Anything Less Than Everything

by Adkins, Heather

  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.

  Chapter 10

  “Hey, 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.

  Chapter 11

  I ignored my phone when it rang that night. No way was I going to let him breakup with me again. Breaking up wasn’t really the right word, of course, but I didn’t know what else to call it. He called again thirty minutes later, and though it took everything within me to not answer it, I didn’t. True to form, he texted me instead of leaving a voicemail. Hey Brooke. Give me a call when you get in.

  Yeah, right. There was no way I was calling him. Every wound that had healed in the past months ripped open, every bit of self-doubt I’d felt reemerged.

  I wanted to be mad, not sad, but my heart was broken. Tears were coursing down my face by the time he sent the next text: Brooke? Not like you not to text back. Everything okay? Please call me.

  The next one came at midnight: Seriously worried. PLEASE call me!!!!!

  I caved, but I told myself it was only because he wouldn’t stop until I did. Yeah, right.

  “Hey,” he answered. “Is everything okay? I usually hear from you before now.”

  “I was busy,” I said flatly.

  “Oh. Well, how was your day?”

  “What do you want, Aaron?” Last night he was all “see you around”; now he was calling to chat?

  He sounded truly confused. “Um, to talk to you? Like I do every night?”

  “That’s not what you said you wanted last night. I wish you’d decide. In case I didn’t mention it, I don’t plan my life around others anymore.” My voice caught on the last words. Aaron was the reason I no longer lived the life others wanted me to. He helped me see my own strength. And now I’d lost it, through no fault of my own.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Brooke?” He sounded equal parts angry and hurt. Good. I felt the same way. “I never said--”

  “Check your sent messages,” I told him. “Maybe that will refresh your memory.” I ended the call with that, then powered down my phone before he called back and I lost all resolve.

  I didn’t really sleep that night, and it showed when I got to work the next morning.

  “Brooke, honey? What in the world is wrong with you?” I normally liked Caryn’s candor, but I was not in the mood to discuss the previous day with anyone.

  “Please,” I said, “not now.”

  “Was it the ex-boyfriend?” she asked, following me into the back room and ignoring my request as I locked my purse in the desk drawer. I shook my head. “The new guy?” I didn’t respond, which she took as the yes it was. “What’d he do?” I sighed and told her the whole sordid tale, starting with the pictures Marcie showed me.

  “Did he have an excuse?” she asked.

  “He acted like he had no idea what I was talking about. Like he didn’t remember sending those texts.”

  “Okay, Brooke, you’re losing me.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he was trashed and doesn’t remember doing it.” Except Aaron never got trashed. Caryn gave me a look, no doubt seeing the wavering in my eyes. I shook my head to clear it; after what had happened, I didn’t trust anything I thought I knew about him.

  “Brooke, h
oney, I know you’re hurt. I know you’re mad. But something isn’t adding up here. Now you know I have no problem with throwing a man out on his you know what, and you know I have had reservations about whatever you and this Aaron have going on, but I think you need to talk to him.” I shot her a look that could freeze beer.

  “Are you on his side?” I asked, furious.

  “No, I’m not. But I’m trying to be on the side of reason. Brooke, if everything you’ve told me about this boy is true, then I cannot imagine him doing this to you.”

  “Yeah, well, I couldn’t imagine it either. But it happened.”

  “Talk to him. That’s your task for the day.” I arched an eyebrow at her, not following. “I’m your boss, and that is what I am telling you to do today. Now you’re more than welcome to use the phone back here, but you’d probably be more comfortable in the privacy of your apartment.”

  “You’re serious...”

  “As a heart attack. Now go. Don’t come back until there’s a resolution to this conflict. I don’t care what you decide, but figure it all out.” I still couldn’t decide if she was serious, but I dug my keys from my purse and started walking towards the front door anyway, checking back over my shoulder several times to see if she was going to start laughing and call me back. She didn’t.

  When I got back inside my apartment, I finally powered my phone back up. As expected, I had several texts and voicemails from Aaron. What did surprise me (maybe), was that he didn’t get tired or bored and give up during the night. The last text was from just a couple of hours earlier. It read: I will NOT lose you over this. Please call me.

  I did. None of the messages made excuses or tried to make light of my feelings. Something about that made me want to at least hear his side of things. But I also knew that no matter what, I had to prepare myself for the fact that Aaron now had another girl in his life, one who probably wouldn’t appreciate her boyfriend spending hours on the phone with another woman.