Chapter 19

Jake

 

“You want to what?” I asked.

Brooke looked at me with a calm, easy expression, as if what she was suggesting wasn’t the craziest thing I’d heard all month, or maybe ever.

And to think that it had all started off so well. I’d been downright ecstatic when Brooke had asked me to lunch.

“We could even leave a bit earlier if you want,” I’d said, with a wink.

But she’d assured me that the usual time was fine with a wariness about her, and I’d been left with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Once we’d arrived at the Marble Room, my instincts had been proved correct, though it hadn’t happened all at once.

“So,” I’d said, taking her hand, “Did you ask me here because you—”

She had sighed, and my heart fell to the pit of my chest. Her face looked like she was trying to find the words to break the news to me gently.

“Chose me?” I finally said, with a hopeful smile.

“Well, yes,” she said, “And no.”

“What do you mean?” I’d asked in a cold voice.

She’d taken a deep breath, and I had too.

Okay, here it comes.

“I can’t decide between you two, Jake,” she confessed, grabbing my other hand. “I’m sure you can guess why—you’re both quite remarkable in your own way.”

I tried pulling my hand away, but she wouldn’t quite let me.

“So, once again Brooke,” I said, “What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is that this is nice, we are nice together. I don’t want to lose that, do you?”

When I didn’t respond, she’d soldiered on. “What I’m saying is—why can’t we all be together? My friend Karly showed me this article about what’s called a ‘throuple.’ Now, I know it sounds crazy at first, but hear me out. It’s like a couple—with three people. I want us to be a throuple, Jake.

I gaped at her. My heart hadn’t just settled in my chest, it had fallen to the floor in shock.

“You want to what?”

“I want to be with both of you,” she said, smiling nervously, “I want all of us to be together. You and Mark wouldn’t have to do anything together, if that’s what you’re afraid of. All you’d have to do is what you’ve been doing now—be with me, make me happy. Just the way you have been.”

With a gentle smile, she squeezed my hand again. I ripped it away.

“I don’t know about this,” I said, in a low hurt voice, “This has been bothering me like crazy, and I’ve been scared to death of losing you. But I don’t know if I could do that—if it’d be worth it.”

Brooke eyed me, as if noticing my bloodshot eyes with their dark circles for the first time. She lowered her head with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, “I wish it wasn’t like this. I never thought something like this would happen to me.”

“Neither did I,” I said softly, “Neither did I.”

“I told you first because I’ve found that you’re a bit more sensitive,” she said, lifting her hand to stroke my cheek.

I closed my eyes. God, her touch felt so good, so right. And yet, it wasn’t. I cleared my throat.

“Well, you certainly have wounded my poor ego.”

“I am sorry,” she said again.

I shook my head.

“Don’t be. It’s always best to be honest, and that’s exactly what you’ve been with me.”

For the rest of the meal, I made sure things were like before. I was adorably romantic. I airplaned little fingerling potatoes into Brooke’s mouth, and wiped stray sauce off her lips. Under the table, we played footsie. And then, once the bill came, I insisted on paying, taking her hand as it reached for the bill and kissing it. Once we were outside, walking back, she gave me a grateful kiss on the cheek.

“That was wonderful, Jake. Does it mean you’ve agreed to what I proposed?”

I closed my eyes as pain welled up inside of me.

“To tell the truth, I was hoping all that would change your mind,” I admitted, “So, you’re really serious about this throuple thing?”

She nodded, reaching for my hand, which I wouldn’t give her.

“I am,” she said.

“Okay,” I said.

Now, my voice was hard and cold. I wanted to go back to the office—no, I wanted to go home. To my penthouse apartment—alone.

“I don’t want to say no outright,” I said, “Because as insane as it sounds, I should give it some serious consideration—you are too amazing to pass up on a split-second decision. But I can tell you that me agreeing, or Mark for that matter, is really unlikely. I don’t know about him, but for me, seeing you with another man like that would tear me up. And to have it be my best friend, I just don’t know.”

By now, we’d reached the towering high-rise that housed the clinic and surgery suite.

“Just please at least think about it,” she urged me with another squeeze of my hand, “I think that you’re too amazing to pass up on, too.”

I smiled thinly. I wasn’t quite sure whether to believe her this time.

Back in the office, Mark was storming around when we came back.

“Either of you know what happened to my pen?” he demanded.

“Your pen?” I asked blankly.

“Yes, my pen!” he snapped, “While you two were on your romantic little date, some of us were trying to get some work done.”

“Our ‘date’ wasn’t exactly what you thought,” I snapped back, also annoyed.

Why did Brooke want to be with Mark and his over-the-top moodiness anyway? Couldn’t she see how he was always taking things out on us?

“What do you mean?” Mark said.

Brooke nudged me.

“I want to tell him myself,” she said, in an undertone.

“What do you mean?” Mark repeated, louder this time.

“Forget it,” I said, striding away, “And no, I don’t know where your stupid pen is.”

It turned out that Deidre had his precious pen. Although it took him a good hour of storming around to finally locate it on her desk with all the other pens.

“Do you think I should’ve told Mark first?” Brooke asked, after he’d stormed past us toward the bathroom, with no warning whatsoever.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, “Though I guess if you had, I’d be moping around now. So you’d either have a mopey me or a grumpy him—either way you’d lose.”

She let out a musical laugh.

“Yeah, I guess I would.”

We were in the office now, just us. The door was closed and we were in between consultations. She was sitting on the chair next to me, looking at me with her alert hazel eyes and shy smile. God, how I wanted to kiss her.

“Why don’t you just tell him now?” I asked.

She shook her head, frowning.

“You really think I should break it to him as a passing comment?”

I shook my head, remembering how it had felt—like the ground was falling out from under my feet.

“No, you’re right—I think it’s the kind of thing that requires a chair and some food.”

She smiled, then sighed.

“Yeah, exactly. And he already told me he had dinner plans—so I guess it’s lunch tomorrow.”

“He has no dinner plans,” I said, “Mark just visits his grandma Monday night. Usually it’s later at night, but sometimes he does it right after work.”

“Wait—Mark has a grandma he’s really close to?” Brooke asked, leaning nearer to me with interest, “Why hasn’t he ever mentioned her?”

“Because she’s dead,” I said, “and has been for years. She was his closest family. She took Mark in after his mom ran off. His mom was a drug addict and pretty crazy. His grandma took care of him—she was the only person who really ever did.”

“Huh, aren’t we just a bunch of sad old souls,” Brooke said softly, her pink-lipped smile at once ironic and sad, “All of us had pretty shitty dads.”

I laughed.

“Yeah, well, I guess that would explain why we’re all fucked-up.”

Brooke looked at me, surprised and a bit hurt.

“I’m not fucked up—and neither is Mark, or you.”

I shrugged.

“Sorry, it was mostly a joke. Anyway, the way I see it, everyone’s fucked up in different ways. The trick is making your life work despite being fucked up; or if you’re really lucky and ingenious, because of your fucked up.”

To my surprise, Brooke broke out into a beaming big-toothed smile.

“You know, I like that. It reminds me of a quote my mom says sometimes, “No matter how much you fucked things up, Brooke, just remember, you can always un-fuck them up too.”

I laughed.

“I like that too. Kind of a nihilistic optimism.”

She smiled again. This one was so big that it spread to her black-shadowed eyes, crinkling them into little half-moons. Seeing those eyes of hers shine that way because of something I’d said, I was no longer able to hold in the words I’d been wanting to say this whole time.

“You look really beautiful right now, you know.”

“Jake,” she said softly.

“Shhh,” I said, putting my lips on hers.

“Let me do this, please. Just for a few seconds.”

The door behind us opened.

“So glad you two have been enjoying yourselves, while I’ve been trying to get some work done,” Mark said sarcastically.

His red face looked livid.

“You know what, Mark?” I shot back, “Fuck you—it isn’t what you think.”

“Then, for the gazillionth time, what is it?”

I turned to Brooke, who shook her head.

“Mark, if I could just talk to you at dinner.”

He shook his head firmly.

“I told you—I have plans, so it’s now or never.”

Brooke paused, glancing at me.

“Guess it’s never then,” Mark said, slamming the door behind him.

For the hour or so that was left, Mark avoided us. Brooke and I talked to a former patient about her impressive rhinoplasty results, then packed up to go home. Brooke paused at the door.

“So what happened today, does that mean?”

“No,” I said, “I’m sorry. I’ll really think about it, but I don’t think there’s much hope.”

Brooke blinked rapidly, her head bowing down.

“Yeah, no I totally understand, Jake. No worries if you can’t.”

And then she swept away. I peeked my head out of the door to watch her exit the clinic. I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle sharing her, and yet, if the alternative was not having her at all, I didn’t know what I’d do.

 

 

That night, I stayed late at the clinic. I was surprised to hear crying, as I made my way to the waiting room to leave. There, head flopped on her desk, and sobbing away, was Deidre.

“Um, Deidre?” I said tentatively.

“Dr. Teller, Mark!” she said, her head bobbing up as fast as a jack-in-the-box.

She wiped at her eyes.

“Sorry, I was just,” she sniffed, “feeling frustrated with online dating.”

I gave her a sympathetic smile.

“No worries. The dating world can be a pretty vicious place.”

She gave me a dubious look, as if she was unsure whether she could buy the notion that a successful surgeon could actually have romantic problems.

“I often check my profile, the last thing after work,” she confessed, “Once I’m done with everything for the day, of course. Only this time, well, there was a whole bunch of creeps. Saying horrible things, like what time should they come over, like they’d like to see me without my glasses and clothes, nasty stuff like that. And that’s actually totally normal.” She rubbed at her eyes under her glasses again, as she gave a hiccupped laugh. “Only this time, the guy I really liked, who I’d been talking with for weeks—he just disappeared. He deleted his profile—no explanation. I mean, we hadn’t even met for a date yet, but we were going to, we were making plans to.”

Deidre paused, as if reconsidering her entire outburst.

“I’m sorry, this all must sound ridiculous to you.”

“No, not at all,” I said, “I’ve had people disappear on me too—and it’s the worst thing in the world. Especially when they don’t give you an explanation so you can try to understand it.”

Again, Deidre shot me a dubious look, but continued on, “Anyway, I guess I was upset because there’s lots of people out there sure, plenty of fish in the sea. But this fish,” stabbing a sparkly thumbnail at herself, “doesn’t really get along with 99% of those fish. And when she does finally meet one she does get on with—well, then she really wants it to work out.”

And then, with no more warning than a loud sniffle, Deidre had her head on the desk again, sobbing her heart out. I tentatively walked over and patted her shoulder.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Deidre. I understand completely. Do you want me to leave you be now for tonight?”

Her polka-dot shirted back shuddering with sobs, I could just make out her, “Y-yes.”

So, out the door I went, secretly relieved to be away from such a scene. It made me uncomfortable seeing people cry—I never knew what I was supposed to do.

As the elevator beeped its way down, I couldn’t help but mull over her words. Really, that was the eternal struggle, wasn’t it? Finding someone we actually got along with—and then, once we’d finally found them, getting it to work out. That’s what I’d done, after years of loneliness and bitterness, I’d finally found Brooke. Now that I had found her, what good did it do me? What good did it do me even if she felt the same, when she wanted to be with another man too, my best friend, no less?

And yet, as I walked out of the building into the foggy air outside, the alternative seemed even more unbearable. Maybe I couldn’t live with Brooke being with another man, but I definitely couldn’t live without her at all.