Page 41 of No More Heartbreakers

Her voice wavered. Her fingers, clasped in her lap, were trembling.

I covered her cold hands lightly with one of my own for a second and used a reassuring tone. “I don’t want you to worry about messing up. You can’t say anything wrong. This is not live—it’s recorded, so I can edit it to make sure it’s just right. We’re not here to make anyone look bad.”

“Am I supposed to look at the camera?”

I gave her the same answer I gave to everyone who asked. And theyallasked. “No. Don’t even worry about the camera—you look right at me, okay?”

Interview subjects who stared right into the camera came across stiff and uncomfortable at best, like bad actors, or cheesy, like used car salesmen. At worst, they’d completely forget what they’d been saying, experiencing a sort of mesmerized state brought on by trying to have a conversation with a black, reflective lens.

By asking questions in a quiet, conversational tone and looking right into their eyes, I could usually get people to forget they were on camera at all. They’d often tell me afterward how quick and easy it had been, when they’d been expecting to feel nervous or frozen on camera.

I asked a question to get her started. “What was Jeffrey like as a kid?”

“Oh, he was a rascal. He liked to climb everything…”

She reminisced for several minutes, relaxing as she talked and even smiling over some funny memories of her son. By the time she told us how she’d learned of his death a few days earlier, all three of us were crying.

The interview ended, and Mrs. Dixson and I both stood. I grabbed her hand and squeezed as I thanked her again for talking to us and told her what time the story would be on, offering to send her the link in case she wanted to watch it again later or share it with her family.

Aric was apparently not content with a handshake. He hit the camera’s stop button and stepped forward to hug Mrs. Dixson, enveloping her rounded shoulders in his arms and drawing her close.

The gesture startled me, but she obviously welcomed it. She sagged into him, allowing herself to cry harder on the strong shoulder he’d offered.

Her lost son was not just my age, he was Aric’s age as well.

My heart clenched at the sight of them there—Aric, so large and strong, comforting her in her brokenness. They stayed like that for a few minutes as I awkwardly gathered our gear.

Mrs. Dixson finally pulled away from Aric. “Hold on, honey. Before you go, I want to give you something. Wait right here.”

She disappeared down the hall and came back a minute later with a pair of beautiful, and very large, Western boots. “You wear about a thirteen, right?” she asked him.

“How’d you know?”

“Oh, I’m an expert on big feet. I have three sons, all grown men now. Jeff’s my baby. These were his—he got them a week before he was deployed. I’d like for you to have them.”

“They’re beautiful, but I don’t know if I should—”

“Nonsense. He has no use for them now. He’s with the Lord and wearin’ boots of gold. I want you to have these.”

Aric hung his head, overwhelmed, then reached out to take them and looked Mrs. Dixson directly in the eye, emotion reddening his face. “Thank you.”

She gave him a watery smile and patted Aric on the arm as he collected the boots and turned toward the door. He let out a long breath as we walked to the car.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “That was tough.” He cleared his throat and avoided looking at me.

As we drove mostly in silence, each of us recovering, I asked myself the same question.Was I okay?

No.I wasn’t. My heart ached for the grieving woman we’d left inside the house. But more than that, I was terrified for myself. My entire body trembled with a new certainty.

This was a guy I could easily fall in love with, who could break my heart without even trying.

Thankfully, our next story shoot was exactly what I needed to get my head on straight again.

We drove north to Athens, winding through its picturesque streets to the beautiful University of Georgia campus. The giant oak trees and classical brick structures took me back to my not-so-long-ago college days.

The close, historic feel of the campus reminded me of Brown University in a lot of ways. I’d had so little time there to make good memories before they were evicted by humiliation.

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