3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
S omeday, when I die, they’re going to perform an autopsy and find flecks of oatmeal embedded in my lungs. That’s how deeply I inhale the bite I’m chewing the moment I lay eyes on Brooks.
My Brooks.
No, not my Brooks.
I’d cross my fingers and hope that he hasn’t seen me, but there’s absolutely no way that anyone in the house could not notice the violent coughing fit wracking my body. By now, crumbs may have made their way into my bloodstream along with oxygen. My respiratory system has become one with the chocolate chip oatmeal cookie.
Nurse Natalie is quickly by my side, patting my back and asking if I’m okay. She hands me a cup of water. I take a sip, trying to settle my diaphragm. My cheeks would be pink just from the sheer exertion of coughing, but they’re extra flaming since the first time I’m seeing Brooks in eight years has me hacking up a lung in front of him.
“So sorry! I tripped and choked on that bite of cookie! That’s what I get for eating while walking,” I joke between coughs. “Everyone should try one of Sarah’s cookies—they’re to die for!” I add, hoping to divert attention to the baker.
Sarah beams again, announcing that she’ll gladly pass along the recipe to anyone interested. She walks forward into the living room, clearing the way for me to make eye contact with Brooks.
The dismay in his eyes confirms that he recognizes me too, and neither of us knows how to react. I’m the proverbial deer in headlights, but at least my Brooks-induced paralysis has quelled my coughing .
Joy doesn’t seem to notice and moves between us to make the final introduction. “Teegan, this is Brooks Murphy, the final member of our small group. He recently moved to Brooklyn.”
“I know,” I say, not extending my hand for the handshake greeting I gave everyone else. Joy looks at me quizzically.
“I mean, I know Brooks,” I stammer.
Brooks takes a step forward. “Teegan and I went to the same high school.” He fills in my unfinished thought. “I was a year ahead of her, but we . . . knew each other.”
The slight pause in his statement was so brief that I’m likely the only one who noticed. Joy smiles widely and says, “Well, what a small world! Glad that you could both be here. Brooks, do you want to grab a plate of food before joining us in the living room?”
“Nah, I’m good. I can get something later,” he replies, looking at Joy but darting glances at me. I turn to walk into the living room before I’m forced to say any more words.
Words are gone. Cease to exist.
How am I supposed to find the friends I need in this group when Brooks is here?
I take in the seating arrangement of the space. There are two seats open on a couch and one folding chair in the circle. I rush to claim the folding chair, unable to risk Brooks taking the other seat on the couch instead of Joy.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming tonight,” Caleb begins. “Joy and I have been part of a small group at church for the past few years, but we talked all summer about how we wanted to start a new group for some of the young adults at our church. We’re excited to connect as friends and grow in our faith together this year.”
Joy suggests that we go around the circle to give brief introductions. She and Caleb go first, followed by the other married couple, then Natalie. I try really, really hard to pay attention to what each person says. But that’s hard when all my mind can think is: Brooks is here. Brooks is here. Brooks is here .
He’s next in the circle to share, and my attention snaps fully into place as he begins speaking .
“Hi, I’m Brooks,” he says with a wave. So he’s officially going by Brooks now? In high school, it was always “Murphy” or “Murph.” I was the only friend who called him by his first name. I wonder when that changed?
“I’m twenty-seven, and I moved to Brooklyn a few weeks ago. I grew up in Kansas City and went to a small college in Missouri to play basketball. When I graduated, I started teaching middle school social studies in the KCMO school district. I recently decided to get a master’s in educational administration so I can work toward becoming a principal someday. I’m teaching at one of the middle schools here and taking classes in the evenings and online.”
“What brought you to Brooklyn, then?” Sarah asks.
“Well, the fact that it’s practically my name twin, obviously,” he replies with a grin. Everyone laughs. “No, really, I decided to take classes at Townsend because a college buddy of mine teaches here in Brooklyn and told me about a program they have for middle and high schoolers called The Hangout.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about. Lana volunteered at The Hangout every Tuesday all four years of college. The program is designed to give at-risk students a place to belong and make positive connections with other students and community members. Lana always worked with students like Sofia who were learning English, but many of the kids go to socialize and play games or sports.
“I’m hoping to learn some best practices from the directors and volunteers so I can eventually introduce a similar program in KCMO,” Brooks explains.
Natalie interrupts him. “KCMO? Sorry, you’ve said that twice now, but I didn’t grow up in Kansas and need a translation.”
Brooks gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that—I mean Kansas City, Missouri. The Kansas City metro area stretches across Kansas and Missouri. We shorten to ‘KCK’ or ‘KCMO.’ Of course, then you have all of the surrounding suburbs.”
“Ahhh, got it,” Natalie replies. “Okay, continue on with your Brooklyn migration story. ”
Brooks mimes tipping his hat to Natalie, drawing more laughs. I huff a belated chuckle so it won’t be obvious that I’m too paralyzed to truly laugh at his jokes.
“I showed up at church my first Sunday here, and Caleb introduced himself and invited me to lunch after the service ended. I’ve missed the past couple of Sundays, but Caleb made it clear I wasn’t getting out of joining this group.” He says this with a mischievous smirk directed at our group leaders, a smirk I’ve seen far too many times to ever forget.
Paying attention to Brooks talking has given me an excuse to study him. His hair is the same sandy-blond, but the scruffy mop he sported as a teenager has been cleaned up into a professional quiff cut. The sides are short, but the length on top is perfectly styled to strike a balance between shaped and messy. He was always lanky in high school, but the years have filled out his physique, giving him a fit look without being overly muscular. His eyes are the same captivating sky blue, a shade lighter than mine. He’s still clean-shaven, showcasing that cleft chin I used to press my finger against. I blink hard to stop myself from remembering the feel of his jaw.
As Sarah starts sharing, I pull my gaze away from Brooks. But my brain checks out of the conversation. Which is bad because this is my chance to get to know new friends, and I’m messing it up. Brooks is messing it up for me.
My mind turns over everything he just shared. Since when did Brooks want to be a teacher? He always pictured himself in sales or marketing. And since when does Brooks believe in God or go to church? High school Brooks certainly didn’t.
After Sarah finishes, one of the other single guys, Jason, begins sharing about himself, and then I’ll be next. I use every ounce of willpower to get my cheerful mask in place by the time it’s my turn.
“Hi! I’m Teegan Jones,” I begin with a bright smile and chipper voice. “I came to Townsend as a freshman, and I got involved with a Christian student ministry called Arrow. During my senior year, the directors of the group invited me to stay and join the staff team after graduating. This is my fourth year on staff, so I’ve kinda sorta figured out what I’m doing now,” I joke, making everyone laugh.
“Can you tell us a little more about what you do, exactly?” Brooks asks, and my heart rate skyrockets at his direct question and eye contact.
“Um, yeah, I guess I mostly . . . well, my job is kind of . . .” I start to stammer. I clear my throat. “You’d think I’d have my elevator pitch down by now.” Another group laugh. I give a brief explanation of what I do. “As much as I love the enthusiastic energy of the students, I’m looking forward to getting to know you all better and having some relationships outside of the college world.”
Everyone smiles and affirms my statement before we continue around the circle to Catherine. Before I turn my attention to her, I chance a glance at Brooks and catch him studying me with a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. We both quickly look to Catherine, and I don’t dare look his way again.
“Thanks again for inviting me to the group and having us all over,” I tell Joy as I hug her goodbye. All in all, I really did have a fun time this evening. After we finished our mini-introductions, we played a couple of not-lame party games that seemed to start breaking the ice for everyone.
I learned that Natalie knows every word to every ABBA song (complete with a demonstration). Sarah is an avid puzzler in addition to baking. And Catherine founded a STEM club for girls at her high school. Her ambition reminds me of Amaya, automatically endearing her to me.
Jason and the other single guy, Will, met while mountain biking in northwest Arkansas before realizing they lived in the same city. Candace and Brian, who got married last spring, moved to Brooklyn because Brian’s family owns Raelynn’s coffee shop. They’re in the process of opening a second location, and I sacrificially volunteered to frequent their coffee shop with all of my students.
And Brooks. I learned that Brooks is exactly the same and entirely different .
I wonder what he thought about me? No, I don’t!
By the time I get home to my duplex, I have twenty-plus missed text messages from various students, plus the start of a group chat from Joy.
JOY
Respond with your name so everyone can save numbers!
I reply and start saving the contacts as they come through.
816-555-3612
Brooks Murphy. Great to meet everyone!
My thumbs freeze above my phone screen. Never, ever did I expect to have Brooks Murphy as a contact in my phone again. He must have changed his phone number sometime in the past eight years, because I’m pretty sure I still have his old number blocked.
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding. Grow up, Teegan! This is fine. You’re a mature adult now with mature adult friends, one of whom just happens to be the boy who broke your heart. But it’s fine! It’s great, in fact! What better way to prove you’ve matured than to be friends with your high school ex?
I’m not sure precisely who I’m proving that to, but I’m going to prove the heck out of it. The gold medal for “Leaving the Past Behind” will hang from my neck. Statues will be erected in my honor: Teegan Jones, The Girl Who Moved On.
brOOKS
Hey Teegan. I just wanted you to know that it was a pleasant surprise seeing you tonight. I hope we can enjoy the group and be friends!
My mind crashes to the past at lightning speed. Complete with a proverbial boom of thunder reverberating through my bones.
So much for those statues. But I’ll never let Brooks or anyone else see how much this has shaken me. I’ll figure it out and be back to easy-breezy Teegan in no time. This little hiccup can’t keep me down long. Definitely.
Of course! Looking forward to it!