Inside a. dean

In Late March of 1996, one of the first truly warm days of that spring, I was doing a little cleaning and enjoying the breeze in my downstairs domain at mommy’s house, waiting for my friend Nick to pick me up and bring me to my second day at one of the worst jobs I ever had, as a fry cook at TGI Fridays. The phone rang, and gazing out the screen door at the melting snow, I answered it.

I don’t remember exactly what my friend Kerrie* and I argued about. We were on the outs, mainly because she was dating a jerk who had gone down on me the second her back was turned (in her car, of all places). It doesn’t matter what the specific fight was about, because the consequences are what is important. Ten minutes later I was in the garage, torching a picture I had of her. I looked up and saw three cars pull up in the driveway. Benji** got out of the first one, holding what looked like a crow bar in his hand.

I shut the garage door and walked inside. The front door was wide open and I was soon greeted with an ice scraper upside the head. I stumbled into the downstairs living room, stunned more than anything. I reached for the phone to call the police and he smashed it with the ice scraper before I could dial. In the process, the plastic part at the end of the ice scraper shattered into a jagged piece, which he soon lunged at me with.

Out of nowhere, my friend Brent tackled him and dragged the screaming lunatic away. I walked into my bedroom and picked up the phone. I called 911and was just beginning to explain everything when he tackled me on my bed. He was trying to punch me, but this time I fought back. I punched him in the jaw and kicked him against the window. The scuffle continued until I heard Kerrie say, almost bored: “Let’s go, Benji.”

I screamed and cursed so long and so loud, I think there is still a cloud hovering somewhere over suburban Minnesota. They drove away. I got back on the phone with the shell-shocked 911 operator and explained who I was, where I was and what had just happened.

The cops nailed him within about 10 minutes and took him to jail for the weekend. I got a nasty scratch near my right eye from the ice scraper and the support of my macho straight male friends who said they would “Take care of him.”

A few months later, I was shot in the leg and wound up in the hospital. (Hey, ’96 wasn’t my year. I was also homeless at the time.) The one person who came to visit me during my three day stay in the hospital was Kerrie, pleading with me to forgive Benji and to go easy on him in court. A month later, I agreed to drop all charges except for the restitution to pay for my mom’s phone. The judge asked me if I had anything to say. I explained that I didn’t. Moments later in open court, Benji’s lawyer asked him a few questions.

“So the reason you attacked him was because he was spreading rumors, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And the rumors were that the two of you had sex together, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And these were absolute flagrant lies, correct?”
“That’s correct.”

I don’t know if I have ever been so humiliated in my life. Snickers and sneers surrounded me, from “friends” and strangers alike. It got worse when I was leaving the courtroom and the prosecutor loudly berated me: “WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!??”

That was June of 1996. In August of 1997 I moved into a two bedroom duplex with Kerrie and Benji in Minneapolis.
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The question here, is why. Why the hell did I do it? I have always been a forgiving person. I don’t pretend to know why. Incidentally, I forgave the guy who accidentally shot me in the leg as well.

A few days ago, something shocking occurred to me. Forgiving Benji and Kerrie set so many events in motion I have no idea where I would have ended up without having done so.

* It was the first time I had a chance to get out of mom’s house for good, and I haven’t gone back
* I got a job for $5 an hour at Sam Goody in the City Center. While working there, I met a really screwed up chick named Shannen.
*Shannen introduced me to a guy named Jesse who worked in a call center in downtown Minneapolis. He said they were hiring.
*I quit the City Center job and got a job at AT&T in September of 1997.
*Jesse introduced me to my good friend Mara.
*Things got really bad living with Kerrie and Benji and the great pay I got at AT&T made it possible for me to get my first apartment in January of 1998.
*Later, I met Shannon, whose sister Sarah is one of my closest and dearest friends. I got close to the rest of their family and pretty much became an honorary brother.
* My friend Stephanie came shortly after.
*A few years after that, I met my very good friend Rebecca.

To this day, AT&T is the place that I made the only lasting friendships with co-workers. I don’t know where I would be without these people in my life. ALL of these people. And where would I be if I had never forgiven Benji?

My sister once said to me, “True forgiveness comes from the heart.”

I don’t think I can say I ever actually forgave Benji. I saw Kerrie and Benji as a way of getting out of my mom’s house and moving to the city. After I moved out of the duplex we shared, what relationship I had with both of them completely dissolved. I don’t speak to either of them anymore.

What Benji did to me was beyond reprehensible. I don’t seek revenge. Somebody like Benji is his own worst enemy. He is dishing out far greater and sweeter revenge on himself than I could, I promise you.

* This name has been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
** So has this one

I stole this from my friend Sarah's Blog. Thought it was a good idea.

Nine Layers
Get to know me better:

LAYER ONE:
-- Name: Aaron
-- Birth date: June 30th
-- Current Location: Lauderdale, MN
-- Eye Color: Green
-- Hair Color: Brown
-- Height: 5' 10"
-- Right or Left Handed: Right
-- Zodiac Sign: Cancer

LAYER TWO:
-- Your heritage: Irish, Swedish, Norwegian
-- The shoes you wore today: Brown Skechers Loafers
-- Your weakness: too much TV and very charming, charismatic guys preferably w/ southern drawls
-- Your fears: loneliness/failure/ centipedes
-- Your perfect pizza: Something unusual. I'm a single guy. I'm sick of pizza.
-- Goal you'd like to achieve: A well-written, cohesive million dollar script (or a degree of some kind)

LAYER THREE:
-- Your most overused phrase online: LMFAO
-- Your first waking thoughts: "I have a nasty taste in my mouth and feel dirty..."
-- Your best physical feature: My hands
-- Your most missed memory: Nothing I can think of.

LAYER FOUR:
-- Pepsi or Coke: Coke
-- McDonald's or Burger King: BK
-- Single or group dates: Single
-- Adidas or Nike: Puke. Neither
-- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Nestea
-- Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate
-- Cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino, I guess. Caffeine is evil.

LAYER FIVE:
-- Smoke: Used to
-- Cuss: Far too much, according to a few people.
-- Sing: Along with the radio, in the shower, in front of people if I am drunk.
-- Take a shower everyday: yes
-- Do you think you've been in love: Yes
-- Want to go to college: I am going right now
-- Liked high school: The last two years were pretty cool.
-- Want to get married: Yes, so long as there isn't a CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT FUCKING BANNING IT!! (I warned you about the swearing.)
-- Believe in yourself: I try to
-- Get motion sickness: While reading on the bus.
-- Think you're attractive: Who am I kidding? No. Well, sometimes.
-- Think you're a health freak: No
-- Get along with your parent(s): Mom, yes, dad, kinda
-- Like thunderstorms: I'm a drama queen. I LOVE THEM
-- Play an instrument: I WISH!!

LAYER SIX: In the past month...
-- Drank alcohol: Yes
-- Smoked: One drag while incredibly drunk at the Apple River.
-- Done a drug: Does Aleve and cold medicine count?
-- Made Out: No
-- Gone on a date: No
-- Gone to the mall?: Yes
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: No.
-- Eaten sushi: No
-- Been on stage: God, no.
-- Been dumped: No
-- Gone skating: No
-- Made homemade cookies : No
-- Gone skinny dipping: No
-- Dyed your hair: No
-- Stolen Anything: Some cat food that I "forgot to mention" on the bottom of my cart.

LAYER SEVEN: Ever...

-- Played a game that required removal of clothing: Yes.
-- If so, was it mixed company: Yes, unfortunately.
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: YESS!! TWICE!!
-- Been caught "doing something": Yes. No comment.
-- Been called a tease: No, I'm too much of a slut. hee hee
-- Gotten beaten up: Yes
-- Shoplifted: Yes
-- Changed who you were to fit in: Yes. I wasn't very succesful, though.

LAYER EIGHT:

-- Age you hope to be married: 35
-- Numbers and Names of Children: Not necessary
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: A cliff somewhere with waves crashing on rocks below
-- How do you want to die: In my sleep, at 90
-- Where you want to go to college: Somewhere on the East Coast or West coast. I need an ocean nearby.
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: A screenwriter.
-- What country would you most like to visit: Europe. All of it.

LAYER NINE:
-- Number of drugs taken illegally: 7
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: 7
-- Number of CDs that I own: More than 200
-- Number of piercings: 2 in rt ear, one in left
-- Number of tattoos: None
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: zero
-- Number of scars on my body: 5
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: too many to count. my 20s were rough.