• • •
Despite the encouraging things that happened earlier, that night as I lie in bed, the melancholy sets back in as I recall how different my life was just a couple of weeks ago when I still worked at Sketch Republic and got to see Brooke and my friends every day. I feel so isolated now.
I also longingly remember how it felt all the times Brooke was here with me. Sometimes I would just run my hand along her sides, and over her hips, filled with disbelief that she was actually here in my arms. I coveted those moments, every one of them.
I toss and turn, dozing off and then fretfully awakening with a start, gasping the still air of my darkened room. The dreams that torment me are fragments, flickering animation frames interspersed with images of Brooke that shift from Black and white, to color and back again. After the third nightmare jars me from sleep, I give up and finally get out of bed.
I continue my sick ritual of checking my cell phone every hour for messages, and the crushing disappointment when there aren’t any. Whatever she’s going through, I just desperately wish she’d call.
After turning on the T.V., I make some coffee and fire up the remote, flipping through all the channels and trying to find the most distracting show as possible to watch. Despite the magic of satellite, there still isn’t much compelling to watch at four-thirty in the morning.
As I sprawl on the couch I look through a sketchbook that had been left on the coffee table until I find an empty page. Remembering Dad’s advice, I slip the cap off a pen and consider the blank slate. There is so much to say that I hardly know where to start.
Dear Brooke…
I sit with my pen suspended in mid-air until I finally give up and lay it down.
How do I explain that it hurts to breathe without her here? That as much as I had initially admired and desired her, I had no idea how truly spectacular she was, and is, until I held her in my arms.
As my thoughts tumble, I grab the pencil lying next to the pen, and start moving it over the page as I think of her. The lines are loose, but I keep circling back until a sketch of Brooke and I at the Hollywood Bowl comes to life. I smile at the happy memory.
I hold it out in front of me, studying the image. Inspired, I continue on, tightening the drawing and adding a few background details. When it’s to a place I’m satisfied, I write underneath:
Although I always had a dream for us…this was the night I realized a future with you was truly possible…that it was unfolding right before my eyes.
I feel a surge of emotion as I study it again and suddenly it comes to me. There’s no better way for me to show Brooke what’s in my heart.
I grab my coffee and head to my studio. The whirl of the pencil sharpener ignites me as I flip to the opening page of a new sketchbook. I write the words first.
There was once a boy, who longed to meet a special girl. He desired to find his true love, yet he couldn’t find her…
…that boy was me.
As I stroke my pencil across the page, a rendering forms of a younger me perched at my drawing table. In the sketch, my hand cups my cheek as I lean forward and daydream out the window.
I turn to the next page.
Every girl I met was too hip, or mean, or not appealing…or just not for me.
I started to wonder—would I ever find my girl?
This sketch is more animated. I look flustered in the drawing where I’m in the middle of the page with a question mark over my head, while surrounded by little caricatures of different types of girls. Judging from my expression and body language, none of the girls are to my liking.
But one day, while I sat in the audience at a big company presentation, the most beautiful girl walked across the stage.
The drawing is of a stage with Brooke approaching the podium. The audience in the foreground is dark, with simple lines indicating the people in their seats, except for one seat where there’s more detail. It’s as if a beam of light shines down on me, and from my expression as I watch her, it’s obvious I’m enraptured.
She was smart, and funny, warm and charming…and so, so beautiful.
I happily sketch a close up shot of Brooke at the podium, smiling as only Brooke can do.
And in that single moment, I fell in love…
From then on, everything was you, Brooke.
The page features a close up of me, my eyes wider than my glasses as I watch her. There is a thought bubble over my head where she is in my arms and little hearts float around us.
So every day after I would watch you from afar, trying to get the nerve to approach you. But what I saw was how other men admired you. Your charm was undeniable. What would I say if I ever got to talk to you? I couldn’t imagine you would ever want to date a guy like me.
I smile as I draw Brooke chatting on her cell phone, while standing next to a sign that states, “All Brooke Admirers Wait Here.” A collection of men in line go to the very edge of the page.
When I finally accepted that I’d never have a chance with you, I took all my passion and dreams and put my energy into creating a character in your likeness. Finally, you were part of my world…
And B-Girl was born.
B-Girl stands majestically in the middle of the page, with sparkling eyes and flowing hair, just as I’d always envisioned her.
I dedicated myself to B-Girl, making her strong, brave and beautiful…just like you, Brooke.
The rendering is of me back at my drafting table, but now enthusiastically working, a finished B-Girl comic at my side.
And then one day, when I least expected it…you walked into my world, and it was as if a door had opened…I will remember that day for the rest of my life.
Grinning in my bow-tied polo shirt with the pocket protector, I’m showing Brooke her Geek World purchase. She’s smiling at me too.
And I knew I finally had my chance. I made up my mind that I wouldn’t ever give up again until you were mine.
A fine drawing of me presenting Brooke with her first macchiato Starbucks cup drawing follows.
Page after page, my pencil follows after me as I relive our journey in a storyboard style. There are the ups and downs, the coffee break visits, the Dani farce, the hidden comic books and an annoying monkey lurking in the background. As the story progresses I increasingly add bits of color to the sketches until the drawing where Brooke hands me the note card the night we professed our love.
The memories of that life-changing moment overwhelm me. How do I make her understand that she’s made me a better man? She’s taught me how to love with my whole heart, so intensely that there’s a profound longing every time we’re apart. I can’t beg, but I don’t know how to go on without her. Nothing means as much to me without her in my life.
The final drawing of the group is of me alone in my studio holding a drawing of B-Girl and thinking of Brooke. My despair and longing is tangible in my drawn expression. As I study it I know this can’t be the last frame of our story…it just can’t.
The next time I look up, it’s noon and the studio is flooded with light. As I finish and close the sketchbook, I feel a surge of promise. Somewhere deep in my heart I know that when Brooke sees this, it will help her find her way back to me.
For the first time since my world with her fell apart…I feel hope again.