“Yes, that was right after we were married,” Mom chimes in. “I felt so bad for Arthur, he was always frustrated.”
“And I was lucky because my sweet wife was willing to go without, so that I could try to make a living on my own.”
“I’ve always believed in you…and I knew you would be so much happier forging your own path.”
Dad nods in agreement. “It’s liberating to be able to make a sensible decision of your own, without having a gaggle of naysayers to offer up their two and a half cents.”
Brooke laughs out loud. “Yes, being able to make decisions without a committee is exactly what I need.”
I look at my parents and realize I hadn’t really heard them talk about this period of their lives around me in years. They’ve weathered their struggles so well, and it gives me hope that Brooke and I can too.
We all pitch in to clean up. Brooke and I clear the table. Dad’s washing the dishes while Mom puts things away. I keep noticing Brooke watching them with wonder. At one point Mom goes up to Dad while he’s working and kisses him on the cheek then whispers something in his ear. He laughs, then suddenly turns around and pulls her close for a kiss, his soapy wet hands wrapped around her waist.
Brooke catches me observing them and she blushes. I’m so used to Mom and Dad’s affection that I don’t think anything about it, but it seems to be a revelation to Brooke.
Before we leave Mom asks me to take the scraps to her composting thing in the back of the garden. Brooke follows me out and seems to be paying particular attention to the look and layout of the garden as I finish my task.
At one point she just stops and takes it all in. “It’s so beautiful out here,” she says softly.
“It sure it is,” I agree. “And now that you’re their heroine, they’ll want you to hang out here all the time.”
She grins. “They like me, don’t they Nathan?”
I pull her into my arms. “They love you,” I assure her. “But how could they not? My mom told me once that she always hoped I’d meet someone like you.”
The kiss that follows lingers as a shimmer of light falls over us through the trees. Everything just feels incredibly right; it’s that moment when the final piece of the puzzle slides into place.
We say our goodbyes to my parents and head to the phone store. As we get out of the car, Brooke pulls out her cell phone and examines it. “Arnauld picked this out for me and I think when we’re done buying a new one I’m going to run over this one with my car.”
“I’ll be happy to help you with that,” I joke. But I’m not joking as I imagine backing up and going forward, over and over.
Brooke getting a new phone is going to be cathartic for us both. Even though it escapes logic, I feel betrayed by the old phone as it didn’t help me reach her during my days of desperate need.
Once inside the store, I stand back and watch Brooke with the salesman as she tries every phone that fits her requirements. She asks all the right questions and makes a confident decision. I make it a point not to chime in like Arnold would. Besides, I love watching my girl in action. She knows what she wants.
I hold her hand while we wait for them to do the data transfer and get her paperwork set. She looks at me bright-eyed. “This is a fresh start, isn’t it?” she asks smiling.
I nod and kiss her on the forehead.
“It’s funny how the small things can make me so happy,” she shares.
I nod. “I’m like that too.”
The salesman hands her the bag full of phone stuff, and she turns towards me. “Can we go home now?” She realizes her slip and corrects herself. “…I mean, back to your house?”
I grin. “Sure, let’s go.”
Back at my place I try to keep the mood casual. While I water the plants in the backyard, Brooke sits out on the back porch working on something. When I approach her to see what’s she’s up to, she pulls it up to her chest to hide it. I realize she has my sketchbook and the colored pencils I gave her are spread out next to her.
“What’re you doing?” I ask in a casual voice.
“None of your concern,” she answers, making a face at me.
“Is that the sketchbook I gave you?”
“Maybe,” she teases.
“Are you doing a drawing for me?”
“Maybe.”
I smile and continue watering the flowers next to the porch.
“Hey Nathan, you know I’m not good at drawing, right?” she asks, suddenly worried.
“Brooke, I don’t care if you draw stick-figures, I just want to see us the way you do.”
“I think this should be in the future since there’s no mystery as to where we are right now.”
“That’s true.” I grin at her words and the certainty in her tone. The reality of our relationship is no longer a question that needs an answer.
“The future’s good,” I agree. “How about a couple of years from now?”
She tips her head considering, but doesn’t seem convinced.
“…or five years or how about ten?” I figure I’m pushing it, but why not? As far as I’m concerned, Brooke owns all of my future.
Her eyes light up like she has a picture in her mind. “Okay,” she replies smiling, before ducking her head and getting back to work. But then she looks up again.
“This won’t be a masterpiece, but it’ll be from my heart.”
“That’s what matters the most to me,” I assure her.
“But your drawings are so amazing,” she laments.
“Brooke,” I warn her. “What did I say?”
“That the fact that it’s from my heart matters most to you.” She grins.
“Exactly.”
After dinner I ask Brooke if she wants to see a movie, but she has something else in mind. She still hasn’t shown me her drawing, but I figure when she’s ready to, she will. I watch her expression as she tries to decide what to do.
“Nathan.” She pauses and seems hesitant, then finally looks up at me. “Would it be okay if you showed me your studio again…you know, where you work on B-Girl.”
I smile inside. “Sure, I’d love to.” I guide her by the hand down the hall and into the studio. She’s been in this room before, but back then she didn’t know about B-Girl. This will be a much different visit. I point to the drafting table. “This is where I’ve sat endless nights thinking about you and drawing B-Girl.”
She smiles sweetly at me, noticing the Wonder Woman figurine overlooking where I create.
Before we start I pull open my flat files and take the current work out and spread it across my drafting table. There’s already a full set of the printed final B-Girl issues at the side of the table closest to her.
She looks shy and apprehensive to be here, but I’m excited. She reaches up and slides the top comic toward her. “You’ve got such a great story sense, Nathan. And you have no idea how much I love B-Girl, and not just because I inspired her…she’s a great character.”
“You read them already?” I ask, pointing to the stack of comics. “All of them?”
“Yes, I did…of course. I read them all this week and loved every single issue.”
I smile at her. She can only imagine how long I’ve hoped to hear those words.
“Can you tell me about your process?” She asks excitedly. “How do you get your story ideas? Do you write the entire story out first, then go back and illustrate it?”
I love it so much that she’s genuinely interested in how I do this. I pull out of the pile loose pages of notes and some rudimentary layouts to show her. “I outline the story first, then do a real rough layout where I start blocking in the type.”
“I can’t believe you’ve done all of this yourself,” she says with admiration.
“Well, luckily I’m pretty fast. And besides, it’s exciting to me. I’m inspired since I’ve always been in love with my subject…” I grin at her and she grins back. “…and I still am.”
She runs her fingers along my arm. “So what are you working on now?”