduce yourself to him, that might make things go a little more smoothly.” Yes, I’m sure that will go very well. Hi, my name is Spencer, sorry for scaring the holy fucking shit out of you in the quad the other day. Can I get your cell phone number so we can text like normal antisocial human beings, since we are both too fucked up to have a conversation?

  “Okay. I. Will. Talk. To. Him..” Spencer adjusted his bag with nervous energy pulsing through him. He wanted to just get to his next class and not think about it anymore. He didn’t want to know if the kid remembered him. Of course, Dr. Mayer could not have known about the incident in the quad, but it seemed like an awful lot of responsibility to put on his shoulders in the first week of class. He raised his hand in a half wave to let Dr. Mayer know he was leaving and then escaped the room with a speed that bordered on flight.

  His hands continued to shake until he reached the small study area at the end of the hall. Fishing into his pocket, Spencer pulled out a couple of dollar bills and forced them into the vending machine to get a soda, because he’d learned long ago that sugar made everything better. Pancake syrup, ice cream, cookies, soda—it seemed his mood had always been influenced heavily by his blood sugar. He opened the bottle and found salvation in its perfectly carbonated depths. Thank you, Jesus, and hallelujah.

  According to the time on his phone, he had about half an hour before his next class, so Spencer dropped into one of the chairs and tossed his bag onto the table in front of him. He wondered where Aaron Downing was right then. Maybe they’d have another class together and he could talk to him before their next class. He took out a piece of paper and wrote down all his electronic information—chat, cell phone, e-mail. Adding a note at the bottom to make his intentions clear, he slid the paper into the front of his programming book and put it back in his bag.

  Spencer had four classes that term: Freshman Programming Design, psychology, Calculus I, and Freshman Composition. Programming and Calculus would be his favorites, by far. He’d always been an analytical person to whom math and science came easily. The English class, unfortunately, was a requirement, and he prayed to whatever God would listen that he wouldn’t have to ever read his work aloud. He’d picked psychology to fill one of the humanities electives that he dreaded. He’d much rather fill the time with science electives, but the school wanted them to have a well-rounded education—whatever the fuck that meant. Physics would have been more his style, but at least he had a built-in psychology tutor if he needed it. Maybe it would give him and his dad something to talk about.

  The class starting in… twenty minutes… was Calculus. He’d already talked to the instructor, and together they decided he could forego an interpreter. Sitting in the front of the class, he should be able to get the gist of the lecture, and Dr. Lanman said she did a majority of the lecture on the whiteboard. The tension left his shoulders as he thought about a whole ninety minute math class without people staring at him like they did in the programming class. Even that kid Aaron had stared. When he did, Spencer got a good look at the scars on his face and neck. God, he couldn’t even imagine what had happened to cause that kind of physical and psychological damage.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he checked the display and saw a text from his father.

  DAD: What’s up, doc?

  Spencer laughed. It had been a joke of theirs for as long as he could remember. One day when he’d been watching cartoons, he heard the phrase and asked his dad if it referred to him. He was a doctor, after all. After that, every time his father wanted to see how he was, that’s the phrase he used. His father had asked it after his first day at school when the hearing kids made fun of him. He’d asked it after the principal called him for Spencer’s behavioral problems. He’d asked it to get Spencer to finally tell him he was gay.

  SPENCER: Not much. Got through my first class of the day without getting in trouble. Sitting here waiting for my second.

  DAD: Up for Mexican for dinner?

  SPENCER: La Caretta?

  DAD: Yep. Get through the day without punching anyone, and we’ll go out to dinner.

  SPENCER: I think I can do that. No one has said anything to me at all except my programming teacher.

  DAD: Was there a problem?

  SPENCER: No. Remember me telling you about that kid from the quad, the one that freaked out?

  DAD: Yes.

  SPENCER: He ended up in my programming class, and Dr. Mayer made us project partners. The kid’s name is Aaron, and Dr. Mayer asked me to introduce myself because he’s really shy. He said that Aaron needed compassion.

  SPENCER: I saw him up close today. He’s got horrible scars on his face. I feel so bad for him.

  DAD: Just take things slow, Spence. He will come around. But, if he shows any violent tendencies, tell me immediately and we’ll talk to your instructor. Okay?

  SPENCER: Dr. Mayer said that Aaron would want to work over the computer, mostly, like I would. That is why he paired us up.

  DAD: That was very considerate of him.

  SPENCER: That is what I thought too. Class now. See you at four.

  DAD: See you then.

  Spencer clicked off the phone and put it back in his pocket. It never occurred to him Aaron might have violent tendencies. He just assumed by what had happened in the quad that the kid had been hurt badly by someone. No, he couldn’t believe that Aaron had been the aggressor in whatever happened to him. First, the kid was only like five and a half feet tall and
didn’t weigh anything. He would have to be insane to start a fight with anyone. Someone had hurt him, and badly.

  After picking up his bag, he headed off to his Calculus class as his mind raced about his new partner.

  The next morning, Spencer got to school early so he could wait for Aaron in the class and talk to him before it started filling up. He didn’t want his interpreter there, because his new partner seemed kind of skittish of people. The room was empty when he entered and climbed up to the very last row of seats. Taking the seat Dr. Mayer had designated for him, he took his programming book out of his bag and set it on the desk next to the keyboard. The piece of paper with his contact information stuck out of the top, but he left it there while he waited.

  The nervous energy made his limbs vibrate, and he tapped his fingers against the desk in some tuneless rhythm. He’d never heard music, but he could feel it vibrating under his feet when Dad played it at the house. The habit was born more of anxiety than music, anyway. With a sigh, he turned on the computer. He could play solitaire until class started.

  A shadow fell over his face a few minutes later, and he looked up to see Aaron passing him to sit in the same seat next to Spencer. He had dark circles under dull blue eyes, and his complexion was almost a light gray. The way he’d run out of class the day before made Spencer think maybe the partner thing was a source of stress for Aaron, so he decided to just bite the bullet and do it.

  Eight

  WHEN AARON entered the lab, he was surprised and a little disappointed to find he wasn’t alone. As he climbed up, past row after row of empty seats, his attention was focused on the boy that was sitting in the seat next to the one Aaron sat in. For a moment, he considered moving to the other side of the aisle, but then decided that someone else would just sit next to him anyway, and sat down his stuff at his regular seat. Briefly, he wondered where the boy’s interpreter was. Aaron turned on his workstation, watching the screen as he waited for it to boot. He was startled completely out of his thoughts when the boy next to him said his name.

  “Aaron,” he said in a slow, measured timbre, his pronunciation slightly different than Aaron was used to. He looked over at the boy and noticed for the first time that he was relatively short-statured, just like Aaron. His shaggy brown hair was in naturally curled disarray because of the slight humidity, and his nose and cheeks were dusted sparingly with freckles. Aaron did something he would normally never do: he met the boy’s gaze. He wasn’t sure what had made him do it, but he found the other boy’s hazel eyes were full of kindness and wonder rather than judgment.

  Aaron merely nodded in response.

  “My. Name. Is. Spencer.,” the boy said in a very slow, punctuated speech. The words sounded only slightly off from what someone would expect as a standard cadence, but in his panic, Aaron hardly noticed. “I. Am. Your. Project. Partner..” Spencer handed Aaron a piece of paper with his e-mail, cell phone number, and instant messenger contact information. Printed in neat block writing below that was a note that read, “It is easier for me to work like this if that is okay with you?”

  In response, Aaron quickly turned around with panic fluttering in his chest and created an account on the site Spencer used for instant messaging. He sent him a chat invitation and waited while Spencer responded. It only took a minute for the first chat window to pop up.

  SPENCER: Thanks, this makes things easier for me.

  AARON: Me too.

  Aaron typed in his e-mail address and cell phone number, breathing a sigh of deep relief that he’d drawn this boy as a partner, and that Spencer had sought him out. Had Aaron believed in fate, he might have chalked this pairing up to that, but he didn’t. Believing in fate would mean that what happened to him, what happened to Juliette, was supposed to happen, and he didn’t think God was that cruel.

  AARON: How did you know who I was?

  SPENCER: Dr. Mayer told me, plus you were the only one whose name he didn’t call besides mine. It would have been a process of elimination, anyway.

  AARON: What did he tell you about me?

  SPENCER: Nothing really, just that you keep to yourself, but that he thinks we will work well together. And I don’t have to use my interpreter.

  Aaron didn’t have any reply to that, because he knew exactly what it was like to rely so completely on others to be able to function. Other students were starting to file in now, taking their places among the graduated rows of computers on their Formica tables. He checked his screen as another message came up.

  SPENCER: You want to chat later and talk about the project? We should start deciding what we want to do, and maybe put a plan together.

  AARON: That’s a good idea. Around 7:00?

  SPENCER: Cool.

  It occurred to Aaron as he saw Spencer’s translator making her way up through the throng of other students, that he had just done what he had set out to do. Well, actually, Spencer had really done most of it, but regardless, it was done. He had met and actually talked to his partner, gotten contact information, and set up a time for them to work later. A warm glow of accomplishment, one that he hadn’t felt in a very long time, blazed in his chest. He thought it might be pride.

  The lecture continued along similar lines as the day before, program structures and object-oriented structures. He found the subject matter rather fascinating and started to subconsciously apply some of the concepts to a program he’d been constructing in his head since the project had been assigned. Aaron got completely into the material and found he didn’t want the lecture to end, but too soon Dr. Mayer dismissed them. Aaron hung back as he usually did, waiting for the other students to file out so he didn’t risk any accidental contact. Spencer turned to him after he’d packed up and waved before pointing to his watch. Aaron nodded at the reminder to be on at seven.

  He started to say he remembered, but then after rolling his eyes at himself, just nodded.

  “Aaron, do you have a moment?” Dr. Mayer asked as Aaron headed down the steps and toward the door. Aaron changed direction, and after letting a group of girls pass, moved to stand in front of the table that instructors used to hold their stuff during lectures. There wasn’t enough of the blond wood for it to really be called a desk—it was little more than a glorified side table, but it put an effective buffer between them. Dr. Mayer was currently using it to put away his laptop and notes. As Aaron waited, the professor looked up.

  “Thanks for staying. I just wondered if Mr. Thomas talked to you today?” Dr. Mayer asked as he zipped up his bag.

  “Mr. Thomas?” Aaron asked, running his hand over his short hair. Was he one of the administrators or something? He started to feel a little uncomfortable. Had he done something wrong?

  “Spencer Thomas is your project partner. I asked him to introduce himself so that maybe you would feel a little more comfortable with the idea of a partner,” Dr. Mayer said with a slight frown. He appeared to be disappointed because he thought Spencer hadn’t done as he’d asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t think he ever said his last name,” Aaron told the desk, not looking at the instructor. “We chatted on IM for a few minutes before class.” Then he decided he might as well do the thing properly. “We are meeting up online later tonight in order to get started.” Aaron scuffed the toe of his shoe along the floor, embarrassed by the gap that existed between himself and a normally functioning person. He wanted to thank Dr. Mayer for helping him to find such a good partner, but he couldn’t find the words.

  “That is fantastic, Aaron!” the older man exclaimed, and then in a lower voice, almost conspiratorially, he added, “You have an incredible amount of potential as a programmer. Your code on that first assignment was some of the cleanest and most concise I’ve seen. That shows not only talent, but creativity. I didn’t want to see you stumble on a solvable problem.” Of course, this man had no idea what did or did not constitute a solvable problem for Aaron, but Aaron did appreciate what Dr. Mayer had gone through in order to help him. He also appreciated th
e kind words the professor had said about his potential. It had been a long time since he felt like he had any potential, any purpose, or any future.

  Maybe, in time, he would find he did.

  “HOW WAS class?” his mother asked when he’d gotten in the car. As he told her about the unexpected conversations, both with the new boy, Spencer, and his professor, her face grew more and more excited. Not only had he moved forward with his project and stayed in the class, but his instructor felt he had a knack for something—something other than failure and panic. His mother said she had always known computers were the place for him, because all mothers know what’s best for their children. She also promised to have dinner out of the way early so he’d have plenty of time to get ready for his chat session with Spencer.

  With an extreme effort, he managed not to roll his eyes. Jesus, she made it sound like some kind of date. If dating were even a remote possibility for him, he could see her getting excited, but he hadn’t even dated before the attack. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he was just scared. Juliette may have guessed at it, but he was pretty sure his mother wouldn’t be excited to know he was gay. But, true to her word, his mother made a quick dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup so Aaron was in his room by a quarter of six. Opening up the file on his laptop for the project specs, he began to read.

  PING

  The sound of his chat notification startled him out of his thoughts, and his heart jumped into his throat. Looking down, he noticed that, without conscious thought, he’d taken a page full of notes about the project and his ideas for what they could work on. He had drawn out several crude interfaces and a few logic flowcharts for subroutines and objects to support his ideas. The more he read in the specs, the more excited he’d gotten about working on it. It had been so long since he’d been excited about anything, he almost didn’t recognize the feeling.