Survivor Stories

by J P Barnaby

  He sat next to Aaron and pulled his plate closer just to keep an arm from going around his friend, who looked so lost Spencer couldn’t bear to see it.

  “Hey, Spencer, are you….” The rest of the older boy’s statement was lost to Spencer as he crammed a handful of french fries into his mouth. He looked at Aaron, who studied his food like he had an exam on it later that night.

  “Allen, for God’s sake, swallow before you talk,” Mrs. Downing said after setting her plate at one of the heads of the table. Mr. Downing put his plate at the other and affectionately bumped his middle son on the head with his hand.

  “Allen, he has to read your lips. He can’t understand you if your mouth is crammed full of food. Show some respect,” Aaron admonished and finally looked up, and for a long moment the entire family stood perfectly still, frozen in place as they stared at Aaron. He had no idea what was happening, but remained quiet until the moment passed.

  “I’m sorry. I just asked if you were a programming major like Aaron,” Allen said with an empty mouth and a glance at his older brother.

  Aaron didn’t talk much during dinner, but he did put in a few words every now and then, mostly in response to something Spencer had said. Even Spencer could tell he was making a sincere effort to be social. It made things so much easier. While he still felt a little self-conscious when he spoke, no one at the table batted an eye at the way he must have sounded. Living with Aaron and his panic attacks, they must be used to people being different.

  They had accepted him effortlessly into their lives, and he couldn’t tell them how much that meant.

  After dinner, Allen and Anthony went back to their game, but not before reminding Aaron they had four controllers and asking if Spencer and Aaron would play too. Spencer took one look at Aaron’s tired and drawn face and decided maybe he should go. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and play games with Aaron and his brothers, but he could see Aaron had hit his social limit for the day.

  “Maybe. I. Can. Come. Back. And. Play. Sometime.,” he told Allen with a meaningful look at Aaron, who was staring passively at the floor.

  “You’re welcome anytime,” Mrs. Downing told him with a hand on his shoulder and a quick look at her eldest son. The longing in her face was unmistakable. Please come back. Please be a good friend to him. Please, just… please.

  Spencer followed Aaron to the front door, away from the boisterous activity of the house. Picking up his shoes, he sat on the stairs leading up to the second floor as he put them on. Aaron shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited with Spencer’s book bag in his hand.

  “Thank you,” he told Spencer as he handed him the bag. Even through his deafness, Spencer heard so much in those two words, and he understood. Friends were hard for him too, and he knew he had made one of the best of his life that night, simply for knowing when not to push.

  Twelve

  AARON: NO, we need to turn this into an object and use an instance. We can reuse it for other kinds of messages.

  SPENCER: How?

  AARON: By making the API names and local file names properties of the object.

  SPENCER: That’s fucking brilliant! Have you heard anything from Mayer?

  AARON: Oh yeah, he e-mailed me earlier, and we have a green light. He said he’s “intrigued.”

  SPENCER: Hell yeah!

  AARON: The e-mail he sent you is probably sitting in your school account. You know, the one you never ever check?

  Aaron laughed, which he had done more and more often over the past week. In fact, it was starting to feel normal rather than foreign. Spencer was a great partner, bright and efficient, and was turning out to be a great friend as well. They hadn’t talked any more about their pasts after dinner with his family, but they were starting to learn each other’s eccentricities. Aaron knew, for example, that Spencer got very frustrated having to sit in the back of the class. His interpreter was a distraction to the other students, and he favored lip reading anyway. He felt like a spectacle, but the school administration had forced the interpreter on him in an effort to avoid any appearance of discrimination. What he really wanted was for the instructors to use voice recognition software, but the school said they weren’t going to burden their professors with the time it takes to train the software with their voices, not when there were interpreters available.

  After all—it was Spencer’s problem, not theirs.

  Spencer, on the other hand, had learned that if it looked like rain, he needed to take careful notes for his friend. He’d once asked Aaron about it, but Aaron couldn’t adequately explain why he just couldn’t get out of bed when it looked like it could storm.

  Aaron felt their project was going very well so far. They had coded all the back-end classes, error handling, and security. It had been accessed through a very simple command line interface, but they were to the point now where they needed to work on a pretty user interface. After that, they could put it on the Internet and start beta testing.

  AARON: We’re going to have to do this part in person. Do you want to stay in the lab for a while?

  SPENCER: We can’t. There is another class after this one.

  AARON: I don’t want to go into the main lab. Do you want to come over to my house?

  SPENCER: Well, my house is quieter, and my desktop is better for interface work. It will be easier to see the design on my huge monitors. There’s more space to work than on a laptop.

  Aaron looked at his friend as he sat next to him in the lab. This was a big step for Aaron, and they both knew it. What if something happened? Spencer was right about his computer at home, though. It just made more sense to go to Spencer’s. Aaron could bring his laptop and work from anywhere.

  AARON: Okay, give me your address and I’ll see if my mom can drop me off there.

  SPENCER: I can take you, and I’ll bring you home. It’s not a big deal. Then your mom doesn’t need to bother.

  AARON: I thought your dad dropped you off at my house. You can drive? How can you do that if you can’t hear?

  SPENCER: I’m deaf, not blind.

  Spencer chuckled and shook his head as Aaron grabbed his phone from his laptop bag. Sending a quick text message to his mom, telling her that Spencer would bring him home later, he was unsurprised when she asked him to e-mail the address. He had Spencer send the e-mail, and he forwarded it to his mom, who told him to have fun. She was probably beside herself knowing Aaron had a friend and he was going someplace that wasn’t home or school. The fact that he was comfortable enough with Spencer to go to his house spoke volumes about their relationship.

  Aaron followed Spencer out of the building and across the parking lot to a shiny midnight blue two-seater sports car. Aaron, who knew little about cars, just stood and gaped at it as Spencer hit the button to unlock it.

  “My. Dad. Is. Loaded.,” Spencer said with a smirk, walking around the car and getting in on the driver’s side. Aaron got in on the passenger side after setting his laptop bag carefully behind the seat. Buckling up, he grinned at Spencer, who looked absolutely at home behind the wheel of his car. He could tell Spencer cherished this car by the way Spencer caressed the leather-encased steering wheel as he started the engine.

  “See. This.?” Spencer asked, pointing to a small display on the dashboard. Aaron nodded, and Spencer honked the horn to make lights flash on the little box. “It. Is. A. Sound. Sensor.,” Spencer explained, and honked again. Aaron saw the display light up again, and then faced Spencer so his friend could see his face.

  “So, if there is a loud noise like a horn or a siren, it will light up?” Aaron asked in a slow, enunciated way so Spencer would have little trouble reading his lips. His natural inclination was to talk louder, but that just seemed silly since Spencer couldn’t hear him no matter how loud he talked. Spencer nodded and looked carefully behind him before pulling out of the space.

  “Most. Deaf. People. Do Not. Use. This., But. My. Dad. Wanted. Me. To. Have. One.,” Spencer said, threading
his way carefully through the parking lot. “Most. People. Are. Just. Really. Careful..” They drove for about twenty minutes in the opposite direction from Aaron’s house, until they came to an obviously affluent subdivision. Spencer pulled into the gated community. The gates were open and there didn’t seem to be any sign of a guard, which made Aaron wonder why there were gates in the first place. Winding through curved roads and bypassing cul-de-sacs, Spencer finally pulled into the driveway of a huge copper-colored house with floor to ceiling windows in the front and a large two-car garage. It seemed Spencer wasn’t kidding when he said his dad was well-off.

  Aaron trailed behind as Spencer grabbed his bag and headed for the house. Completely out of his element for the first time in a long time, he was reluctant to go in. There was no way for him to know who was in the house, and he really wasn’t up for meeting new people today, not after being in a strange place. Spencer noticed his hesitation and stopped halfway up the drive.

  “Just. Me. And. My. Dad.,” Spencer said as he waited for Aaron to join him. Slowly, Aaron walked forward and followed his friend as Spencer unlocked the door and entered the house. The foyer was easily the size of his brother Anthony’s bedroom, and twice as grand. The polished marble floor, which seemed to go on forever, was hidden only slightly by a small oriental rug just in front of the door. Spencer stood on the rug as he removed his shoes and set them just inside the coat closet to his left. As Aaron looked around at the stylish table, huge gilded mirror, and umbrella stand that occupied the space, Spencer looked at him pointedly. Aaron furrowed his brow at Spencer’s expression, but then realized he needed to take his shoes off too. The vulnerability made him shudder inside, but he did it anyway.

  Spencer took Aaron on a silent tour of his home, starting in a grand parlor room with beautiful antique furniture, through the spacious kitchen that Aaron’s mother would probably give him up for adoption to cook in, and then to his father’s study. This was probably the most impressive room Aaron had ever seen, with the floor to ceiling bookcases under glass, the huge mahogany desk, and the leather sofa along the back wall. It looked like the study of a bestselling author or a college professor. Finally, Spencer led Aaron to a rec room at the back of the huge first floor, where he found a giant flat-panel TV and a rack of video game systems. Next to the rack, he saw a variety of video game accessories, including band equipment. Aaron thought it was a really odd thing for a deaf kid to want to play, but if it made Spencer happy, it was okay with him. Aaron loved to play video games. Or at least, he had. Aaron hadn’t picked up a guitar, or even a controller in so long, he’d probably lost the ability to play.

  As they walked into the room, Aaron saw a messy desk along the right-hand wall, underneath a huge bay window. The computer sat to the side of two large flat-panel monitors and a sophisticated-looking microphone. He noticed with mild surprise that there were also speakers on the desk. Spencer walked up to the desk and turned the machine on, pulling up a chair from a nearby table for Aaron. Aaron sat down and pulled his laptop out of his bag. As he did, Spencer handed him a piece of paper with a handwritten code.

  AAVER-1681A-HH5H-87892-HRNB

  “Network. Key.,” Spencer said, and Aaron quickly configured his laptop for Spencer’s home network. Then he logged into his chat client.

  AARON: Okay, did you have anything in mind for the interface?

  SPENCER: Something eye-catching and easy to use. We can check out that control set Dr. Mayer told us about. They have some really nice free controls.

  AARON: Black background with some neon, I think—purple, or blue?

  SPENCER: Cool.

  They spent the next hour structuring an interface and building the controls on screen until they both agreed on the design. It was lightweight, flexible, and visually appealing. Aaron and Spencer were both very pleased with the way their project was progressing. They would be finished far ahead of the deadline, and thought they might score extra points by actually offering the capability to download and use the program in a production environment. They were about to send their first test message from the interface when a chat window popped up on Spencer’s screen.

  DAD: Can you help me with dinner? Your friend is staying, right?

  SPENCER: We are having pizza, and he needs for me to make the crust. Do you want to come hang out in the kitchen with us?

  Aaron hesitated. He really wasn’t up for much more excitement today. He had pretty much reached his limit for new experiences and didn’t want to have to face Spencer’s dad. It seemed that Spencer understood.

  SPENCER: You don’t have to. You can hang out in here and work on the program. We can eat in here too. He’ll want to meet you at some point because you’re my friend, but it doesn’t have to be today.

  AARON: Thanks for understanding.

  SPENCER: No problem. I’m not keen on meeting new people either. What do you want on your pizza? I’m sure we have sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, green pepper, and onion. Anything else, I’ll have to scrounge for.

  AARON: Sausage and pepperoni would be fantastic.

  SPENCER: Okay, I’ll be back in a bit.

  Aaron’s gaze followed Spencer as he left, and then traveled around the huge room. It seemed that everything a teenage boy could possibly ask for resided in this room. He moved over to the leather couch and considered turning on the gaming system, but his eyes were starting to hurt from staring at the screen for so long. Leaning back into the plush leather, he closed them for a second, trying to stave off the headache he could feel coming. The aquarium set in the wall behind the couch was massive, and the sound of water bubbling soothed Aaron’s nerves. Listening to the soft, melodious aquatic sounds, he turned, sitting sideways on the couch so he could watch the dozens of fish swimming carelessly through the predefined space. He wished he could be one of those fish, with no fear, no expectations, just swimming and eating and enjoying life.

  Staring at the aquarium, he had no idea how long it had been since Spencer left the room, but he was content. The brightly colored rocks and plants that lined the bottom of the tank contrasted with the brilliant blue water. It appeared blue, at least, but Aaron was pretty sure there was a blue lining on the back of the tank and the water was actually clear. It didn’t matter. He watched as a bright yellow and white fish swam down behind one of the plants.

  Then someone clamped down on his shoulder, and he screamed. His mind spiraled, and he tried to jerk away from his attacker. Falling sideways off the couch to get away from the person who wanted to hurt him, he slammed his head on the corner of the coffee table and went into a full-blown panic as blood began to pour down his face.

  He heard yelling and footsteps, but the blood was on his neck. It was coming from his neck. This time he wouldn’t survive. He was going to die.

  “Aaron!” a strong voice commanded. It was a voice he did not recognize. He looked up and, through the haze of the garage, saw Spencer huddled against the wall, terrified. No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t met Spencer until after. How could he be in the garage? How could he be there while they were trying to kill him?

  “Aaron, do you see what is in this room? There is a big TV, an aquarium, a desk. Do you see these things, Aaron?” the voice asked sternly. Aaron stared around wildly and wondered what kind of a question that was. Of course he could see what was in the room. “Tell me what you see.”

  “Computer… guitar… couch….” Aaron choked out, confused. He just wanted to huddle into a ball, just hide until his mother came. His mother always came. But the garage had faded, and the flashback started to recede back into the vault of memories from whence it had come. He was back in the present with a T-shirt pressed against his head and a man crouched on one knee in front of him. It was the fastest Aaron had ever been able to recover from a flashback. He looked at the man, who was remarkably like Spencer. Spencer’s father didn’t have Spencer’s soft curls. In fact, his graying brown hair was cut in almost a military fashion, but his eyes were the same. They were just
as warm, just as enigmatic as Spencer’s hazel eyes.

  He didn’t know what to do next, so Aaron just asked simply, “How did you know?” The question asked so many different things at once. How did he know about Aaron’s flashback? How did he know what to do to help him? How did he seem to know so much about Aaron’s condition if they’d never met?

  “I. Told. You. My. Dad. Was. A. Shrink.. Right.?” Spencer asked rapidly, his face reddening with guilt as he moved a little closer to where Aaron sat bleeding on the floor.

  Well, that explained a few things for Aaron, but for some reason that automatic skepticism that usually came when he considered therapy or shrinks was strangely absent. Spencer’s father moved back now that Aaron was calm, and sat on the coffee table watching him.

  “Can I look at the cut on your head first, and then we can talk?” he asked, pulling the T-shirt away from Aaron’s forehead. “It doesn’t look deep. Let me clean it up and put a Band-Aid or two on it. I’m going to guess you’re not too fond of hospitals or doctors?”

  Aaron shook his head, amazed at the man’s insight. The problem, as Aaron saw it, was, how was Spencer’s father going to clean up his wound and bandage it without touching him? He couldn’t stand for his own mother to touch him, let alone some strange man.

  “Are. You. Okay.?” Spencer asked slowly, sitting next to him on the floor as his father left the room to get what he would need to clean the cut. The concern in those soft hazel eyes touched Aaron. This guy, the one who had never met the pre-attack Aaron, had really become someone Aaron could rely on. Spencer was his first real friend.