I loved you head over handles
like my first bicycle accident--
before the mouthful of gravel and blood,
I swore we were flying

- Sierra DeMulder

I slam my forehead onto the legal pad on my desk as if that will somehow revive my rotting brain cells. Why am I at work on a Sunday afternoon? Thanks a lot, Tina. You fat lard. I giggle at the Napoleon Dynamite inspired insult and try to resist the fit of hysterics that's coming on.

This morning I skipped church with my family to spend the last nine hours staring at my computer and trying to type this piece on small businesses. Dave should have given me a lot more information, but his notes consisted of the names of a few small businesses and a list of acronyms which I've been decoding. So far, I have 500 words written and still don't understand what this article's supposed to be about.

I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. Plus, the vending machine has been my only source of sustenance since the bowl of oatmeal I inhaled this morning. Man cannot live on Twizzlers and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups alone, and the Skittles won't budge despite the stapler I hit against the side of the machine. I'm growing desperate.

When my phone buzzes on my desk, I groan. "Hello?"

"Rachel? Are you okay?" Aaron sounds concerned and I briefly wonder if he should be.

"Uh, yeah. No. Maybe. What time is it?" I answer, rubbing my temple with one hands.

"Almost dinner time," Aaron answers, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know how your mom feels when we're late."

"Oh crap. Sunday dinner." I smack my head with my palm. "Is it six already?"

Every Sunday night, my parents, Tommy, Aaron and I have dinner together. It's a tradition, and my mom is all about keeping our traditions sacred. Plus, there are usually leftovers and her famous chocolate chip cookies involved, so I refuse to miss it.

"It's 5:45," Aaron answers. "Are you still at work?"

"Maybe." I pause for a beat. "Okay, yeah, I'm still here, but I'm almost done."

"Well, I'm coming to pick you up and we're going to dinner. Tina can wait," Aaron says.

Aaron's convinced that between Tina and Emmalee I'm some sort of martyr. Somedays I think he's right, but it doesn't really matter. I have to work and I have to have a roommate, so as Mom always tells me, I just have to suck it up.

"Fine. I'll get my stuff."

"Okay, see you soon, babe."

When I hang up on my call with Aaron, I sag back in my chair, hands knotted in my short, unruly curls. This article is due tomorrow at 8:00 A.M. which means I'm going to be up all night finishing it. I really hope Mom made a double batch of cookies. I groan, throwing the file of papers I've printed on the topic into my bag, and scuttle out the door to meet Aaron.

When he pulls up, his expression is somber as he stares at me from the rolled down window. "You look rough."

"Thanks a lot, sweetheart," I growl as I hop into the passenger's seat with my bulging purse at my feet.

"You know what I mean," he says, chucking me under the chin. "You're always gorgeous, but you're kind of a hot mess today."

"At least I'm still hot."

When I make a face at him, he reaches across the seat barrier to brush a curl behind my ear and kiss me. That always makes me smile, and I feel my tension dispel. Easy. That's what we are. Aaron knows how far to push me and when to let me go.

I sigh and lean back into the seat. Before pulling away from the curb, Aaron reaches for my hand and squeezes it. "What's wrong?"

"I have a huge article that I have to finish by tomorrow because the guy who was supposed to write it got fired and I know nothing about Wall Street or businesses and his notes are complete crap and it's due in the morning and-"

Aaron shuts me up with a hand over my mouth and I squirm, eyes bulging. "Rachel, calm down. It's going to be fine."

I push his hand away and reply, "But what if it's not fine? TIna straight up told me that I'm gone if I don't keep putting in extra effort. I need this job. Journalism doesn't pay that well and there aren't exactly tons of jobs around here."

Aaron grimaces, and I know he doesn't have a good answer. I could always move and find a job elsewhere, but I'm so safe and comfortable here. I have Mom and Dad and Aaron and Emmalee and my job even though all of them drive me crazy sometimes.

"I'll stay up with you if you want," he offers. "I'll even go on a midnight Starbucks run for tea."

I grin at him, cocking my head. "Be careful what you offer, I might have to take you up on it."

Aaron throws his hands against the wheel, laughing. "I'm trying to win Boyfriend of the Year. Think I got a shot?"

I put a finger to my chin. "Only if you get me a blueberry scone while you're at Starbucks."

"Deal," he says, running his thumb down my face with a sweet smile before pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Soft folk pop plays through the speakers as we drive towards my parents' house. I lose myself in the blurred colors rushing by outside of the window and I lean my head against the car door. When Josh broke my heart, Gramps died, and my world fell apart, I never thought I would still live here in my hometown four years later. True, I needed time to heal and home was the perfect place, but now it's become sort of a refuge, a haven from a hectic world that I don't know how to live in any more. I sometimes wonder what would happen if I just left everything familiar behind me and started over. Could I stand on my own two feet again?

Aaron's blinker sounds and he turns into the driveway of my childhood home. My parents' house hasn't changed in years; the only thing different is the hedges aren't as closely trimmed and my brother Tommy now towers almost a foot above me. Aaron parks his car and hops out, opening my door for me. I step out beside him, finding my place nestled under his arm. We ring the doorbell and between my parents' new dog, Tommy, Mom, and Dad, an entire party greets us at the door.

"Aaron!" Tommy cries, pulling Aaron into some weird sort of guy hug-handshake combo.

Even though Tommy, now a senior in high school, wants nothing to do with me, he thinks Aaron is super cool. Dad greets me with a warm hug, his goatee now more salt than pepper and the wrinkles around his eyes deeper.

"It's good to see you, Rachel."

I smile, finding comfort in my dad's embrace. "It's good to see you too, Dad."
Mom practically shoves Dad out of the way to hug me and somehow manages to try to fix my hair at the same time. "Rachel, it's good to see you, honey. Have you been getting enough sleep? Do you need me to send you home with some groceries? I have leftovers from dinner last night-"

"No, Mom, I'm fine," I protest although who's going to turn down Mom's leftovers? I've started keeping an extra styrofoam cooler in the trunk just for moments like this.

"Aaron, good to see you," Dad says, shaking my boyfriend's hand.

After everything that happened with Josh, my parents love Aaron. He's respectful, predictable, and even-keeled. He doesn't inspire any irrational passion or heartbreak on my part and that makes them happy. It makes me happy too, most of the time. Sometimes I miss the feeling of being caught up in a tide that I can't escape, the feeling I had with Josh, but then I remember how it felt to be hurled back on the shore again. Easy. Safe. That's what we are, and I like it. I do.

"Ready for dinner?" Mom says, motioning to a meal on the dining room table that would make Martha Stewart green with envy.

"Yep," Tommy answers, plopping into his seat and filling his plate with a mountain of mashed potatoes.

Even though Tommy's over 6'4", he still manages to eat whatever he wants while staying as skinny as a bean pole. Man, do I miss the days of teenage metabolism. That doesn't stop me from getting my own pile of potatoes, however. Mom's cooking is a once a week treat.

"So, Rachel, how's work?" Dad asks.

"It's...well, I still have a job," I say, the chipperness in my voice ringing false.

Mom's jaw drops. "Is there a reason you wouldn't have a job? Do I need to visit that Tina woman and tell her what I think--"

"No, Mom, it's fine. Things are just a little rough at work. We've had to let a few people go."

Dad smiles at me in understanding. "Well, it speaks to your work ethic that you're still there."

"Either that or my stupidity for putting up with her," I grumble in between bites of mashed potatoes.

Aaron's the only one who hears me and I ignore the concerned creases on his face as he squeezes my hand beneath the table. The only fights we really have are over what he thinks is best for me. Usually he's right and I'm just too bull-headed to admit it, but sometimes even he can't fix things. Sometimes I just have to deal with the crap that life's dealt me.

"How about you, Aaron? How's your job?" Mom asks.

If the rest of my family likes Aaron, my mom worships him. He's a mother's dream: quiet, respectful, kind. Not to mention, he has a solid savings account and a stable job. On the surface, he's everything Josh wasn't, but in many ways I see their similarities in their kindness and compassion. However, every comparison between the two only paints Aaron in an inferior light as if he's Josh's shadow, similar to the real thing but not the same. I ignore the thought; in many ways, he's better than Josh. More trustworthy, more honest, more dependable. I'm not a stupid teenager any more, caught up in passionate whims.

"My job is going really well, Mrs. Evans, thank you for asking," Aaron answers with a perfunctory smile, spooning a generous scoop of gravy onto his entire plate.

"Tell them about the job offer," I prod him with a smile. My job may be falling to pieces, but I can at least be proud of how well Aaron's doing.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he says, blushing when my parents look to him curiously. "I was offered a promotion."

My mom claps her hands together. "Oh, that's wonderful! I'm sure you deserve it."
Aaron hesitates. "I...I'm not sure if I'm taking it yet. I'd have to relocate to Massachusetts."

Silence falls over the dinner table, and I watch as the gears spin in Mom's head. I'm sure she's trying to find a way to spin this into something good for her daughter, and while I do appreciate the thought, I get tired of her manipulation.

"You two should go!" she finally says. "There are journalism jobs in Massachusetts, right, Rachel?"

Both Aaron and I stare at Mom likes she's crazy. She wants me to leave? For a moment I feel like the rug's been pulled out from under me. Move to Massachusetts? With Aaron? I hadn't even considered the possibility; I'd thought of either him moving or staying, not of me going anywhere.

Aaron recovers from the shock before I do and says, "Well, Mrs. Evans, Rachel and I haven't decided anything yet."

Before Mom can say anything else, Dad covers her hand with his. "It's a big decision, of course. It's good that you two talk about it and figure out what's best for both of you."
I mouth "thank you" across the table to Dad and pull my hand free from Aaron's and hide my fidgeting fingers under the tablecloth. I can see Aaron's eyebrows furrowing beside me as he studies me.

"Who's hungry for some chocolate chip cookies?" Dad says.

"I'll get them," Tommy exclaims, pushing his chair back with a squeak and racing to the kitchen.

I take a deep breath and lean back into my chair. Aaron and I have only been dating a year and a half, and we both like to take things slow. Aaron can't expect me to just root up my life and move to Massachusetts with him, can he? Even if he does, why does that idea terrify me so much?

~~~~~

So what do you think? Will Rachel and Aaron make it? SHOULD they make it? Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading :)