anything less than everything 

by Heather Adkins

Chapter 1

The closer I got to my grandmother's house the more I dreaded getting there. Spending a Friday night with my extended family was not my idea of a fun time, especially not when the purpose of the gathering was to make a fuss over some second cousin twice removed that none of us had ever met.

Only a few weeks earlier I would have thought nothing of a Friday night family dinner. Only a few weeks earlier, however, I was not single. When you’re part of a couple, how you spend time on the weekends is of little consequence; when you are not, hanging with the family seems lame. But more than that, the circumstances surrounding my singleness could result in nothing good where my grandmother was concerned. Nana meant well, but had a habit of saying exactly the wrong thing in situations such as this. Not only would I have to endure the embarrassment of her remarks, but now some poor unsuspecting relative would also be subjected to the family drama.

Two months earlier I had celebrated my twenty-third birthday. The celebration was typical: my favorite dinner and presents at my parents' house. The next day, a Thursday, my boyfriend of four years emailed me and asked me to dinner at a fancy place downtown. My heart had pounded as I replied with my acceptance, and I had run immediately to my friend's classroom, only two doors down from my own.

"You're getting a ring," she said, the excitement for me showing on her face. "It's about time."

"Do you really think so? I mean, there have been so many times I thought it was coming before..." And there had. Of the four years we had been a couple, Spencer and I had spent three of them listening to others debate when we would get married. It was what everyone expected, what seemed right.

"But now," Marcie said, jerking me back to the present, "is the perfect time. You're both done with school, you've almost survived your first year of teaching and he has a great job. There are no more reasons to wait."

I thought about her words all the way home. I thought about them while I hurriedly dressed in the black and white floral sheath I had been saving for a special occasion. I thought about it while I waited for Spencer to pick me up and then as I drove myself to the restaurant after he called to say his last meeting had run over and could I just meet him there. The last part messed up my perfect image of how this momentous event should happen, but still the butterflies beat in my stomach, the grin stayed on my face.

Spencer was late. The maitre'd sat me at a quiet table for two and I waited. Twenty minutes and two glasses of water later, he arrived. He looked nervous, something I had taken as a good sign.

"I'm sorry...another meeting," he smiled apologetically.

"It's okay. Those things happen, right?" I had been determined not to let a little waiting ruin the evening. As it turned out, something much worse did.

"So, how was your day?" he asked.

"Actually, it was great!" I gushed.  "J.C, you know, the one I told you about with all of the potential? He shared the most amazing draft with me today. He's turning into such a great writer. And the best part is that he's writing on his own, outside of class. And my second period class had the best discussion over Gatsby..."

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, "what did you say? I was in another world."

I sighed, disappointed that my excitement wasn’t enough to keep his attention. "Um, nothing,” I said. “Just that it was a really good day. How was yours?"

With that he went into a play by play of his own day, recapping every meeting and phone call in great detail. I tried to listen, but quickly started thinking ahead to what might be coming next.

Dessert came. We never ordered dessert, but Spencer had insisted. I moved the berries around my plate, looked under the garnish, wondering if something sparkly was hiding underneath. Nothing. So why was he prolonging dinner? I took a bite of my cheesecake, savoring it. That's when he did it.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his tone changed.

"I thought we'd been talking all night," I answered back playfully.

"I mean seriously."

"Sure. What's up?"

He looked at the remnants of his dessert, his hands, everywhere but at me. "I don't know how to say this. I mean, there's no good way to, I guess."

"Just say it," I prodded, anxious for him to get to it.

"I've been thinking. A lot. About us."

"Yes?"

"Yeah, and I think it's time..." He took a deep breath. This was it! I made myself focus on his words, wanting to make sure I remembered everything about this moment. "...that we move on. You know, to other people."

You could hear my fork clanging on my plate all through the quiet restaurant. I stopped breathing, a fact I became aware of only when I tried to speak and a rush of air came out instead of words. Even if I could have spoken, I had no idea what I would have said.

"Brooke? Talk to me."

I was too shocked to speak, and quite frankly wasn't sure I wanted to say anything to him right then. A full minute went by. Then a second. Finally I found words. "What?" Real articulate.

"Well, we've been growing apart for some time. I think we need space to figure out what it is we each want."

My reply was measured and slow. "You think...we've been...growing...apart?"

"Yeah. I mean, don't you?"

"No...I thought we were closer than ever." I felt like everything that was happening was outside of me. Like it was happening to someone else. Someone else's world was crashing down on them, not mine. I didn't know what to feel. Anger? Sadness? Hurt? I didn't know what to do. I was lost. For four years Spencer had been everything, the person I spent all of my time with, the one I planned my future with in mind. In a matter of a three course meal, that world had shattered. I had been completely blindsided. And so I had done the only thing I could think to do: I pushed myself away from the table, stood up, and walked away.  

"Brooke? Brooke!" he called after me, but I kept walking, never turning back or even pausing. I was immediately relieved we had driven separately. Maybe that had been his plan all along. I got in the car, started it, adjusted the radio, pulled into traffic--all of this robotically, without thinking. It wasn't until I was home, sitting in the driveway of my house, that the gravity of what had just happened hit me. Tears ran down my face, sobs shook my body. I cried until there were no more tears.

Two months had passed since that night, but the memory was still raw, as though it had happened only the day before. And, yet, in some ways it seemed a lifetime ago. I turned into Nana's driveway and consciously forced myself back into the present. I could put on my happy face and be nice to the stranger-relative for one night. It wasn't like I hadn't been putting on a happy face for everyone else--my friends, my family, even my students. As far as any of them were concerned I was just fine. Couldn't be better. I doubted that any of them really believed me, but no one questioned my good mood.

I took a deep breath, braced myself for the worst, hoped for the best, and walked up the steps to face my family.

I was the last one there, a fact made plain when I stepped through the door into a living roomful of expectant faces: Mom and Dad; my sister, Jill; Nana, and Brad the mystery cousin.

That's when I saw him.

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Copyright 2014 by Heather Adkins. May not be reproduced in any way.