Animate Me / Chapter Sixteen / Santa, the Easter Bunny and Brooke

“Aw, the poor puddy tat! He fall down and go… BOOM!” ~Tweety Bird

The thing is…she said she would call me tonight. Not tomorrow, not the night after, not sometime…but tonight. So when she doesn’t, I start to freak. I just have a bad feeling because of how my meeting went with Arnold. I know after the amazing and intimate night Brooke and I had, that she wouldn’t just disregard me like this.

I pace through my house for over two hours, before finally forcing myself into bed at midnight with my phone on my nightstand. The ringer is turned on high so it’ll wake me up if she calls while I’m asleep. But as it turns out, the high volume isn’t necessary; I can’t sleep, and she doesn’t call.

I try to play it cool at work. Too paranoid to call upstairs looking for her, I just force myself to draw until it’s time to defiantly leave for Starbucks. To hell with Arnold, telling me I can’t bring Brooke coffee.

I know Brooke didn’t forget to call me, something happened: like every one of her phones died and she was pulled into an endless all-day meeting as soon as she arrived. I’m so worked up that my Buzz Lightyear sketch on her Starbucks’ cup is half-hearted. She deserves better, and I know it.

As I head up the elevator I wonder what I will say if Arnold sees that I have completely disregarded his “orders” to quit my coffee time with Brooke. But as it turns out, I didn’t need to consider the potential fallout. For when I approach her office my worst fears are confirmed. Her office is dark and Brooke-less. I turn to Morgan and she nods silently. She seems to know something is up in that creepy secretary way.

I hand Morgan the coffee. “Where is she?”

“Arnauld took her on a surprise trip to Bacara, that resort just outside Santa Barbara.”

“On a Tuesday?” I ask, bewildered.

“Monday night actually. Freaky huh? I knew they were having dinner, but I knew nothing about this trip. Alana didn’t either,” she confides.

“So how did you find out?” I ask, gripping the edge of her desk so I don’t fall over.

“I got a weird email from her blackberry at nine p.m. last night. She said he was taking her to celebrate the Emmy win. She then gave me a list of meetings to cancel. They won’t be back in the office until Thursday.”

I look at her stunned.

“The other weird thing is that Arnauld gave Alana instructions to throw a big party this Saturday for the whole company to celebrate the win. You know, our first Emmy in two years.”

“Poor Alana, she’s going nuts…I mean a party for four hundred people by Saturday. I’m trying to help her. I’ve got all of these lists going.” She fans her hands over several printouts that are striped in different colors of highlighter.

She suddenly picks one up and moans. “Damn, I’m sorry Nathan. I was supposed to call you.” She points to one of the items on the list.

“What does it say?”

“Please contact Nathan right away and tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t call, but we’ll talk when I get back. Shit…she said to contact you right away. I had it in my head to tell you when you came up for Starbucks time. Sorry, I screwed up.”

I want to strangle her, but I stay as calm as possible. “Yeah, I was worried when I didn’t hear from her,” I admit. Of course, I can’t tell her that I’m far more worried now.

I should’ve never underestimated Arnold. The crafty bastard didn’t crawl to the top of his profession by being slow-witted. He obviously is not one to be outdone.

“Have you heard from her since that email?”

“No,” she says without hesitation. “But it’s a romantic getaway—I’m not expecting to.”

Damn, just kill me now and put me out of this misery. My Brooke is at a fancy resort with hairy back, being wined and dined, massaged and pampered. What does she get from me? Fumbling foot massages, paper cup drawings and In-N-Out. I don’t stand a chance and I’m starting to wonder why I ever thought I did. Before the despair fully kicks in I decide to make a quick exit. “Okay, thanks Morgan. If you hear anything else, will you let me know?”

She takes a sip of Brooke’s coffee, her fingers carelessly covering the Buzz drawing. I turn my head so I don’t have to watch.

“Sure, Nathan.”

I don’t even remember the walk back to my cube.

Once back at my animation desk I consider my options. I obsess on the idea of driving to this Bacara place. What I can’t figure out is what I would do once I get there…run into them casually at dinner? Yeah, I just happened to be in the area and heard the food here was really good. Would I spy on them by the pool while perched up in a tree? Probably not…with my luck I’d get flustered seeing Brooke in a bikini, and plummet to my death—or worse, survive only to face public humiliation via Mojo Jojo.

It’s not like Brooke was kidnapped. As much as I love the idea of saving her, I can’t break down the door to their suite, pull him off of her, beat him to a pulp and then carry her away in my arms. I do, however make a note to save this idea for future wanking fodder…especially the manly carrying her off in my arms part.

No, Brooke went of her own free will. Maybe she was even excited about it. He is her boyfriend after all. Romantic getaways sound like something girls really like. I’d like one too if it were with Brooke, even if there weren’t a comic convention involved.

I rest my face in my hands and lean over a really bad Bernie drawing.

Damn Nathan, this obsessing isn’t helping anything.

In desperation I grab my cell phone, and reach out to Curtis, hoping I catch him during one of those very brief periods where he isn’t completely distracted by Billie.

“Curtis,” I groan when he answers his phone.

“Hey dude, you sound like crap. What’s wrong with you?”

“Brooke’s been kidnapped,” I say, not hiding the devastation in my voice.

“What the fuck? Are you serious?”

I realize that wording may not have been wise. “Well actually, by her boyfriend. He suddenly took her to Santa Barbara for some mid-week romantic get-away.”

“Dude, do-not-do-that! I was getting amped up to go all Rambo and help you hunt down whoever kidnapped her.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t handle this, Curtis. I don’t know what to do. Can we go get a beer or something?”

“I’m supposed to pick up Billie at her store soon to go get burgers. Why don’t you come?”

“I don’t want to mess up your date, but a female perspective might be helpful with this too.”

“Okay, I’ll call and warn her you’re coming. Why don’t you meet us at her shop at six-thirty.”

I rush to finish my work so that I can sneak out a little early. My favorite comic book store sounds like the most comforting place in the world to be right now.

When I pass through the doors I take a deep breath and feel instantly calmer now that I’m in one of my happy places. Billie is on the phone, so I wave to her and head over to the New Release section to check out the latest Thor issue. I’m several pages into the story when Billie comes up behind me.

“So Curtis says you’ve got it bad, Nathan.”

I sigh and put the book back on the rack before turning to her. “Yeah, Billie…real bad.”

“So he wasn’t toying with me? You really are in love with Brooke, and were doing this thing with Dani to stir things up?”

“Something like that,” I admit.

“That was sure stupid,” she says, matter-of-factly, her fists perched on her hips.

“Yeah, well, I never claimed to be good at this love stuff. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s amazing I’ve gotten as far with her as I have.”

“Did you do it?” she asks, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

I look down, my cheeks burning. But I realize that I’m not going to get good advice unless I’m honest. “Yes, we did. And now she’s doing it with her boyfriend at some fancy resort.”

“Oh, bummer, dude.”

“I don’t even know now why she did it with me.”

“Shut up, Evans. I don’t want to hear you talking like that. You’re such a catch and you’re just too stupid to realize it. I used to think that your cluelessness was kind of charming, but now it’s getting old.”

Billie thinks I’m a catch? I scratch my head, bewildered.

“So how was the sex? Was it good?”

“I thought it was amazing.”

“Did she ask you to spend the night?”

I nod.

“Morning sex?”

“Yes,” I admit, embarrassed.

She folds her tattooed arms over her chest and tips her head up, like she’s calculating something.

“Here’s the deal. Brooke is falling for you, but it’s complicated.”

I blanch. It’s eerie she repeated Brooke’s exact word: complicated. I nod briskly, encouraging her to tell me more.

“Arnauld is her boss, and you’re making her realize that he doesn’t give her what she needs, but her life and work are built around him. He’s now realized what’s happening and he’s doing damage control to protect his assets. He’s probably brain-washing her as we speak.”

“Arggg,” I moan. “Yes, yes. He’s brainwashing her, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. What do I do, Billie?”

Just then Curtis walks through the door and saunters over to us, pulling Billie into his arms.

“Hey bro,” he says as he holds her.

“You’ve got one brilliant girlfriend Curtis,” I tell him, gesturing towards Billie.

“Don’t I know it,” he laughs. “She’s sure as hell smarter than me.”

“Damn right,” she agrees, smiling.

We head over to Mo’s Café and over beers and burgers plot my strategy to pull Brooke out of Arnold’s web.

“Be chill when she gets back dude, don’t act like a crazy obsessed stalker cause that will turn her off for sure,” Curtis advises.

I turn to Billie. “Did you really mean what you said at the shop, that Brooke is falling for me?” I want to believe that so much it hurts.

Billie nods. “But you’ve got to let her figure this out in her own time. If you push her it will backfire.”

I take a swig of my beer and give myself a silent lecture to allow Brooke some space. As desperately as I want her back in my arms, I have to look toward the future. I have to be the together, loving person she would want to be with. Not the wound-up, desperately in love man, I really am.

• • •

The next day, when I step into the break room, there’s a crowd gathered around a large flier on the bulletin board.

“Par-tay! I know just what I’m going to wear!” Dani calls out. “Wait until you see how hot I’m going to look Saturday night.”

I catch Nick rolling his eyes, but I also see him fighting a smile.

“I can’t believe they rented the Palace,” replies Genna. “That must have cost a fortune.”

“Palace? Is this thing in the kingdom of Far Far Away? Will we be in the presence of royalty?” Andy snickers. “If so, I’ll make sure and wear a clean T-shirt.”

“No, idiot,” Joel responds. “It’s that club in Hollywood. Do you ever get out of your man-cave?”

“Only when I’m out of brews and Cheetos.”

“Our noble leader must be spending a fortune. We didn’t even get cost of living increases this year, what’s he trying to prove?” asks Kevin.

“Word is that he’s trying to impress his lady, that Brooke chick who does development,” Andy chimes in.

I bristle and curl my hands into fists. It offends me deeply to hear her name pass through Andy’s slobbering lips. Never mind that I almost threw up in my mouth after hearing her referred to as a chick let alone Arnauld’s “lady.”

“Well, if he wants to impress her he could take what he’s spending on this shindig and pay for a wedding. That would make more sense. They could have kids and start their own animation dynasty.”

“Oooo, maybe it’s a surprise royal wedding and we’re all invited!” squeals Genna.

“If that’s the case I’m not bothering to pull out a clean T-shirt. This one will do,” Andy grumbles as he pulls down the hem, so we see Charlie Brown’s stretched face.

Dani looks over at me. I can see the concern on her face, but I keep my expression calm even though I’m getting more nauseated as each second passes. I slowly work my way over to the counter and pour myself another coffee, before heading out of the break room. Dani catches up with me in the hallway.

“Are you okay, Nathan?” she asks gently.

“Not really. But what can I do? He took her out of town and I can’t talk to her to know what’s going on. Until they get back from their trip I’m driving blind, hoping I don’t crash.”

“Are you coming on Saturday?” She asks.

“I don’t think I can avoid it, but I’m sure not looking forward to it.”

“Well, I’ll be there if you need a friend to hang with. We can go together if you want.”

“Thanks, Dani. You’re a good friend.”

The rest of the afternoon is tantamount to Chinese water torture. Horrible thoughts drip with a consistent pace through my mind, while I pray for my sanity. Drip, drip, drip, drip…only time will tell how long I can hold on.

That evening I try to work on my comic book but the first line I draw of B-Girl undoes me. I end up resorting to hard liquor and watching bootleg versions of the censored wartime cartoons to numb my mind until I finally pass out in a Looney Tunes stupor.

Thursday I hear through the grapevine that Arnold and Brooke are back and there’s a meeting first thing with his team about Saturday’s event. Genna’s friend is the CFO’s assistant so we get all of our info directly through her.

Evidently it’s going to be a full on party: there’s going to be a DJ with a dance floor, catered food, open bar…the works. I didn’t think animators danced, but I’m sure the assistants and accounting staff will make up for us uncoordinates, and get out there and boogie. The whole thing sounds like a major pain-in-the-ass production and we’re all expected to go.

I’m so anxious to talk to Brooke but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to head upstairs until I know more. Maybe I can drop by her house after work?

After lunch I force myself to get into the cartoon groove and work on animating a new scene. I’m drawing away and listening to my iPod when I sense someone’s watching me.

I look up to see Brooke just inside my cube. She looks rested and has pink cheeks. She also looks apprehensive about being here.

I peel out my earbuds and set my pencil down. “Hi,” I say softly. I’m so relieved to see her, but nervous as well.

“Hi Nathan.” She smiles at me sweetly, but it seems edged with sadness. I immediately realize that she isn’t going to hug me. Maybe it’s cause we’re at work, and she’s afraid someone will see. I try to tell myself.

“How are you? Did you have a good time in Santa Barbara?” I’m trying to not obsess over the idea that everything feels different between us now, and not in a good way.

She nods. “Yeah, it was nice…really beautiful there. Have you ever been to Barcara?”

“No, but I considered it once.” I leave out the part where “once” means on Tuesday when I found out she was there with Arnold.

“Well, the time away gave me time to think about things.”

“Things?” I ask nervously. This isn’t going well.

“Yeah, and I think it may be a good idea not to do the coffee visits anymore, so I thought I should drop by and tell you before you go.” She looks down.

It was one thing to hear this from Arnold, but something else entirely with Brooke. Doesn’t she realize how much this will hurt me?

Well, she must have no idea. She didn’t even warn me before she ripped the Band-Aid for my obsession off, and now here I am with my disappointment exposed between us.

I just stare at her with my mouth twisted. I can’t form words, and finally I turn away.

“Okay, sure,” I finally reply once I’m facing my animation table and not her huge sad eyes. My head has fallen forward and it almost feels like I’m talking to the Bucky drawing I just finished, but he’s distracted because his head’s on fire. I push the drawing away from me and lean into my elbows.

“Nathan,” she insists, trying to regain my attention. “Don’t act that way.”

“Act what way?”

“Like I’ve disappointed you.” Her expression’s worried, taking away all the happy pink coloring from her restful getaway.

“Oh.”

I leave it there—no lace trim, or creamy filling…just oh. It’s one tiny word that holds much more than its weight in despair. You don’t think you’ve disappointed me, Brooke? Well, try climbing into this broken heart and tell me if you like the view.

“Come on, Nathan…I came down here to see you and make plans.”

“Plans? What do you want to do?” I try a fake enthusiastic voice. I’m battling a weird unsettled feeling. I can’t help it. I turn back to face her.

“Are you free early Saturday? I have to pick up something at Fred Segal’s and I thought we could get outfits for the party together…then have lunch or something.”

Pick outfits together? I break into a cold sweat. We slept together and now she wants to go shopping?

Maybe she thinks I can be her BFF for our own episode of What Not to Wear. I’ve seen that show at my Mom’s house, and I fear she will make me stand in front of those horrifying three way mirrors. I don’t need that experience to know I don’t dress right. Besides I loathe clothes shopping.

But what stings much more is knowing that I am now merely her shopping buddy. I assume I’m no longer her Starbucks bearing, beer drinking, couch cuddling, cartoon compatriot, buddy/lover. To say that my manhood just shrunk, both metaphorically and in actuality, would be a vast understatement. I try to regain my equilibrium.

She tips her head wondering why I haven’t responded. Thank God she can’t hear this conversation in my head. Something occurs to me and I speak up.

“Who’s Fred Segal anyway…is he a friend of yours?” Hell. Maybe she’s planned a gay set-up. I must have been much worse in bed than I could’ve ever imagined.

“A friend?” She laughs. “Oh, man…I’ve missed you. No, Fred Segal is a chic store in West Hollywood that has all the hippest stuff. A lot of music and film people shop there.”

“Why would I want to shop there? I’m not hip,” I point out.

“No, but you could be,” she encourages.

Oh. Is that it? I’m not hip. Suddenly everything becomes clear, yet still feels dirty. Where’d my beautiful Brooke go who didn’t care so much about that stuff? A few days with Mojo and this is where it leaves us?

I don’t want to be hip, Brooke. I don’t care about being hip. I just want you.

“Is this what you want?” I ask quietly.

“Yes, I want you to come with me. I want to spend time with you. Besides, we’ll have fun.”

I nod, my resolve outweighing my concerns. “When should I get you?”

“How about eleven. I’ll be home from my Zumba class and showered by then.”

I’ll miss the yoga pants, I realize with despair. I agree because what choice do I have? As wrong as this feels right now, I can’t give up yet. Not at least until I learn what’s really going on in her mind and if I still have any chance at all.

Damn Brooke, evidently while you were away I lost my mojo, and you seemed to rediscover yours…your very own hip Mojo Jojo with the furry back and apparently impressive mind-control abilities.

• • •

For dinner that night I make tuna fish on Ritz crackers with cherry tomatoes on the side because I like the way those little red balls explode in my mouth. I’m trying to have a good attitude but even my favorite dinner doesn’t cheer me up. I’m just about ready to go to my studio when the phone rings.

“Hi Nathan.”

It’s unusual for her to call during the week so I am a bit alarmed. “Everything okay, Mom?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I was just thinking about you and wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Moms and their intuition. If she’s going to ask, I’m not going to hold back.

“Well remember that scene where Sylvester thinks he’s flying up to Tweety’s nest and he gets so excited, but then he remembers that he can’t fly, and in despair, crashes to the ground? Well I’m Sylvester, and that pretty much sums up how things are going for me.”

“Oh no, that doesn’t sound good at all. What happened with Brooke?”

“She just came back from a romantic few days with her boyfriend and now we can’t have coffee together anymore in the afternoons. It’s the beginning of the end.”

“But Nathan, you knew from the start that she was with that man. Why are you surprised?”

“I just thought we were getting closer and had something special. But I must’ve been wrong.”

“Those things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, Nathan. She may care about him and you too. I could tell she really likes you and I would imagine you’ve gotten even closer since I saw you two together.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I offer as I think about her asleep, curled up against me in her bed. My world felt perfect at that moment.

“Hasn’t she been with him a long time? Isn’t he her boss?”

“Yes,” I whisper. Don’t say it…don’t say it…

“It’s complicated Nathan.”

Damn. She said it.

“And you know what?”

Don’t say it…don’t say it…

“You have to have faith.”

Ugh. She said it. I knew she would.

I believe in Pixar, the tenacity of Walt Disney and number two pencils. I’m not so sure about a God who didn’t give me the skills or appeal to win my true love.

“But Mom, what kind of God would present me a Brooke and then take her away? And then she ends up with a damn monkey, not even someone who deserves her.”

“A monkey?” she asks bewildered.

“It’s a long story. Never mind.”

“Look Nathan, there’s a reason you both are going through this. I don’t know what it is but I do know it will make you stronger and even better if you finally get together. If you can find your faith it will get you through.”

“I wish I could believe that,” I moan.

“You’ll still see her around work, won’t you?”

“Not really, we’re on different floors. She did ask me to go shopping with her Saturday. What do you think that means. Do you think she thinks I’m gay?”

“No. She knows you’re not gay. Where do you come up with these things, really! It means she wants to spend time with you away from that Arnold’s world…some place you two can just be, without any pressure or people watching.”

“Really?” I suddenly feel more hopeful realizing she may be right.

“Yes,” she confirms. “I really think this can still work out, Nathan. So make the most of your shopping date. Be sweet and kind with her. Be yourself.”

I hold onto my mom’s words; they wrap around me and hold me up. She makes me want to believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny and my future with Brooke.

So for added motivation, after I crawl in bed, I wire myself up for the Dr. Wayne Dyer recording about relationships. I don’t fall asleep until he’s convinced me that I can take my destiny into my own hands. I can’t give up yet.

• • •

Saturday morning I get up early and take a run, eat some Fruit Loops and then shower and shave. I give myself a pep talk as I put on some of that cologne my mom gave me for Christmas. I’m looking my best and ready to go see Brooke.

When I pull up to her place she’s waiting by the gate. Either she’s really excited to see me or she doesn’t want me to go inside. I try to convince myself the former when I see the big smile on her face.

“Hey you!” she says as she slides into her seat. “Looking forward to our outing?”

“Well, I’m looking forward to being with you,” I reply smiling.

“What’s this?” She asks, pointing to the cup holder section of my car.

“Well, I know I can’t get you your macchiatos at work anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t other times,” I insist.

“Oh, Nathan,” she sighs happily, wedging her foamy drink out of the cup holder to take a sip. “You even did a drawing for me!” She holds it up and studies it with a big grin on her face.

“Yeah, it’s me post-shopping at the hip store.”

“Oh, it’s great! You’re so clever. Thank you.”

“Guess what else?” I grin as I reach in the back, grab the bag and set it on her lap.

“Krispy Kreme doughnuts!” she squeals.

“You didn’t…how could you? Now all my Zumba-ing is for naught.” She tears open the bag and pulls out a doughnut, immediately taking a bite.

“Sorry,” I mumble, grinning. But as I watch her close her eyes in anticipation of that warm sugary rush of perfection, I’m not sorry at all—not one little bit.

“Mmmm.” She closes her eyes as she chews. She has the most sublime expression on her face. “So good…”

As we wind down the hill towards the land of hip, she feeds me bites, in-between hers. I watch her lick her sticky fingers, her eyes dancing as she reaches into the bag for more to share.

I feel alive again, like a remastered cartoon print where every color is brighter and more vivid, every detail sharper. We laugh and joke in our own bubble, sugar flakes falling over us like snow on this brilliant California day.