Chapter 21

Mark

If there was ever a day that I needed a drink, it was today. Going back to work had been hard enough, keeping my game face on in front of Brooke and Jake. But now the prospect of going home was unbearable.

I’d thought seeing Brooke, and having her explain things to me would make it better. But now I just felt worse.

Gebraldine was pretty empty, it was only 5 p.m., after all.

Natalia smiled when she saw me.

“Hello, stranger.”

“Hello,” I said, “I’d like a pitcher of Rickard’s Red.”

“Meeting someone?” she asked, with a sly wink.

“Just my demons,” I said, raising an empty glass in front of me.

Natalia chuckled. That is—until she realized I wasn’t kidding. Then she hurried off to get my pitcher. Only once I was a quarter deep into that full-flavored ale it did I begin to feel any semblance of better. Although the thoughts didn’t really leave, they only got blurred in their intensity. The first woman I like in—well, forever—and she wants to be with both me and my best friend. What the fuck was up with that? Being a ‘throuple’ sounded all kinds of messed-up too. Like something you saw on a reality TV show, not something you actually did in real life.

Then there was the whole work situation. Today, Brooke had been walking around on pins and needles—probably afraid of losing her job. That was ridiculous. She was the best nurse we’d ever had. And, even with what happened—that wouldn’t change it.

I took another long swig, and sloshed the beer around my mouth. But then again, Brooke was right. Things couldn’t continue indefinitely like this—Jake and I barely speaking, her tiptoeing around as if an extended look at one of us could set the other off. Which it did, actually. It pained me to see the way she was with Jake— it pained me. And yet, wasn’t that better than not having her at all? Brooke was the most remarkable woman I’d ever met; wouldn’t I kick myself if I didn’t at least give this crazy-ass thing a try? And what if I agreed to it, but Jake didn’t—would Brooke still refuse to give us a go?

I swirled my beer glass with my hand, so that the dregs in the bottom shook around. So many questions, and so few answers.

I cast a sad glance across the half-empty bar. There was nobody else here like me—drowning their sorrows—not yet. No, there was an attractive couple, serenely feeding each other green beans. There was a gaggle of older women in the one corner, guffawing and gossiping, exclaiming about something or another. And then, in the far corner, there was a family. They looked like a prototype for the American Dream—a handsome husband and a pretty blonde wife, and a rosy fat little baby. They were all smiling at each other, clearly happy. If I was being perfectly honest, wasn’t that what I had imagined for myself eventually? Maybe not now, but ten years from now or something. That’s how it went—you meet the girl, you have the family— how was I supposed to do any of that now? Have a kid and raise it with two fathers?

I poured most of what remained in my pitcher into my glass. Really, it wasn’t like I’d been raised normally or right myself—instead of parents, I’d basically had a grandmother for God’s sake. And I’d turned out okay—more or less.

“Mark, you sure you’re ok?” Natalia asked.

Her beautiful face was set into a sympathetic expression, her blue eyes seeking out mine.

My ‘yes’ lie was on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn’t quite say it. Because the truth was—I wasn’t okay. Not one bit. I wasn’t okay, being alone here—when the only place I wanted to be was with Brooke.

I took a long gulp of my beer, until it was finished. Then, setting the glass on the counter, I told her the truth.

“No, I’m not. But I will be.”

I walked out over the black tile floor, out to the cool air outside. Right outside the door there, I sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. Yep, I knew exactly what I needed to do—and who I needed to see.

It took a while to flag down a cab—it was like the bastards could smell my drunkenness from a block away. Anyway, once I clambered in, I gave the driver Brooke’s address and we were off.

My cab driver was named Terence. He was a smallish man with a sparse little beard and darting eyes.

“You ever loved someone who didn’t love you back, Terence?” I asked him.

He gave me the measured look of the cab driver who has had to transport many a talkative drunk customer.

“Yes.”

“And what was it like?” I asked.

“Horrible,” he said. For a second his eyes stopped darting, fixed on a point ahead of him, then drooped, “I would’ve given anything to have it work out.”

Anything, eh? I studied Terence’s face, which had returned to normal, eye-darting and all. Was that what I’d give to be with Brooke—anything? Even her being with my best friend, too? I wasn’t sure anymore.

Getting to Brooke’s apartment was a job and a half. At first, I’d had to spar with the front desk attendant, who’d tried to claim there was no Brooke in the apartment. Finally, I’d snapped and stormed off myself, and located a light-up guest directory and phone. Dialing the number beside Brooke’s name brought no response on the phone I was holding. I did it several times, before cursing and giving up. Fear panged through me—what if Brooke was over at Jake’s right now?

Finally, I staggered up to the elevator and put my key in a slot by the elevator buttons and turned it. To my surprise, the elevator button lit up and, seconds later, the elevator itself had come.

I whooped, then clambered on. Through my desperate directory perusing and Brooke buzzing, I had discovered she was in Room 812. So, up to Floor 8 I went.

At first, when I knocked on the door, there was no response. But several knocks later, Brooke was opening the door, eyeing me sleepily.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

God, she was so pretty, even half-asleep. Between the way her hair was all balled up in a sloppy bun, and her half-open tired eyes—I could have kissed her right now.

“I, I’m drunk,” I said, “Can I come in?”

She wavered, as if unsure if letting me in was the right thing to do

“I came to see you,” I admitted, “What you told me has been messing with my head. Please, Brooke.”

At this, her face softened and, nodding, she let me in.

Inside, her apartment was as clean and orderly as I’d expect—hell there wasn’t even a dirty dish in the sink.

“It’s nice,” I said, my gaze going to her.

She was wearing these frog pajamas, but really, I just wanted to see what was underneath. I lurched ahead, my arms closing around her. Brooke allowed me that hug. I pressed all of me onto her—my tired arms, my hardening dick, my loopy head, my sadness, my longing, and my grief. And, when she drew away, I saw she had some of that in her eyes, too.

“I’m really tired,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed over my shoulder, “You okay with sleeping on the couch?”

No sooner had I said “Yeah, I’m—” then was she helping me over to a grey couch.

“I really like you,” I said, as she helped lower me down.

She smiled in spite of herself, but then the smile drooped.

“I really like you too, Mark. But I meant what I said.”

“I know I—it’s just fucked, isn’t it? And what about Jake? I should talk to Jake,” I said, half-to-myself.

Brooke patted my chest, an affectionate look coming over her face.

“You should.”

As she turned to go, I said, “But Brooke?”

She paused.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?”

A shadow passed over her eyes, as she sat on the armrest of the couch.

“Yes, I have.”

She said it so simply, so sadly. Did she mean what I think she meant?

When she rose, I couldn’t leave it like that.

“And what did you do? What are you supposed to do?”

She kept her gaze far-off. As if sensing that meeting my eye would be the start of a dance between our bodies that couldn’t be stopped.

“I don’t know what you’re supposed to do, Mark. I don’t know much of anything anymore.”

This she said even quieter and more miserably than the last statement, so much that my heart ached. Looking at her like that, so tense and upset, everything in me wanted to make it better. I wanted to stand up and cup her head against my chest. I wanted to envelop her sadness in my arms, rock it to sleep, stroke her hair until we both forgot what we were here for. But I could see that Brooke was tired and wouldn’t want that—as much as she may have needed it.

I closed my eyes, but she was there too. Brooke. Still in the room, but naked—strutting towards me. Grinding herself up on me.

“Goodnight Mark,” she said.

I opened my eyes and it was the real Brooke who’d said it. The one who wouldn’t have me—at least not in the way I needed her.

“Wait, Brooke,” I said.

I strained my head up to meet her eye. For the life of me, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her pouty little lips.

“I shouldn’t kiss you, should I?”

She smiled wearily, as if she’d already answered this question a hundred times.

“No, you shouldn’t, Mark.”

“But it would feel good, wouldn’t it?” I continued.

“It would,” she said with a nod.

“But can’t we—I mean can’t I—just for a second?”

Right now, the thought of not kissing her now—of never kissing her again—seemed unbearable.

“Goodnight Mark,” she said.

And then she’d walked away. I still wanted to kiss her but she was unreachable in the dark— unreachably far. My mind was too fuzzy—and even my tongue was fuzzy. Fuzzy-stupid, that was why I’d driven her away. Now—and maybe for good.

This time when I closed my eyes, she was there again. Naked and irresistible—irresistibly out of reach. I called out to her and she giggled. As I staggered through the darkness after her, onward she went. Always out of reach, farther than I could get. And when, I finally reached her, when I pounced on her flighty fleeting form—she was gone. My hands clasped on nothing, my trembling heart moaned. She was gone—gone entirely. In chasing her, I’d driven her away.

I woke up with my head hammering and sick from the nightmare. It had been stupid, and hazy— in that purgatory between being awake and asleep. Now, everything was fuzzier than ever—as was my earlier conclusion that I couldn’t share her—not ever.

Yes, in this fuzzy stupid state, a small part of me thought differently. What was sharing Brooke compared to losing her entirely?