"Wow, those are some big gaps in age. Are you close to them?"
"Yeah. We're far enough apart in age that they never really got on my nerves. It's hard though; I mean, Maggie was born just a couple of months before I left for school, which was kind of weird. Since then I've really only been around her during holidays and some in the summer. Sara's old enough now that she'll call and we'll talk about life, you know, school, girl drama, all that.”
"They're in Wisconsin, right?" As soon as I said it I blushed, embarrassed by my admission of how much I knew about him. But Aaron just smiled. I noticed how easy his smile was, how genuine.
"This is really not fair, Brooke," he said, still smiling. "You already know everything about me."
"No, I don't. I only know what they flash on the screen at the start of the games. Height...weight...completion percentage. That's not who you are." I was surprised at how easily these words flowed from me, without thought, without hesitation. This was not typical me behavior.
He nodded slowly, thinking, it seemed. "You're probably the first person who's ever said that," he said.
"What?"
"That facts and stats don't make me me. Most seem to think they do."
"Well, it probably makes you popular," I said.
"Or not. Being the quarterback at a school known for quarterbacks is not as glamorous as you might think." We walked on a few yards before he continued. "I have to take a lot of criticism, a lot of comparisons. It's part of the job, but it gets old. It's distracting."
I was thinking about this, this difference between what things seemed to be and what things were, something I had learned way too much about recently, when Jill's screech interrupted my thinking.
"Brooke!" Jill had turned and was rushing back toward us. "Guess what just occurred to me?!"
"There is no telling," I replied as I glanced back at Aaron. A reply to her, a warning to him. Jill was known, famous even, for her schemes. They usually involved setting people up, and so I searched my brain to try to figure out whom might be her next victim...er...project.
"Don't you think Leighann and Brad would be perfect together?"
"Um, maybe?" Leighann was a friend of hers from college that had become of friend of mine by default. She was nice and single, which were really the only two characteristics Jill was using for her matchmaking, I was pretty sure. “But you know, they don't exactly live in the same state," I added. “Some people would see that as a problem."
"Good grief, Brooke. I'm not suggesting they get married, just hang out." I hoped Brad and Leighann were willing to go along with this because it was non-negotiable at this point. Once Jill was set on a match, she saw it through to the end, or at least the first date.
"It's fine," Brad interjected. "It's just a day on the lake, right. It'll be fun, even if nothing comes of it. You up for the lake tomorrow, Aaron?"
"Lake?" Aaron sounded confused, like he wasn't sure how he factored into this. "No, man. I wouldn't want to be in the way."
"Oh, you wouldn't be in the way," Jill purred. Dave and I will be there and so will Brooke. There's plenty of room, literally and figuratively." I shook my head at my sister's attempt to be profound.
Aaron looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. "You're going?"
"Apparently," I said, glaring at my sister as I did.
"Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," he said, his smile growing. "On the lake."
Chapter 3
The lake was already crowded when we arrived at eight the next morning. The sound of motors and yelling filled the air, much too loud for the early hour. Jill's boyfriend, Dave, walked over to the car to help us unload the cooler while Leighann checked her hair for the twelfth time. She’d agreed to Jill’s little plan without hesitation and was completely okay with a Memorial Day romance.
I saw Jill waving to Brad, abandoning Dave and dragging Leighann away from the side view mirror. Great. He was alone, and I was the odd woman out, as usual. It's not that I had thought of me and Aaron as being a pair for today, but it would have been nice to have someone to talk to. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt so alone, so single.
"Nice day, huh?" I jumped a little, feeling my face redden as I realized it was Aaron speaking. I did my best to compose my face before turning to face him.
"I thought maybe you'd changed your mind," I said, trying to sound uninterested, but my face undoubtedly gave me away.
"Not a chance," he replied, his mouth pulling up into a half smile. "Besides, what's the alternative? Stay at the hotel all day? Not my idea of a good time."
"I don't know," I said, "it might be better than watching one couple making out all morning and another awkwardly try to get to know one another."
"Ah, but that's another reason I couldn't stay away: there's no way I was letting you have all that fun by yourself." Then he winked at me before walking off to help the other guys load the boat. This was probably how he was with everyone, I told myself--friendly, easy-going, even flirtatious. Regardless, though, I was happy to have him along, to have someone to hang out with.
We'd been on the water for a couple of hours. The guys were fishing; Jill and Leighann were gossiping, a Cosmo splayed out in front of them; I was reading. I hadn’t noticed the red and silver boat that sped past us--it was Memorial Day weekend, after all, and there were dozens of boats speeding all around us--but as it slowed down and circled back to us I suddenly had the feeling that someone was staring at me. Someone was. Spencer. I had not spoken to him since that night and had almost reached the point where I no longer thought of him every day. But here we were, on the wide open lake with nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
"Hey," he said.
In my mind I was thinking, Hey? After all that you've put me through, all you have to say to me is 'hey'? What I actually replied was, "Hey.” It was lame. I knew it was, but I was so caught off guard that I didn't have time to compose a better sentence. We each stood there for a few seconds, not knowing what to say, how to act. A girl in a bikini about the size of a Barbie outfit walked up, tossing her hair as she wrapped her arms around Spencer. He looked at her, obviously not knowing quite what to say.
"Um, Brittney, this is Brooke. A friend from college. Brooke, this is Brittney."
You mean your girlfriend from college, the one you led to believe you loved and cared for, I added in my head.
"His fiancée," she added.
His fiancée. We'd been broken up for all of two months, and not only had he moved on, but he had already asked her to marry him? In four years with me the idea had obviously never entered his mind. I had no idea how to respond to this, no idea what to say. I fought the lump that formed in the back of my throat. Why did that always happen? I hated that I was so emotional. Crying here would be admitting how much I was still hurting. I didn't want him to know, to give him an opportunity to hurt me further. Eventually I found words.
"Engaged. Wow. I had no idea. Um, when did this happen?" I hoped my conversation sounded natural, interested.
"On March 27th," she gushed. Spencer stiffened. "I had been waiting for him to ask forever, and when he finally did, well, it was magic!"
I knew that, like most brides to be, she wanted to launch into a novel about the proposal and wedding preparations, but Spencer nudged her and she stopped. This girl obviously didn't know who I was, and that on March 26th, I had been sitting in my favorite restaurant expecting the ring she had received the very next day. Many things suddenly made sense. I wanted to be mad at her, but she was unaware of his indiscretion. I wanted to scream, but that, too, seemed unproductive. Instead, I thought for a moment, composed myself, and turning to her with a smile said, "Well, I hope he is as good to you as he was to me." Her face erupted into an even bigger smile, clearly oblivious to my double meaning, but it was not lost on him. He cast his eyes downward, embarrassed at being caught, no doubt.
With that I turned my back on them and walked back to the shade of the canopy and my book. I heard Spencer's boat moto
r off, making the silence of those around me deafening. The book was open in front of me, a prop, as I focused all of my energy on not crying. I didn't know how to feel. Angry? Sure, but it was more than that. Stupid was more the word. How could I not have known? How could I not have seen? How could I have wasted four years of my life with someone who would play me like that? A list of negative adjectives flowed through my mind, each one more self-damning than the first.
"Hey," Aaron said softly as he came up behind me. "Can I join you?"
I did not look up at his words, not trusting my composure, only nodded my assent. He obviously knew--Jill and Dave must have filled him in as they watched the scene unfold. Aaron lowered himself to the bench beside me, but did not speak. And just like the night before, I felt a sense of comfort simply from his presence. I couldn't decide if he was waiting for me to speak, so I decided to offer an explanation. "That was my ex," I said. "And his new fiancée."
"Ouch."
"Yeah, I was not aware he had moved on so quickly...as in, before he broke up with me. On my birthday."
"Sounds like a great guy."
I winced. The truth hurts.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't even know him," he said.
"No, you're right. I'm just not sure what hurts worse right now, that he cheated on me, or that I was too stupid to realize it." I angrily brushed away the single tear that had escaped, and Aaron caught my hand, forcing me to look up at him.
"Brooke. I have known you less than twenty-four hours, but that's enough for me to know that you are not stupid."
I waited for more, but nothing else came. He did this a lot, I noticed. Stopped a line of conversation just as it seemed to get going. But it didn't feel off-putting, or final, just...unrushed. He released my hand and smiled at me, that half smile I was already beginning to associate with him. My anger and confusion and hurt were instantly replaced with comfort tinged with embarrassment. I mean, what did that say about me that my boyfriend had cheated? And worse, everyone in the world now knew my business, and by everyone in the world I meant Aaron Davidson. I decided to attempt more words. "It just hurts, you know? I mean, everyone goes through breakups, but just when I think I've gotten over it, something happens to bring it all back front and center in my mind."
"Like you grandmother."
"And her friends. And my parents. And former students who haven't heard. And fiancées,” I said motioning towards the water where Spencer’s boat had been. “And I shouldn't even care. I mean, why would I want to be with someone who cheats on me and obviously doesn't want me in his life and--"
"But you do care," he interrupted. "Because for all the careless and awful things he did to you, he was still a big part of your life for a very long time, right? That's why it hurts."
I could only nod in reply. He was right. Of course he was right. But knowing this did not make the truth easier to swallow.
"But why?" I was no longer trying to stop the tears as they rolled down my cheeks. "I've gotten past trying to figure out why he didn't want to be with me, what was wrong with me, but why not just breakup with me when he decided he wanted something different?"
He shrugged. "Because guys are jerks."
"That's comforting."
"I don't have a better explanation for why someone would treat another human being that way, especially one who is so caring. People just don't think. Or don't care. Either way, it has nothing to do with you."
"But I get stuck with the complex to overcome."
He smiled an apology for his gender. "You will. It might not be easy, but eventually this will be just a bad memory in an otherwise wonderful life."
"How did you get to be such a relationship expert?" I searched his face for an answer, intrigued by his calm wisdom.
He sighed. "Guys aren't the only ones who can be jerks in relationships." He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t feel right asking.
At that moment a voice broke into our conversation: "Aaron, dude, help me with this fish!"
Aaron looked over at Brad, then back at me, "You okay?"
"No, but I will be. Go."
He squeezed my hand before getting up and walking to the other end of the boat. I watched him ably reel the fish in; Brad and Dave caught it in a net. Leighann and Jill applauded, and I found myself joining in and actually smiling.
The day had been a roller coaster of emotions for me, and I was relieved when my sister announced she was ready to head back to the marina. The guys carried the coolers and loaded the cars while we girls stood around and watched them. I hated that my last conversation with Aaron had been so dramatic, so much of a downer. I could picture him in the locker room in the fall, telling his buddies about this mess of a girl he had to endure over Memorial Day weekend. No, he wouldn't. In a few hours he'd be gone and never think about me again. But isn't that what I'd expected all along? Wanted even? Why did it suddenly matter? I decided it was because I had finally found someone who just listened without feeling obligated to try to fix things. Who seemed to understand me even if I didn’t understand myself. And now, no sooner had I found it, I was losing it again.
I wandered over toward the cars, where Brad, Aaron and my sister were standing. Brad and Jill looked as if they were up to something.
"Hey, man, I gotta ask a huge favor," said Brad.
"No, I don't mind if you leave me on my own to go out with Leighann tonight," Aaron replied. His smile and the look on Jill's face told me he had just messed up a well-rehearsed plan.
Brad recovered. "Are you sure, man? I mean, I really want to go out with her, but I feel bad leaving you at the hotel."
"You could come over for Movie Night." I spoke the words before I realized it. The three of them turned to look at me, and suddenly I was, for the second time in just a few hours, the center of attention. "If you want to, I mean" I stammered.
"What's Movie Night?" asked Brad.
"Oh, once a month we order pizza and rent DVDs for whoever wants to come over," Jill gushed. "But it won't be as good this time. With the holiday weekend, I think it will be just Dave and me and Brooke." What was this? National Make Brooke Hate Herself Day?
Aaron turned from her and looked directly at me. "You sure I won't be intruding?"
I rolled my eyes, "Oh, please."
He smiled his half smile, "Then I'm there."
Arrangements were made, goodbyes said. And I was both elated and nervous. I was ecstatic to spend more time with Aaron, who had such a way of making me feel safe, but terrified because I knew he would find a way to get me to share more of myself, something I had been trying to avoid for months. I tried to convince myself it was no big deal. I wouldn't have to spend the evening alone, and any humiliation would leave with him at the end of the night.
Oh, please.
I arrived at his hotel at 6:30 sharp. I'd spent thirty minutes trying to find an outfit that I hoped would give the impression that I wasn't trying. I finally settled on a turquoise tank top and khaki shorts. Nothing dressy, but put together enough to not look like a slob. Was that the fashion statement I was trying to make now? I generally dressed up to go to the grocery store, always wearing makeup, always fixing my hair. That's what Spencer had wanted. He never complimented my efforts, but made the tiniest jabs when my appearance was off. “How come you never wear my favorite dress anymore?” or things like that. Nothing overtly cruel, but enough that I always made an effort to avoid it. Since the breakup, I had continued to take pains to look perfect, hoping that if the outside was okay the inside would eventually catch up.
Only now, as I looked at myself actually trying to be a little less perfect, did I realize that this was me. The me before Spencer. The me who took care of herself but didn't make it a priority. Who was put together without looking like it took hours to get there. How in the world had I let some guy change me in such a shallow way? Change me to the point that I had to try to look natural? For the umpteenth time that day I wondered what I had ever seen in him, why I had wast
ed so much of my life on him. And even though Aaron was just an acquaintance, I couldn't help but notice the difference. With him, I automatically went back to wanting to look like me, to show him my real self. I didn't feel I had to impress him with designer clothes or perfectly applied eye shadow. How ironic that he was the big star, the probable celebrity, and yet he cared less about appearances than my nobody ex-boyfriend.
I had first met Spencer a couple of weeks into freshman year. I was walking back to my dorm after my last class of the day when I heard someone running up behind me. "Hey," he said. "I think you dropped this." I hadn't dropped anything, I was sure. I explained this and kept walking, but he kept up with me, trying the entire way back to my dorm to figure out how he knew me. He was in my freshman seminar class, the semester long orientation they made everyone take, but I didn't let on that I recognized him. The next day he plopped down into the seat beside me in the lecture hall.
"I knew I knew you from somewhere," he said, a sly smile on his face. From then on he sat beside me each class, flirting. He asked for my number the third class, on a date the fifth. I accepted both times. And why not? He was good-looking, funny, and paid a lot of attention to me. We were instantly a couple, and since I didn't really know anyone on campus yet, it became easy to always hang out with him and his friends, of which he had many.
After a few months, though, things started to change. There were fewer dates, more just hanging out with the guys. When we did go out, he often made jabs at my appearance, asking why I'd chosen a certain top, or if he needed to come back later after I'd had time to get ready, when, in my mind, I was. I would be crushed, but instead of standing up to him or ending things, his insults made me want to try harder to be what he wanted. I couldn't describe the pull; it wasn't like me. After the first year I guess I felt I had invested too much to leave. Not that I felt capable of going off on my own: Spencer made sure of that. He said it jokingly, but with every, "What would you do without me?" as he smiled that too-charming smile, I believed him more and more. So much of who I was had become wrapped up in him. I wasn't sure how to extricate myself, how to be more than Spencer Whitten’s girlfriend. And, yet, I wasn't altogether unhappy. These moments were buoyed by fun times and compliments, kisses and cuddles.
Anything Less Than Everything Page 2