A Broken Kind of Life (23 page)

“What looks good?” Aaron asked Spencer as the person in front of Aaron placed his order.

Spencer said quietly, glancing behind him, that he was just going to get a burger and fries. Aaron looked over the board and decided to get chicken strips.

“What’ll it be?” the bored woman on the other side of the counter asked loudly as the boy in front of Aaron moved away.

“We’d like chicken strips and a cheeseburger, both with fries,” Aaron told her, with a smile at Spencer, who relaxed next to him. Aaron understood exactly what it was like to feel self-conscious. He noticed the woman’s stare linger on the scar on his face as he placed his order. If Spencer could keep people from touching him, he could certainly keep Spencer from having to talk out loud to people who would think he was retarded because of his slow speech. It pissed Aaron off, because Spencer was one of the smartest people Aaron knew.

As Aaron had learned in a most brutal way, life wasn’t fair.

Spencer pulled out his wallet and paid for their lunches before Aaron could protest. Spencer signed something at him, but since he didn’t know anything about sign language, he didn’t understand. Then Spencer held up one index finger, indicating that he should wait a minute as they walked to a deserted table near the far wall of the open seating area. As they sat across from each other, Spencer opened his bottle of water and took a long drink, then said, “Sorry. I. Forgot. You. Do. Not. Sign. I. Said. Thanks.”

“Would it make things easier if I did? I…. Could you teach me? I mean, if it would make things better for you,” Aaron rambled, embarrassed by his inability to get his point across. He used to be a damn fine public speaker, but since he rarely spoke to anyone but his mother since that night, the ability seemed to be lost.

Spencer smiled across the table, a quiet, shy kind of smile, and though he looked down for just a moment, Aaron could see that it lit up his face.

“I. Have. Never. Had. A. Friend. Offer. To. Learn. To. Sign. For. Me,” he said quietly over the muted conversations all around them in the cafeteria, conversations that wouldn’t so much as register for Spencer but distracted Aaron.

Hyperaware of everything around him, he glanced behind him every few seconds to make sure no one stood there… watching… waiting for someone to burn him, or… or worse. All of a sudden, Spencer stood up.

“What?” Aaron asked, jerking all the way around in his seat.

“Trade. With. Me,” Spencer said as he pushed his tray to the outside seat.

“What?” Aaron asked again.

“Trade. Places. With. Me. You. Are. So. Jumpy.” Spencer pulled Aaron’s tray across the table to the seat he had vacated just in front of the wall. Aaron moved out of the way so Spencer could take his seat, keeping far enough away so not even their fingers touched. Though, if he were completely honest with himself, Aaron wanted to let them. He wanted to see if he could touch Spencer like he had that first night of therapy. He missed the comfort and encouragement that could be found in someone else’s touch. The idea shocked him.

Spencer probably would have been horrified.

Aaron ate in silence, his mind spinning around the image in his head. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself reaching out to touch Spencer’s hand. The murmur in the room ceased to register with Aaron, and time stopped as his hand almost itched to move. He could feel the warm, soft skin of Spencer’s hand under his fingers, and it made his pulse race. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face and rolled cold down the back of his neck.

“Hey. Man. Are. You. Okay?” Spencer asked, breaking the spell of his daydream, and Aaron flushed.

Humiliated and ashamed, Aaron closed his hand tightly into a fist around his empty pop can and pushed his tray away, suddenly nauseated. What had he been thinking? The dull tabletop, the rubbery food, the chaotic chatter in the room, nothing had changed, but Aaron felt like his world had tipped on its axis. All he’d done was think about touching another boy’s hand, and he could no longer function. He couldn’t bring himself to contemplate what that meant, but it broke his heart nonetheless.

“Aaron?”

Aaron looked up, tears trying to form at the corners of his eyes. The burn in his throat told him that his body wanted to let loose and sob right there at the lunchroom table. He could feel the ache in his chest threatening to burst from him, but something held it in. Careful not to touch him, Spencer pulled the soda can from Aaron’s hand before the sharp edges of the crushed aluminum cut his skin.

“You. Know. You. Can. Talk. To. Me. Too. Right? I. Will. Not. Tell. My. Dad. If. You. Do. Not. Want. Me. To.” Spencer’s face showed such care and concern that Aaron nearly told him about wanting to touch his hand, but then couldn’t force the words out. What did it say about him that, after being brutally raped by a group of guys, he wanted to then touch one? Getting morning wood made him want to throw up. He shook his head, almost violently, and pushed his food away, unable to get the image of touching Spencer from his mind, no matter how much it nauseated him.

T
HERAPY
with Dr. Thomas was different from anything he’d ever experienced with another shrink. It felt like, since his therapist put the responsibility on him to get better, Aaron just seemed to try harder. Dr. Thomas wanted to make him better for Spencer. Though he had to admit that Spencer’s father had him intrigued about the different methods the man could teach him to control his freak attacks.

“I can’t believe that part of my therapy involves playing video games,” Aaron said as the game loaded on Spencer’s huge flat-panel television. Spencer continued to look directly at him as his leg bounced against the couch cushion beneath it. Music came on for the game, and Aaron looked up, but Spencer didn’t turn his head, and it took a second for Aaron to remember that he couldn’t hear it. He selected a character, and after a minute, Spencer did the same.

“Having. Something. To. Distract. You. From. Your. Head. Helps,” Spencer said as he picked the mushroom car, which sucked for speed but worked well on the rainbow course because it was less likely to throw you off the side.

Aaron had picked up all the tricks over the last few days playing with Spencer. He thought maybe he could even go home and kick his brothers’ asses at it after a while. Playing with Spencer was so easy because, while he lost as often as he won, Spencer took everything in stride. No gloating when he won and no tantrums when he lost. Aaron liked that Spencer was so even-tempered; it made his “therapy” easier.

Dr. Thomas had also suggested movies, books, surfing the web, and something Aaron hadn’t really considered—doing something he enjoyed before the attack. The one thing he thought he might be able to do was soccer. With no physical contact, it might be easy to get Anthony to go in the back yard and kick around the ball with him for a while. Aaron liked the sunshine, and playing soccer gave him a reason to be outside. Before the whole world changed around him, Aaron used to love the outdoors.

“Damn. It!” Spencer cried suddenly, and Aaron tried hard not to laugh as his friend went over the side of the track. “I. Always. Screw. Up. On. That. Part.”

With Spencer’s attention on the screen, Aaron couldn’t tell him that he had the same problem. The only thing Aaron could do was slow quickly and round the same corner, narrowly staying on the track to take the lead. The steering wheel slipped in his sweaty hands as he crossed the line and started the second round with a huge burst of power-up speed and a weapon in his arsenal. He hated using the shell torpedo things against Spencer, but that was all part of the game.

“You. Just. Wait. Until. I. Get. That. Spiked. Shell,” Spencer warned, and even though he knew his friend couldn’t hear him, Aaron laughed.

He felt freer than he had since that dark night, and for once, he was okay with it. For whatever reason, Dr. Thomas thought playing video games would help him, so he’d allow himself just a little slack. In the end, maybe he could take some of the pressure off his mother by being a functioning human being.

The game continued for the next several minutes, Aaron and Spencer sharing first place all the way though the game. When the final flag flew, Aaron stood victorious, but in the overall standings, Spencer took first place for the cup. He tossed the controller off to the side of the couch and fell back against the cushions. Turning his head, Spencer smiled at Aaron.

“That. Was. Fun. I. Usually. Have. To. Play. By. Myself.” Even with the slow pace, Aaron could still hear the sadness in his friend’s voice. He wondered what life must have been like for Spencer growing up, always being different, not having brothers or sisters. In school, Aaron had had a lot of friends. His high school wasn’t that big, so he knew most of the people in his class, and there were always friends at his house. Aaron hated that he’d taken that away from his brothers. Because they could never be sure what would set him off, they never brought friends home. The house used to be full of light and laughter, but after his attack, it was all darkness, fear, and anger. At least, that’s how it felt to him.

Distraction.

“Did you go to a special school for deaf kids?” His voice shook slightly, and he wondered if Spencer saw the desperation in his face. Grabbing one of the throw pillows from the couch, Aaron wrapped his arms around it. It didn’t replace the feeling of someone holding him, helping to hold all the emotions in, but the knot in his chest loosened just a little.

Spencer held up one finger, asking Aaron to wait just a moment, and left the room. The silence enveloped Aaron, and his leg bounced so hard that he actually heard his socked heel hitting the carpeted floor. It was a nearly inaudible thumping, which reminded him of a wild heartbeat. He focused on the sound and nothing else. The thoughts slamming into his brain about how much better his parents and his brothers would be without him were pushed aside so he could narrow in entirely on that sound. He sped up the bouncing and heard the sound speed up too. He forced himself to slow it down, and the sound slowed as well. He controlled the movements, making a kind of song, distracting himself until Spencer came back. His friend had only been out of the room for a few minutes, but the room seemed to have no air in it.

“I. Put. In. Some. Egg. Rolls. To. Snack. On,” Spencer said as he walked back through the door. He couldn’t see the way Aaron had to force himself to breathe, or that the throw pillow was dangerously close to an early demise in the boy’s trembling hands. He didn’t seem to see the droplets of sweat bead down the side of his face in the otherwise cool room. Spencer simply picked up their laptops from the desk and went back to the couch. Handing Aaron’s to him, Spencer opened his and logged on.

SPENCER:
It is easier to talk this way
.

He looked up to see the distress on his friend’s face, and Aaron saw him catch his hand as he reached for Aaron.

SPENCER:
You need to breathe, Aaron. Just like Dad taught you. Slow, deep breaths
.

Aaron closed his eyes and forced the image of himself hanging from the garage rafters from his mind. Opening them again, he focused on Spencer’s face and noticed that Spencer was breathing very slowly, trying to encourage him. Aaron took a deep breath and lost himself in Spencer’s pale skin. He didn’t think he’d ever noticed that Spencer had tiny little freckles over his nose and the tops of his cheeks. The green in his eyes stood out more than the specks of brown with the hunter-green Grateful Dead T-shirt he wore today. Other colors were prominently featured in the shirt, but the collar and shoulders were a deep green. He found it interesting that Spencer’s eyes changed color. Aaron’s eyes were always exactly the same color of blue, or so he thought. He didn’t look at himself anymore.

SPENCER:
No, I did not go to a special school. My dad thought it would be better to mainstream me with other kids. In some ways, he was right. I was forced to live life like a hearing person, which gave me skills that I needed, but no one wanted to be friends with the deaf retard.

AARON:
That had to be hard
.

Talking to Spencer helped because his death seemed to be harder to see. The rope wasn’t gleaming white in the otherwise darkened garage. The bluish tinge to his skin had faded.

SPENCER:
I was in an afterschool program for deaf kids at the community center off Grand Ave., so I had friends there. We felt more comfortable with each other, much more comfortable than hearing kids felt with us. They were not all mean. A lot of them just did not know how to approach me, or what questions they could ask
.

AARON:
I know what it’s like to have no friends. Before, I had a lot of friends. I guess I was one of the popular kids, whatever that means. But after, I couldn’t stand for people to look at me. It freaked me out completely when Mayer said that I’d have to have a project partner this term. I figured I’d get a Barbie doll who would have to go puke every time she looked at me
.

SPENCER:
Damn, Aaron. I never thought that about you, and I bet you are imagining most of the reactions that you get. When I saw you that first time, I wondered what the hell could have happened to you to make you act like that just from a hand on your shoulder. I wanted to help you
.