13:13, 19

Birthday

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Summer 1999

It was the evening of Aaron’s 21st birthday, late in August. He’d spent much of high school planning this night with his friends—what he’d drink and how much and where, and what he would do when he was done drinking and with whom. He remembered those unrealized fantasies a few times as he and Luce sat in the bed of his truck, parked in the field, drinking root beer and playing go fish. He wouldn’t have changed this birthday celebration for anything. Luce was the first person he thought of in the morning and the last person he thought of at night. He spent every free minute with her and the rest of his time wishing he was with her. Was he too focused on her? Was he putting her above God in his life? Maybe. But for once, he didn’t dwell on what he might be doing wrong. He’d had such a hard few years. Luce was the reward.

It had been a perfect night. They’d thought about going out for dinner, but Aaron was trying to save money, and Luce still didn’t have too much of an appetite, so they’d eaten sandwiches with Henry and Katherine instead. Dinner, to be honest, had been awkward, but Aaron knew it had meant a lot to everyone else. Once they’d finished, he’d driven her out here with their sodas, a couple of blankets, and the cards. Now, a Pearl Jam cassette was playing, the sun had dipped just below the horizon, and it was cold enough for Luce to borrow Aaron’s sweatshirt without him getting chilly. Perfect.

She was winning, but that was only because he cared so little. He kept leaning over to kiss her and letting entire hands show. She had no qualms about using her advantage.

He looked at her now, studying her cards. The tip of her tongue poked out from between her front teeth—an unconscious habit, one he found adorable—and his stomach flipped. She was intoxicating, and she didn’t even know it. She sighed, rearranged herself on the blanket they’d spread across the bed of the truck, and the blanket that she’d wrapped around her shoulders slipped down a little. Glancing up, she saw him staring at her and rolled her eyes, a slight, wry smile on her lips.

“Oh my gosh, what?”

Aaron shrugged. “Aren’t I allowed to look at you on my birthday?”

Luce shrugged too and took the blanket off, throwing it into the corner. She crawled closer to him on hands and knees and leaned close.

“Have I said happy birthday to you yet?” she whispered.

Aaron took a deep breath and shook his head.

Luce leaned in even closer until their lips met. Aaron’s heart pounded, almost through his shirt, but he didn’t touch her. This was the first time that she had kissed him, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

For a while, they stayed like that, kissing without touching, but eventually, Aaron wasn’t able to resist anymore; he ran his fingers through her hair and held onto the back of her head. She laid a light hand on his chest, where his heart was still beating fast.

After that, their hands moved more freely.

At some point, Aaron made himself sit back to look at her. They were both breathing hard, and there was a look on Luce’s face that he hadn’t seen before. She had taken off the sweatshirt and was sitting, staring at him, in her shorts and tank top, her fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt. He longed to tear it off, and hers too, but the look on her face stopped him. He didn’t know what she wanted, didn’t have any idea.

“Luce—”

“Sh. I don’t want to talk right now,” she said in a ragged voice. Aaron shook his head and ran his hand back and forth over his hair.

“No, you need to let me say this. Luce…I—this is crazy, I know, but…” Aaron looked down at his hands. What am I doing? But he’d jumped once, and he’d jump again. He looked her in the eye. “I’m in love with you.”

Aaron didn’t know what he expected to happen. He couldn’t imagine that she would clap her hands together and throw her arms around him. She wasn’t that kind of girl.

But he hadn’t expected her to sit back in stunned silence and avoid his gaze for several long, torturous seconds.

The moment stretched out, longer and longer. Aaron kicked himself for opening his big mouth and ruining everything. He sighed one long, shaky sigh and spread his hands in a pleading gesture.

“Luce—you’ve gotta give me something,” he said.

Luce glanced up and caught his eye. She chewed on the corner of her lip.

“Lie down,” she said.

“What?”

“Lie down.”

He did what he was told.

“Close your eyes,” she told him. He did.

What Luce did next was so far outside his expectations, he didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing—he just kept his eyes closed, his head thrown back, the blanket squeezed in his fists, until he lost control.

When it was over and he’d caught his breath, he slowly opened one of his eyes to a slit. He saw Luce sit up and look off into the distance. It was a minute before either of them moved, but then Aaron fixed his shorts and sat up too.

There was an odd feeling in the air; now that Aaron wasn’t building up to anything, he was particularly sensitive to it. Luce had been more forthcoming, playful, and friendly than usual all evening but now, she was silent. She avoided Aaron and sat with her knees up and her arms wrapped around them, looking like she was trying to hold herself together. He felt ashamed, guilty, and dirty, but he couldn’t figure out what they’d done wrong.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally. Luce nodded but still wouldn’t look at him. “Was that…have you ever done that before?” If it had been her first time, that would explain her weird reaction. But she gave him a look of such disdain that he knew that wasn’t it. “Did it…hurt?” he asked, desperate. Luce sighed.

“No, I’m fine. I’m just not feeling well.” Her old excuse. “I’m sorry. I know it’s your birthday, but I just want to go home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need to talk about anything?”

“No—please, just take me home.”

Aaron slid down to the ground, helped Luce out (she slipped out of his grasp as soon as she could), and got back in the driver’s seat.

Hardly any words were spoken during the ten-minute drive. When they pulled into Henry’s driveway, Luce got out of the car, said a quick and perfunctory Happy birthday, and ran inside. Aaron watched her go, thinking that he hadn’t seen her so excited to leave his presence since the day they’d met. He pulled back out of Henry’s driveway and drove home, his stomach sinking all the way.

Aaron didn’t sleep that night. He tried, tossing and turning, for an hour or so. He kept thinking about the first moment he’d opened his eyes, wanting to catch Luce lifting her head. He’d imagined how beautiful she would look in that moment, but thinking it through in bed, he realized that she’d already put her wall back up by the time he saw her face.

What had happened? What had he done wrong? Should he have said no to her? (Although how could he have? She was like a drug.) It wasn’t like he’d forced her to do anything. She hadn’t even told him what she was going to do. She’d just told him to lie down, and he had. End of story.

So why did he feel so guilty?

Finally, he threw his covers off and got out of bed. He wandered over to the window and saw the letter from Jen on his desk where he’d left it. An idea came into his head.

Aaron opened his closet, took out his duffel bag, and started throwing clothes into it. He grabbed his toothbrush, wallet, and his Bible and, though it was almost midnight, he went and knocked on his mother’s door. He’d left her once; he wasn’t going to leave again without telling her goodbye.

+++

By five o’clock that morning, Aaron was at the Greyhound station in Portland, armed with Jen’s letter, his Bible, his bag, and $500 that Katherine refused to let him leave without taking. He hugged her tight and promised he’d call, and write, and be back soon.

“This is not like the last time, okay? I promise. You’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay? You’ll take care of yourself, Mom?”

Katherine nodded, trying and failing to hold her tears back, and then grabbed at him for one last hug. Before Aaron boarded the bus, he took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and gave it to her. “Can you give this to Luce for me?” Katherine nodded again, took the letter, and kissed Aaron on the cheek before finally letting him go.

Aaron found a seat facing the platform and, because he knew his mother would need this, turned to wave at her. He didn’t stop until the bus had pulled away and he could no longer see her. “She’ll be okay,” he whispered. “God, please watch over her.”

Now that he was on his way, Aaron was finally able to put his head back, close his eyes, and sleep.

+++

When Katherine came to Henry’s house late that afternoon, Luce was terrified that Aaron had told her what had happened. But she simply handed Luce a folded piece of paper and said, “Aaron said to give this to you.” And then she turned around and walked home.

Luce sat on the couch and unfolded the note.

Luce,

I’m leaving Grace. I didn’t tell you this, but a couple of months ago, I got a letter from a friend, inviting me to come help out at a mission site in Virginia. It’s called Hope House, and it sounds great. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that I was leaving, but I

A few lines on the paper had been skipped, and then Aaron had written:

What the hell.

Luce, I have no idea what made you so upset last night, after what you happened. If it was anything I did, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. And I meant what I said. I’m in love with you. I’ve never had this feeling before, and I have no idea what to do with it, because this is not where God wants me. He doesn’t want me to get distracted. I’ve been neglecting Him, Luce, and I can’t do that. You know what I was before I started listening to God, and I don’t want to be that again.

You’ll probably be angry with me, and I don’t blame you. I wish I knew how you felt about me. I’ve put everything on the table with you since day one, but you’re still a mystery to me. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is (it’s almost one in the morning, and I’m so tired) is that I have to get out of here. I can’t concentrate here, with you around. I love you, and I’m so sorry. I am literally ripping myself away. But last night showed me that I’ve got my priorities screwed up, and if I’m going to get back on track, I figure a mission is a good place to try and start.

I’ll be back sometime. I promised my mother that. (You know what happened last time I left. Please, if you’re not too angry with me, could you keep her company now and then? She likes you.) I hope you’re still around when I come home. I’ll have my head on straight by then, and maybe you and I can figure things out. Right now, though, I just can’t.

Luce—whatever it is you’ve gone through, I know God wants more than for you to hold yourself to that. I hope you seek Him. I know He’s there for you. I love you.

Aaron

Luce didn’t say anything for a long time after she finished the letter. Then she slowly, slowly folded it back up, ripped it into tiny pieces, and threw those pieces out the window.

“Fuck him,” she whispered. “He’s just a guy after all.”