“Then she told me that she knew all along she wasn’t good enough for you, and this just proves it. You’d be so much better off without her fucking up your life.”
“What?”
What?
I’m almost angry at her…furious. How can she say that after everything we’ve shared together? I need her right now more than ever.
“Maybe she was just being dramatic, Nathan. She was so distraught.”
“I’m going to go to her house, and see if she’s there. She would have to go get stuff if she’s leaving for a while.”
“Hurry then,” she warns. “I’m sure she won’t be there long. She’s been gone for at least an hour now. I couldn’t get away to call with all the computer stuff going on. And before that, Arnauld stormed over here and yelled, then interrogated me because I was supposed to call his office the moment she returned from HR”
“The fucker yelled at you?”
“Yeah, evidently he wasn’t done with her yet. And you know what? I don’t care if he fires me. Dealing with him just then was the last thing she needed.”
I feel a powerful surge of gratitude towards Morgan. “You did the right thing. Thanks for always looking out for Brooke,” I say reassuringly.
“Of course.”
“Okay, I better go. I’ll check in with you later.”
“All right. Hey, Nathan?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for all of us.”
• • •
I put all my focus into driving since my mind and spirit are shot. I keep my cool until I get all the way around Lake Hollywood only to find that they have the road closed due to a movie location shoot. The location cop informs me that unless I can wait about forty-five minutes, the only thing I can do is retrace my steps and then come up from the front, through Hollywood. That alone will take almost thirty minutes or more because of traffic. And that’s when I lose my cool.
I turn my car around like an Indie 500 driver and gun it on the windy road around the lake. By the time I hit Barham Blvd. heading towards Hollywood, I’m completely amped up.
She can’t just fucking leave me when I need her most. She told me she loved me. She told me it was forever. It was one thing when I thought she was mad at me about B-Girl, but this is something else.
I’m mad at this weak Brooke who slinks away from me when things get rough. I want my strong Brooke, who will stand by me in battle. We could fight this together.
As soon as I pull up to her place I can tell she’s already gone. I let myself in the gate, then futilely ring the doorbell over and over and peer in the front windows. There’s no sign of her.
I’ve never felt more defeated. I sit on her doorstep with my head in my hands trying to figure out what to do next. “Don’t do this to me, Brooke,” I whisper. “Please don’t do this to me.”
I’m almost back to my house when my cell phone rings.
“Where are you?” Curtis asks, forgoing formalities.
“Driving home.”
“Come to Billie’s store. Dad called and told me what’s going on. We need to talk.”
“I don’t think I can, Curtis. I’m a wreck.”
“Brooke was here not long ago. Billie tore into her.”
“I’ll be right there.”
When I finally arrive at the Outer Limits, Billie has a worried expression as they approach me. Curtis nods an abbreviated greeting.
“Curtis says Brooke was here,” I say directly to Billie. “What happened?”
Billie stops right in front of me and rests her fists on her hips defensively. Her expression morphs from concern, to stormy, to fierce.
“I told her to get the fuck out of my store.”
I groan and pull my hands over my face.
“Why, Billie?”
“Curtis had just called me with the lowdown, how she didn’t come to your defense in the meeting…and then she showed up here. She was trying to buy a complete set of your comics and it pissed me off. What if she’s taking them to that asshole Arnauld guy?”
“I assure you. He already has a set.”
“And then she started to cry like a baby, and babble that it isn’t what I think. Plus, some bullshit that she wants to help you. “So I asked why she wasn’t with you when you needed her most. Didn’t she understand what it meant to be loved like that? Enough that you would create a character in her name and show her all the love in the world? I mean what the hell?”
“Oh, Billie,” I say defeated.
“She blubbered about not being good for you, that you would be better off without her.”
I shake my head in despair.
“So I told her that if she was that big of a wimp, that in my opinion, she’s right…but that you would never see it that way. If she abandons you, it’ll kill you.”
“What did she say to that?”
“She just cried harder. What an emo.”
“Billie!”
“So I told her to take the books and that I didn’t want her money. I just want her to do the right thing by you.”
I look at Billie. She’s right, and she’s wrong about Brooke. Either way I’m fucked.
“What? If she’s going to abandon you when you need her most, then I’m done with her. I’m sorry Nathan, but it’s wrong.”
“It’s not what you think Billie. She also told her assistant that she’s going to try to help me. Even if Brooke is mad about B-Girl, I need to believe she still cares about me. I swear, she wouldn’t just let Arnold take me down without trying to do something. Can’t you see that?”
“I’m only looking at what’s right in front of me. And you should too.”
Her words haunt me the entire drive home and with each passing hour it gets worse.
Brooke could have reached me by now. I don’t care if it was by a damn payphone or telegram. If she knows me at all she’d know how desperately I’d need some reassurance about now.
Even if she can’t handle the fact that I’d obsessed about her so long and hid B-Girl from her, she owes it to me to at least talk about it. A stream of anguished thoughts loops in my head, playing over and over and over until I think I’m going mad. I make a calculated decision to surrender to alcohol to numb my tortured, hopeless thoughts.
• • •
It’s a long dark night with my silent cell phone clutched in one hand, an iceless, amber filled glass in the other as I wander aimlessly through my haunted house. I’m a ghost, my deep sighs painful echoes, as I fear the loss of the life I’d always wanted.
I see Brooke everywhere…her shimmering mirages taunt me. But every time I reach for her, my shaky fingers grasp nothing but air.
The next morning, the bright light in the bathroom scorches my eyes. I stand with a slight wobble before I adjust and approach the sink.
What day is it anyway? Ah yes, Tuesday…the day after the worst day in my life.
I glare at my reflection. Good thing Brooke isn’t seeing me now. This would pretty much seal the deal.
“Hey Nathan, did you know that Jack Daniels is not a good substitute for Brooke?” I ask myself aloud.
“No?” I answer.
My reflection in the mirror is blurry. It’s probably not a good sign that I’m talking to myself.
“But last night I sure thought the Jack Daniels was worth a try.”
In the mirror I watch my hands lift in a gesture like I’m explaining my reasoning. I then scowl and shake my head disapprovingly.
“Back to the drawing board, Nathan.”
I lean over the sink and splash water across my swollen face and puffy eyes.
I thought only crazy people talked to themselves. So now I’m a crazy fucker.
Morning is a cold, hard bitch.
With considerable inner conflict, I answer the phone call from my Dad. Apparently my zombie-like responses to his questions discourage him.
“Nathan. Pull it together. Have you eaten anything, or did you just imbibe last night?”
“Do you really want to know?” I ask, disheartened.
“Ah, Son. I’m coming over there. But first there’s good news. Walter just called, and they aren’t pursuing the conference room issue. Seems that yesterday Brooke convinced them it was consensual, that she encouraged the aggressive behavior. She also told them that she absolutely wanted to copulate with you while bent over the conference room table.”