“People don’t think of you like that, Brooke,” I say softly.
“You have no idea, Nathan…no idea. I’ve been busting my ass trying to find another job, so I could finally get out from under him, and every opportunity mysteriously vanishes before the deal is struck. Well, now I’m the laughing stock of our industry. Look at all the fucking emails I’ve already gotten wishing us the best.”
She holds up her blackberry.
“I’d rather not,” I whisper.
My mind is reeling…another job…out from under him? What have I been missing?
“And you!” She pushes me on the chest.
Uh oh, she’s getting physical. Wow, it’s kind of hot. I try to focus so I don’t get aroused. That would be really awkward and weird right about now.
“You’re the one who’s stirred everything up. You and your damn pedestal, treating me like I’m sooo perfect…like I deserve more. You don’t realize what that does to me.”
“I thought it’s good to be admired,” I say, trying not to feel bad.
“But don’t you see…I’m always worried that I’m going to let you down. All along you’ve thought you weren’t good enough for me. When will you figure out that it’s me that’s not good enough for you?”
“How can you say that?” I ask, baffled.
“I’m a mess, Nathan. I don’t even know who I am anymore. The sooner you figure out what a sorry mess I am, and that I’m not anywhere close to perfect, the better off you’ll be. You can go find the girl that really deserves you.”
I realize there are tears steaming down her face. Confused, I hold my hands out, palms facing up. “Find the girl, what girl?”
“The girl,” she says, her voice breaking. “You should go find her.”
“What makes you think she couldn’t be you?” I ask.
There are little sobs now in between the crying. It’s breaking my heart.
“No, not me,” she cries.
I never would imagine she could be like this. She always seems so powerful, so sure of herself. I’m seeing another side of her and it’s a revelation. I realize it’s my turn to be strong. I clear my throat so my voice will be sure and steady.
“I’m not going anywhere, so stop saying that Brooke.” I pull her into my arms. She feels so fragile, and it makes me want to protect her.
“Besides, even if you are a mess, you’re my perfect mess.”
She bucks and fights my embrace. “Quit saying that! I’m not perfect Nathan…not even close.”
I decide to try a new tactic. “Oh, I know that… believe me!” I tease.
“You do?” She sniffles, the crying slowing down.
“Sure. What you don’t understand is that despite the fact that your coffee drinks are disgustingly sweet, you like Strawberry Shortcake, and that you have questionable taste in men, you’re still perfect to me.”
She sniffles against my chest, and I feel her relax a tiny bit into me. I rub my hand over her back slowly.
“You think my coffee drinks are too sweet?” She asks quietly, sniffle-free.
“Oh yeah! When I order them my teeth hurt.”
“Then why do you get them for me? You could try to get me to order something less sweet?”
“I wouldn’t do that, Brooke. I don’t want to change you. I just want to make you happy.”
She takes a deep breath that shivers from the leftover tears.
“Oh, Nathan. Whatever am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want to,” I reply.
She pulls away just enough to look up at me and smile.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“For what?”
“I actually feel a little bit better.”
I smile back. “Good. See if you’d let me take you to breakfast at six this morning, you could have avoided all this heartache,” I tease.
“Yeah, six in the morning. If you could see me at six in the morning on a work day you’d know that would never happen.”
“See, yet another way you aren’t perfect…the list is getting long now.” I give her a crooked smile.
She grins, and then looks embarrassed. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“And pushed me,” I remind her.
“Yes,” she agrees, looking down ashamed.
“I’m not. I think you needed that. I think we both did. Besides, I’m just really, really glad you’re here. Are you going to be sweet to me now?” I ask, half teasing, half not.
She smiles softly. “Yes, I’m going to be very sweet with you.” She studies me for a moment, and then wipes the tears off her cheek. “Ugh, I’m a mess. I need to wash off my face. Where’s the bathroom?”
“First door on the right, in the hallway.”
“Okay, I’ll just be a sec.”
I watch her walk away, and although I’m still worried about her, I’m so glad she came over. I step to the window and gaze out to the back garden and think about all the things she’s revealed to me.
She’s been trying to leave Arnold, she wants a new job, she thinks she’s a mess…wait…wait!…oh God, no!
It all hits me like an icy wave, and a panic shoots through me that I’ve never known. The time I almost got hit by a minivan when I was riding my new bike Christmas day doesn’t even compare.
Because at this moment Brooke is in my bathroom…the bathroom where the instructions on How to Woo A Girl and all my note cards are posted. My emasculation will be so profound if she reads that stuff, I’ll never recover.
I want to die.
I rush to the door and knock. “Brooke, Brooke. I need to get in there.”
Silence.
I try to turn the knob, but it’s locked. I rattle the handle in frustration.
“Brooke. Please, please let me in.”
Silence.
I press my hands and forehead to the door, and say a prayer that she’ll let me in.
Please Brooke.
My humiliation is so big I can’t wrap my arms around it. There’s no way she will ever be able to see me as anything but a loser idiot. I have lost every bit of gain I ever made with her with one simple mistake.
It was bad enough when I thought I was losing her to Arnold, but this…
“Please, Brooke. Please.”
Her silence tells me everything.
It’s done. It’s over. I might as well put the polo shirt with the bow tie and pocket protector back on. My heart feels like it’s melting right out of my chest.
I turn and walk back to the kitchen and straight out the back door. I need the sun and air of the backyard, because if I stay in that house another moment I think I will climb the walls.
I pace across the grass, thinking of what I will say. I’m sorry I’m such a loser? There are no elegant words to explain how much I want her, and the lengths I’ll go to be the best man I can be for her. How can I explain that I needed a jumble of inkjet printouts and note cards to give me a glimmer of hope.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been outside mumbling to myself, but I finally get the balls to go inside and get her out of the bathroom. It’s time to face the music. But once inside, I see that the bathroom door’s wide open. I warily approach the doorway and peek in, confirming that my guide to avoid being a loner pathetic idiot is still plastered all over the mirror, and Brooke is no where to be seen.
“Brooke?” I call out panicked. I can’t believe she just left without saying goodbye. The loser manifesto must have really freaked her out.
“In here,” she calls out weakly. It sounds like she’s in the bedroom. I look inside and see that she’s lying on my bed, white as a ghost.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she offers. “You don’t have a couch, and I got dizzy and needed to lie down.”
“Oh no. Are you sick?” I ask concerned, stepping closer.
“No, and don’t worry — I’m not pregnant.”