Survivor Stories

by J P Barnaby

  “I know the paperwork and security stuff is tedious. Thankfully, you won’t ever have to do it again. Come on, the team is ready to meet you so we can take you out to lunch. It’s a tradition,” Eric said and then led Spencer around yet another corner until the hallway opened up to cubicles and a breathtaking view of the city.

  Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off the view for a minute, until Eric touched his arm to get his attention.

  “This is your workstation,” he said, indicating the cubicle in front of the window. Spencer stood in the wide, empty space and looked around. Two long counters met in the corner nearest the window and supported two huge thirty-plus-inch monitors with a wireless keyboard and mouse combo in front of them. The counters were empty otherwise and appeared to house two filing cabinets beneath them. Functional and immense, the area would work well for programming if he didn’t get too terribly distracted by the view.

  “Nice.”

  “Your log-in credentials are in the welcome packet HR gave you, and we’ve already added you to the team server for Visual Studio, so you have code access.” Something over Spencer’s shoulder caught Eric’s attention, but Spencer stayed focused on him rather than turn around and miss what he said. “Hey, Claramel, this is our new technical lead, Spencer. He’s going to be heading up your new project. You know, with the social media integration?”

  Spencer turned to see a long-haired brunette with kind brown eyes smiling at him. He smiled back, feeling shy. Eric knew about his deafness, but Spencer didn’t know if he’d told the rest of the team.

  “Hi., It. Is. Nice. To. Meet. You.,” he said with a small wave, then cocked his head and asked, “Did. He. Say. Your. Name. Was. ‘Caramel.’?”

  She shook her head with an amused glance at Eric and reached over to the desk behind his to grab a pen. She pulled a piece of paper from the printer tray, wrote down “Claramel,” and handed it to him.

  “My name is Clare Melina. Eric makes up nicknames for everyone, and mine, for some stupid reason, is ‘ClaraMel.’ Probably because he’s a child.” She jerked her head in Eric’s direction, and Eric laughed. They stood, not talking for a moment, as Clare rocked on her heels, like standing still was painful. Except for the long hair and feminine silhouette, she might have been a guy the way she was dressed: khaki pants, polo shirt, and brown leather lace-up shoes. But it didn’t matter to him. She didn’t laugh when he talked, and she had a nice smile.

  “We all have chat installed now. I sent you a list of our information so you can add us to your list,” she continued without missing a beat. He smiled, a feeling of hope rising in his chest like the tide.

  “That. Was. Very. Kind… It. Will. Help. Me. A. Lot… Thank. You….”

  “No big. Eric, the rest of the guys already went over to the Village to get a table. I told them we’d meet them.”

  “The. Village.?” Spencer asked.

  “You like Italian?” Clare asked, and he nodded. “Sweet. The Village is the Italian Village over on Monroe. Kinda ritzy place but awesome food. Eric treats us on special occasions, like this one.” Clare held a hand out, and Spencer followed Eric back toward the elevators.

  So far he’d been there for three hours, hadn’t gotten a thing done, was heading out for a free lunch, and was getting paid for it. Jobs were awesome.

  AARON SAT at his desk cleaning up pieces of source code and packaging them for the transfer to Spencer’s new boss. Spencer had access to the source code too, but Aaron took particular pride in cleaning out all the stupid little comments they’d made to each other and variable names like dumbassMessage, which the program threw when someone entered something they shouldn’t, or the fuckingCounter he’d named when he kept trying and failing to get the right number, only to realize that arrays have a zero-based index. The tedious little task kept the constant refrain He’s gone from playing in head, or the unrelenting stab of loneliness that made his chest throb with an ache he’d thought he’d finally escaped.

  He’d just finished finding all of the instances of his shortcut declarations and writing them more formally when his chat window dinged, startling him. Because it loaded automatically when his computer booted, Aaron had completely forgotten about it. The lonely feeling in his chest lightened a fraction because his chat list consisted only of Spencer.

  [Spencer] You there?

  [Aaron] Yeah, I was cleaning up the code. Aren’t you working?

  [Spencer] The rest of the team installed chat so they could talk to me. I can talk to you whenever I want.

  [Aaron] Really?

  [Spencer] Yeah, they have a proxy, but I’m bouncing off an anonymous proxy so they can’t read my chat. We can talk about anything.

  [Aaron] LOL You’re going to get fired before you ever get started.

  [Spencer] Nope. Besides, I miss you.

  [Aaron] I miss you too. It doesn’t matter that I just saw you last night.

  [Spencer] I’m surprised you remember I was there. You were kind of out of it.

  [Aaron] I know. I just couldn’t handle you leaving.

  [Spencer] I didn’t leave. I’m still right here.

  [Aaron] We’ll see.

  [Spencer] What does that mean?

  [Aaron] I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now. Maybe the next time you’re home.

  [Spencer] Okay. And I’ll be home in two weeks for Labor Day weekend. We have Friday and Monday off, so I’ll be with you for four days.

  [Aaron] And we can talk on chat?

  [Spencer] We can talk on chat every day, and text. Whatever you want.

  [Aaron] How’s your new job?

  [Spencer] Cool. They took me out to lunch, and then we got together and talked about where they wanted to take Spaaron. Only for them, it’s plug-in 15.1 not Spaaron. :)

  [Aaron] Anybody give you crap about being deaf?

  [Spencer] No, actually, they’ve been great about it. We’ll see how that goes.

  [Aaron] Meet any hot guys?

  [Spencer] None hotter than you.

  [Aaron] Slim pickins, then?

  [Spencer] Shut up.

  [Aaron] :-P

  [Spencer] I wish. :)

  Aaron laughed, a sound he would have thought impossible since the moment Spencer told him about the move. They talked for the rest of the afternoon, until five o’clock rolled around, Spencer left work, and Aaron was alone again. Spencer treated their separation as something temporary, but Aaron didn’t understand that. He’d never had a job, but he knew you didn’t just walk away from a career. While Spencer worked for that company, he’d live downtown, and Aaron couldn’t handle living in a city full of people. At some point Spencer would realize that their separation would be permanent—then it would really go downhill. After shutting down his laptop, he sat back in the chair with his hands behind his head and wondered how long it would take until Spencer realized it too. Dr. Thomas told him no obstacle was impassable with work and imagination, but his brain could not come up with a scenario to overcome Spencer’s absence.

  Instead he pushed back from the desk and stood up. No use thinking about it, because it would be a long road ahead, and dinner wouldn’t make itself. Grandma Alice had another hospital appointment for some kind of test, and Aaron had promised to take care of dinner for the family. He could do it. How hard could it be to put a pan in the oven and make boxed macaroni and cheese, maybe open a can of vegetables, and get it all on the table? His mother had already put all the spices and stuff on the pork chops before leaving them in the refrigerator with a note as to what temperature and for how long he should bake them. Then she left detailed instructions on macaroni and cheese, because apparently he couldn’t read the instructions on the box. He was surprised she hadn’t given him instructions on how to open a can of peas and put them in a pan. She had so much other stuff on her mind; she didn’t need to baby them too.

  In the kitchen, he followed the instructions to the letter for the pork chops and then pulled one of his mom’s ton of cookbooks down fro
m the shelf where they sat collecting dust and opened it up. He had about half an hour before he had to start the water for the macaroni, so he flipped through, trying to figure out something they could have the next night. His mom’s meatloaf recipe was handwritten on a small index card and stuck between the pages. He liked that. Maybe he’d do that. Reading through the ingredients list, he wondered if they had all that stuff. Seriously, bread crumbs? There were bread crumbs in meatloaf? It took him forever to search the pantry and cabinets for the stuff on the list. Amazed to find they had everything, he happened to glance at the clock as he made some mental notes on the recipe.

  Shit!

  The water should have gone on ten minutes before. He hurried to grab a pot and fill it up. Fabulous, he’d fucked it up on his very first day.

  “Hey, what did that pan do to you?” Allen asked as Aaron slammed the pan onto the stove and went to the pantry for a couple of cans of peas. They were hiding on the middle shelf behind enough ketchup to feed an army. With three hungry boys, his mother must shop in bulk. In the span of thirty seconds, he became a contortionist and got the two cans from behind their condiment guard.

  “Nothing. I was trying to figure out what to have for dinner tomorrow night so Mom wouldn’t have to, and I didn’t put the macaroni on in time. Now the pork chops will be cold by the time the macaroni is done because I can’t do anything fucking right.”

  “Dude, just turn the oven down. That’s what Mom does. They’ll stay warm enough, and we can finish up the rest.” Allen walked over to the sink and opened one of the drawers to his right. After pulling out the can opener, he held it up in triumph and then used it to open each can of peas.

  “See, no muss no fuss,” he said as he dumped the mushy little green balls into the saucepan Aaron had found.

  “She just does so much for me, I want to do something for her,” Aaron admitted, his voice a bit sheepish after his explosion of anger at the mislaid dinner plans. He leaned up against the counter watching Allen turn on the burner and put just a bit of oil into the water for the macaroni.

  “How do you know how to cook?” Aaron asked with real interest. His mother had never so much as asked them to make frozen pizza, though they had on countless occasions. Since she didn’t work, Aaron got the feeling his mother excelled at caring for them to make up for her lack of monetary contribution. Aaron could have told her she needn’t have bothered. They wouldn’t have traded her for anything extra money would have bought them.

  “First, because I pay attention,” Allen said with a smirk. “Second, because Mom has been going through some of it with me so that I don’t starve while I’m at college. I have a meal plan, but she just wants me to be prepared. How is it that you don’t?” He laughed until the look on Aaron’s face stopped it cold.

  “Because I’m a narcissistic prick who only thinks of himself.”

  “That isn’t true, Aaron. And you’re not getting out of making dinner by getting all depressed and hiding in your room.”

  “I….” Almost as soon as the darkness descended on him, it lifted against the grin on his brother’s face. “Fine, but you’re helping me do dishes.”

  “Deal.”

  Seven

  “COME ON, guys. We have to go or we’re going to hit traffic,” Aaron’s father said as he shoved Allen’s last box into the back of their Durango. They’d filled the cargo area of the truck so full with stuff Allen had decided to take to college that it poked Aaron in the back of the head as he piled in behind his parents. Allen climbed in to sit in the middle, and Anthony took the far side, just behind their mother. As their father got behind the wheel, their mother turned around in her seat. The bags under her eyes could have accommodated Allen’s college stuff easily, but no one said anything. They knew the toll her mother’s illness took on her.

  “Everybody ready?”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Allen said as he tugged the seat belt out from under Aaron’s ass to buckle it around him. Then he jabbed Anthony with a shoulder to make him buckle up too. Aaron took the hint without the nudge, and they were ready. It would take them about four hours to get to Lafayette, Indiana, where they’d help Allen get situated in the dorm and then turn around and drive back to their western suburb with one less child.

  It was nothing like the trips they’d taken when Aaron was a kid, before the world had changed. Back then, he and his brothers played the “he’s touching me” game for miles before their parents threatened to pull over and leave them. Or they would play I-Spy with increasingly outlandish things to find until they doubled over with giggles. There were no giggles on this trip. Mostly the sounds included angry whispers from Anthony’s headphones or the ding of Allen’s iPhone as he sent excited texts back and forth with his friends. Aaron simply read quietly on the Kindle his mother had bought him for successfully passing his first college class. It was his “congratulations on functioning” present, much like the MP3 player she got him as a “congratulations on surviving” present when he got out of the hospital.

  The book took him through until they were about an hour from Purdue, when they pulled over to get gas and food, their last meal together as a family. As much as he wanted Allen to have a normal life away from his personal black hole of insanity, the idea depressed him. They found an Olive Garden, one of Allen’s favorites, and pulled into the lot. When the nice lady took them to a table in the back, Aaron could have kissed her as he slid into one of the seats next to the wall between his brothers. No space for a waitress to sneak up on him or drop things on him. He could stay in his little bubble away from the outside world and mourn his brother’s pending absence, just as he mourned Spencer’s absence.

  He’d managed to keep Spencer out of his thoughts all day. It was his first weekend in the new apartment, and he probably had a lot of unpacking to do as he settled in for a nice long stay away from Aaron. Deep down, Aaron knew Spencer thought he’d move up there with him once he’d sorted out his issues, but Spencer didn’t really understand that he’d never sort them out like that. Not to be able to live in a large city full of people or hold down a job. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him once his parents were gone and he became that crazy uncle everyone seems to have, burdened on his brothers.

  Dinner at the restaurant was a rather subdued affair. His mother kept them talking about what a wonderful time Allen would have and all the new and amazing friends he’d make. Aaron noticed, with each new way Allen would love college, Anthony sank down farther in his chair, until he practically slid under the table. Aaron understood. He would miss Allen too. But Allen had been everything to Anthony since the world started to revolve around Aaron. He hadn’t really seen it until then and wished he could be more to his youngest brother.

  By the time they’d finished their tiramisu, conversation had died down again. They were just an hour from the college and Allen’s departure. He’d text with Allen, of course, but Allen would be busy with his own life, just like Spencer was. Why did things ever have to change? Change in his life did nothing but destroy his ability to live.

  As much as Aaron wanted to see Allen’s new dorm, he opted to stay downstairs and pull boxes out of the car while the family carried his belongings up to the room. Too many people littered the stairs and hallways for him to take a chance on going up. The hot late-August day didn’t afford him much to hide his scars. So he grabbed a box overflowing with video games and comic books and set it on the ground next to the car. Allen had just taken another box up to the building when his phone buzzed. He crawled into the back of the car and folded his legs under him.

  [Spencer] Having fun?

  [Aaron] I’m sitting in the back of the car. How much fun could it be?

  [Spencer] Why are you just sitting in the car?

  [Aaron] They’re taking Allen’s stuff up to the dorm. Too many people, so I stayed with the car. No reason to make him an outcast by showing off his freak brother the first day.

  [Spencer] You are not a freak. Most of what
you imagine people are saying about you is just that, imagination.

  [Aaron] So you think I should just stroll on up and let the coeds gawk?

  [Spencer] No, I think you should go say good-bye to the brother you love.

  [Aaron] I don’t want to.

  [Spencer] I figured that out already.

  [Spencer] Hey, I’ll be back at my dad’s Thursday night. Want to come and stay?

  [Aaron] Can’t. Mom is staying over at my grandma’s that night because she’s going to have surgery. I don’t know what’s going on that day, but I’ll have to deal with Anthony and make dinner. Want to come for dinner?

  [Spencer] I won’t be there till way after dinnertime.

  [Aaron] Then I’ll come by on Friday and stay until Monday.

  [Spencer] I’d love that.

  When Aaron inventoried the back of the Durango, one small box remained. With a sigh, he turned the ignition to Accessories and rolled up the windows. Spencer had a point. It wasn’t like he’d ever see these people again, and while he didn’t think he imagined the looks of disgust on people’s faces as he passed, he did want to see Allen’s dorm. The same kind of dorm he’d have lived in the last three years if the world hadn’t gone dark for him. After grabbing the box, he locked up the car and pocketed the keys. He’d wait for the next person to come down and follow them up to the room.

  Of course, because that was how his luck ran, it had to be Anthony.

  “Way to wait until we’re finished,” he said as he spotted Aaron standing next to the car with the box in his arms. “Maybe you could not help us get his TV stand thing put together.”

  “Shut up, Anthony,” Aaron mumbled.

  “Well, seriously, how hard is it to get out of the car and help us carry stuff?”

  “You really have no idea.”

  Aaron followed Anthony up a few concrete steps and into the building where he’d seen his parents and brothers disappear again and again as they carried boxes and totes to Allen’s dorm room. As they passed through the front door, Aaron looked to his left and saw a well-appointed lounge with comfortable-looking, brightly colored chairs, couches, and tables. It appeared to be a place for the normal kids in college to hang out and be social. To the right was something like a cafeteria with no food. Brilliant blue-striped booths lined the walls, and there were bright red chairs, and tons of other little study spots for students looking for a quiet place to do homework away from their rowdy roommates.