Page 15 of Love and Other Chances

“Pretty normal,” Brooks responds.

I lean forward slightly, forcing him to look at me. “That hardly counts as an answer,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “I assume you wouldn’t let that pass from one of your students.”

Brooks’ head falls back in a laugh. The same laugh that was once my favorite sound in the world. It’s deepened a bit with age, but the cadence is the same. My heart both expands and aches a little.

“You’re right—I wouldn’t let a student get away with that kind of answer,” he says. His eyes return to the road as we merge onto the highway out of town, but the shadow of his laugh remains in them. “‘Normal’ for a middle school teacher pretty much means part of the week was infuriating and part was exhilarating.”

“Do tell,” I prod, chewing on another candy.

“We’re far enough into the semester that I’ve got a decent read on most of my students—who’s going to struggle with the content, who might have a harder time socially, who’s going to naturally takecharge in class, and who’s going to want an extra challenge.” He pauses, glancing at me with a smirk. “Who’s going to be the class clown.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, you mean who’s going to give you a taste of your own medicine?”

Brooks shrugs and momentarily holds his hands up off the steering wheel. “No idea what you’re implying there, Teegan.” I can’t help but giggle again. Brooks continues, “I have a couple of students who have lots of potential but not much support at home. So I’m always trying to think of out-of-the-box ways to keep them engaged. I did manage to rework the lyrics of ‘Bad Blood’ to help the kids review for our American Revolution test. That paid off on their scores.”

I snort. “Oh my gosh—you did not!”

“What? You doubt my skills?” Brooks teases.

“You have to sing it for me right now,” I demand. Brooks tries to wave me off, but I know that he secretly wants to perform it for me. I know because that’s exactly how I’d act if I was him. It was never hard for Brooks and I to read each other. All we had to do was picture what we’d be thinking at any given moment, and we’d know what the other person was thinking.

My gentle prodding is all it takes for Brooks to start singing his revamped version of Taylor’s masterpiece. He manages to stay seriously in character, while I’m laughing so hard by the end that I think I might be literally hyperventilating.

“I’ll never be able to hear ‘You forgive, you forget, but you never let it go’ without thinking of the battles of Lexington and Concord again,” I say, tears of laughter streaming down my cheeks.

Brooks laughs along with me until we manage to calm down. He clears his throat and asks, “So, how’s the Gan Clan?”

The Gan Clan. It was Brooks’ nickname for my family back when we were together. My dad, Morgan, married my mom, Reagan, and they thought it would be really neat for all of us to have names ending with “G-A-N.” Hence, Logan and Teegan. Brooks always thought it was the funniest, cleverest idea.

“Ah, um, good!” I say, stumbling over my response. “I mean, we’re all doing good as individuals. No complaints. Just . . . notso much of a clan anymore.”

Brooks glances over at me, concerned confusion in his eyes.

“My parents got divorced during my sophomore year of college,” I explain. “So, you know, my parents are doing fine. Just not fine together.”

Keeping his eyes on the road, Brooks quietly remarks, “I’m really sorry, Teegan. I’m sure that sucked. What happened?”

I exhale slowly and look out my window. “Nothing major. It was the most cliché split ever—once both of their kids were out of the house, they felt like they had nothing in common anymore. Had grown apart, or whatever. My mom tried to keep fighting for them for a while, but my dad eventually filed for divorce.”

The air around me is starting to feel heavy, pressing down on me uncomfortably. I abruptly change the subject. “So, when did you officially start going by Brooks instead of Murphy?” I ask. “Did you drop the last name nickname as soon as you left high school or not until you started teaching?”

“Oh, um . . .” Brooks looks caught off guard, face falling slightly. “It wasn’t until three years ago.” He pauses again, like he’s struggling to answer. I suddenly wish I hadn’t asked this question.

“You know my parents named me Brooks after my mom’s maiden name,” he says. I do remember. His older brother was named Steven Jr. after their dad, and then his mom wanted her maiden name to be carried on by their second son. Brooks clears his throat again. “Ah, three years ago, my mom passed away.”

I physically flinch. His mom was one of my favorite people. She was always so spunky and carefree. So generous with her love. “Brooks. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs one shoulder. “Of course, you didn’t know. She had a brain aneurysm that ruptured, and she died instantly. Didn’t suffer at all.” Brooks pauses, and I see him fighting to stuff down his emotions. “After that happened, it felt like going by my first name—her maiden name—was a way to remember her. Honor her. Keep a piece of her alive with me.”

The heavy air I was attempting to alleviate by asking that question is now one hundred times heavier. I’m suffocating, and I know thatBrooks must be too. I close my eyes and picture a sunny meadow, pretending I’m running through it. Mentally escaping from uncomfortable feelings has become a well-rehearsed habit. This time, I even allow myself to include Brooks in the daydream, holding hands and smiling as we run through the grass. Running far away from the heavy air.

Brooks breaks the silence. “No one warns you that growing up means a lot more sucky life moments coming at ya, huh?”

I huff a small laugh and continue the attempt to lighten the mood. “For real. Where is that class in high school—‘Preparing for Life’s Suckiest Moments 101?’”

“I’ll include it as a suggestion on my end-of-the-year staff survey,” Brooks jokes. And with mutual understanding, we move back to light-hearted conversation.

“How did you know Joy and Caleb to get plugged into the small group?” Brooks asks.

---