Animate Me

by Ruth Clampett

  “You know what though? I think I’m bigger. I mean I think my, well you know…” I point down at my crotch.

  “Your penis?” Dad questions matter of fact, like I’m comparing beaker tubes in a lab.

  I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure my penis is much bigger than his. Brooke only had regular sized condoms at her place which wouldn’t fit me.”

  He finally grins with this victory. “Well, you are an Evans, Son. Besides, statistics show that well-endowed men have greater success securing their desired mate. Take my word for it; that’s a definite asset.”

  Okay then. Finally, one for the home team.

  “So while we are on that subject, how about sexual prowess?” he asks.

  “Well that’s like comparing Pee Wee Herman to Warren Beatty in his day.”

  He coughs. I’m impressed that Dad can keep a straight face.

  “Sharing common interests with Brooke?”

  “I think I win there, hands down. I don’t even think Arnold likes cartoons.”

  “Okay, that’s good. And finally, some of the most significant attributes…personality? List five qualities each.”

  “Devoted, determined, awkward, inexperienced, hopeful…versus powerful, pseudo-charming, confident, persuasive…ASSHOLE.”

  He pulls the car over and takes the pad out of my hand. “Okay, let me review and summarize.” He studies the two columns, his brow furrowed in concentration. He sets the pad on the console and turns towards me.

  “You two couldn’t be more different. Brooke must be terribly confused. Here she’s with this Arnold person for how long did you say?”

  “Three years.”

  “Yes, and then you come along and seismically impact her world.” He taps the pencil down the list. “You are young, inexperienced, less successful, less attractive…”

  “Thanks Dad, I’m feeling like a million bucks right about now.”

  “Let me finish, Nathan. What I was trying to say is that despite all of these shortcomings, she’s undeniably drawn to you. There must be an extremely powerful chemistry between you.”

  I nod enthusiastically.

  “And you love her.”

  “With all my heart.”

  “Well then prove to her that you can be strong and confident too. Even the most successful women want to know that you can be their equal. You can do it, Son. Just think, you are about to make a deal with your comic book that could lead to significant life-altering success. You’re the most defiantly determined person I know. Your entire life I’ve watched you single-mindedly and tenaciously go after anything you really wanted.”

  I nod. He’s right. Once I set my mind to something I can never give up until I achieve what I want, or get what I need. And I want Brooke. I need Brooke.

  “Most importantly you need to claim her, as man has claimed his woman throughout the ages. This is not rocket science, Son; it’s human primal instinct. Make her understand that she should be with you…quite simply, she is your chosen mate. You need to be hers. We’re a highly developed society, but in the end we’re all animals. And it’s still a jungle out there.”

  I smile as I picture Brooke and I as Simba and Nala from the Lion King, running side by side along the animated savannah.

  He lifts up the pad, and waves his hand over my writing as he continues.

  “And all of the scientific data, statistical facts and empirical evidence can’t compete with the indefinable heart’s desire. For if in the end, she loves you, and she chooses you…none of the rest of this will matter.”

  He tears the sheet off the pad, wads it up and tosses it in the back seat.

  Stunned, I look in behind us and then back at my dad. I’ve never seen him discard the facts…ever. I didn’t think that man had a recklessly romantic bone in his body. Boy, was I wrong. I can’t help but grin.

  Before he moves back into traffic he gives me a firm nod. “Looks like you’ve got some serious wooing to do.”

  Happily my Mini-Cooper is waiting patiently for me when we pull into the deserted lot, the lone surviving soldier from my hellish night. I give Dad one of our awkward hugs and thank him for not just the ride, but also his advice. He looks pleased that his pep talk seems to have inspired me.

  When I get home, I fire up my computer. My task is very specific as I get on the internet, my fingers flying over the keyboard.

  Google search: definition of woo

  Results: Woo: To seek the affection of with intent to romance.

  I return to the Google page looking for another form of help. I type in How to Woo a Girl. The results flash in a mere second, and fifth item down, I find just what I’m looking for on WikiAnswers.

  How to Woo A Girl

  The list starts out rather uninspiring. I was hoping for magic potions, spells or at least instructions as to where I can buy pheromones to physically draw her to me like a huge magnet that never releases its hold.

  Show interest…look in her eyes when you speak to her…be sensitive and caring…be assertive, and lead…yeah, yeah, yeah

  I scan further down. What’s this?

  Whisper in her ear… That’s weird, but certainly easy. Do they mean all the time? That would be ridiculous. I continue on.

  Dress nicely… Shoot, not with the clothes again.

  Be nice to your young relatives in front of her… I don’t have any young relatives. Maybe I could borrow some? Shit, this stuff is complicated.

  Help others in front of her, like the poor and needy…

  Make her laugh… I’m assuming not when you’re helping the poor and needy.

  For holidays like Valentine’s Day be sweet and thoughtful instead of cliché…

  blah, blah, blah

  Don’t be overtly sexual…well, it’s too late for that one.

  Learn to dance, take ballroom dancing lessons…seriously? That has disaster written all over it.

  Be spontaneous!

  And finally, take the first step. If you’re ever going to win the prize you have to tell the prize you want it.

  Now that makes be most sense to me of all the suggestions.

  Wow. There are so many things to consider that my head’s spinning. Did Arnold do all this stuff for Brooke? I mean I really doubt that he whispered in Brooke’s ear or helped others, but I know for a fact that he’s a good dancer.

  I read the list three times, jotting down ideas on note cards. I then tape up everything on my bathroom mirror so that I can review the suggestions often. The last card I wrote I hang in the most prominent location, right at eye level:

  If you’re going to ever win the prize, you’ve got to tell the prize you want it.

  I take a deep breath and nod at my reflection. It’s time.

  While I still have the nerve, I march out to the kitchen and grab my phone, then quickly dial Brooke’s number. I’m frustrated when her phone goes directly to voicemail, but I attempt to leave a message anyway.

  Hey Brooke, it’s Nathan. I’d like to take you to dinner tonight so we can talk. How’s seven p.m.?

  I pause for a moment. Was that too pushy, or appropriately direct? Damn. I better finish this up.

  So give me a call…okay thanks…bye.

  I stare at my phone for a moment and then remember that I haven’t hung up, so I nervously hit the end button. It occurs to me that maybe I should text her too since I can control my words better, and not sound like an idiot.

  Hi Brooke, just left you a voicemail about dinner tonight. Let me know if seven is good.

  I hit send. Moments later I get a reply.

  Sorry, can’t do dinner, at Arnauld’s now.

  Damn. A wave of panic washes over me, and my woo-ing plan takes a back seat to my fear. My fingers shake as I type crazy words I shouldn’t text.

  Just needed to let you know that I’m not going to let you marry him.

  There…I said it. I feel sick and triumphant at the same time. I can’t believe I just texted that.

  Is that so?
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  Thank God she isn’t mad at me. But her calm reply just fuels my fire.

  Are you going to marry him?

  You just told me that you weren’t going to let that happen

  But would you have tried?

  I’m curious now…what would you’ve done to stop it?

  Ride up on a horse and carry you off in your wedding gown.

  Very dramatic

  I mean it. You can’t marry that ass.

  The ass is getting off the phone. Can we talk about this tomorrow?

  Tonight. I insist.

  I don’t know how long this argument will take. Tomorrow…please Nathan, I will explain everything then, I promise.

  And just like that she’s gone. I watch her words fade back into the screen, the blue background a cold infinity I can’t penetrate.

  Instinctively my fingers move over the tiny keyboard, willing the words I had wanted to tell her to materialize. Slowly, deliberately, I spell out my truth as if each letter is a sign I’m posting on the road of this twisted journey.

  i l o v e y o u b r o o k e

  I get overwhelmed as I reread my message for her. I thought we had more time than this. I’m fighting back waves of frustration to know that she’s with him even if they’re fighting. Couples fight and make up all the time, and there are still enough pieces of their puzzle I’m missing to make me uneasy. There’s a devastating fear of what may never be mine…with the absolute understanding that the only thing I really want, is the one thing I may never have. I keep typing, adding on.

  i l o v e y o u b r o o k e w i t h a l l m y h e a r t

  I study the words, rubbing my finger across the screen over and over, wishing she could understand that she’s everything to me.

  But instead of hitting send, I delete the message and close the screen. This is so much bigger than a text. I need to face her with my truth. Tomorrow will be the day.

  Animate Me / Chapter Nineteen / Stalking 101

  “Look Mack, just what’s going on around here?” ~Daffy Duckxviii

  Is five a.m. too early to call? That seems like a perfectly respectable time to call, even if it’s still dark out. I pace back and forth in my kitchen, glancing at my watch every minute or so. I picture Brooke curled up asleep like an angel, and it’s the only thing keeping me from hitting the send button on my cell phone.

  At six a.m., after choking down a Pop Tart and my second cup of coffee, my resistance finally fails. With my hands shaking I text her:

  Hi Brooke, can I take you to breakfast? I’m craving pancakes. How about you?

  Yeah, that sounds good…kind of casual…not like I’m foaming at the mouth from the idea that she may be with Arnold making wedding plans. Maybe they’re online right now setting up one of those gift registry things. Yeah, sure, at six in the morning…maybe I’m losing my mind.

  I set my phone in the middle of the kitchen table, and proceed to stare at it for fifteen minutes. There’s no response.

  By eight-fifteen I’m dressed for work but a little edgy. Yeah, just a bit. I’ve already worn a path in the rug that runs down my hallway. It occurs to me that maybe she’s lost her phone. I’ve never heard of Brooke losing anything, but it could’ve happened. It’s not impossible. Before I get in the car I call her, reminding myself that if she’s lost her phone, she won’t answer.

  “Hey Brooke, are you free for lunch? There’s this great little place in Toluca Lake I’d like to take you to. How’s noon, or even better eleven-thirty?”

  Good, that was direct. Now I better figure out a great little place. It sure as hell can’t be Taco Bell. It occurs to me that she usually doesn’t eat until one p.m. but I’ll go stark raving mad if I have to wait that long to see her.

  When I pull into the parking garage, Mojo’s car’s there, but not Brooke’s. Did she ride in with him? Or does he have her tied down, drugged up and locked in his attic so she can’t return my calls? I consider knocking on the lid of his trunk to make sure she isn’t in there. I don’t find my fears unfounded considering the last time she didn’t return a call, the monkey had kidnapped her, forced her to go to Santa Barbara, and proceeded to brainwash her.

  Upstairs, before I’ve unloaded my workbag, I pick up the office phone and dial.

  “Hi Morgan.”

  “Hey, Nathan. What’s up?”

  “Hey, thanks again for your help on Saturday. I really appreciated it.”

  “Glad to do it,” she replies. “So, are you doing okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. But I’m wondering is Brooke in yet? I wanted to ask her something.”

  “No, she’s not in yet…but it’s still a bit early for her. You want me to tell her that you called?”

  “Yes, please do…as soon as you see her.”

  At nine thirty I sneak out the front and check the parking lot again. Her car still isn’t there. Nine forty-five I text her:

  Hey Brooke, are you having car problems? Do you need a ride?

  Nothing.

  At ten twenty Morgan calls me.

  “I just heard from her. She’s not coming in.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “No, and she sounded really stressed out. Did you talk to her yesterday?”

  “No we texted, but she was busy with Arnold, so we couldn’t talk.”

  “Weird…I wonder what’s going on,” Morgan says.

  Her tone makes me even more nervous.

  I’m not sure exactly when I lose all semblance of rational thought and control, but the texts start flying fast and furious. Her phone must be on fire with all my attempts to reach her, each text about fifteen minutes apart.

  Hey Brooke, how about a late lunch? In-N-Out? I know you can’t turn that down.

  Are you feeling okay? Did Arnold feed you some bad fish or something?

  Can I bring you some chicken soup? How about some nachos?

  Have I done something wrong? Is this some kind of weird test?

  Is there a reason you’re avoiding me? Am I in the doghouse?

  I’m freaking out. Can you please text me back?

  I’m about to follow that one up with an even more desperate text when I hear someone clear their throat. I look up and see Nick watching me.

  “What’s up, dude? You’re suddenly a texting fiend. I’ve been hearing that little beep, beep, beep all morning.”

  Defeated, I lay the phone down on my drawing table and hang my head. “I’ve been trying to reach Brooke.”

  “I see. Well…has it occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t want to be reached?”

  “But I haven’t done anything to her,” I point out. “I don’t understand why she won’t talk to me.”

  “Maybe she’s avoiding everyone, not just you. That was quite a scene at the club on Saturday.”

  I just nod my head.

  “Was that for real?” Nick asks. “Is she going to marry him? I mean I just can’t see it…he seems so completely wrong for her.”

  “I haven’t been able to talk to her to find out.” I rub my hands over my face.

  “No wonder you’ve been texting so much. I’d be going nuts too.”

  “I don’t want to lose her, Nick,” The despair weighs heavy in my voice.

  He studies me for a moment, with a concerned expression. “Hey, come to lunch with me and Dani,” he says, waving his hand in a motion to follow him as he takes a step out of the cubicle. “We’ll go to Tin Horn Flats and get beers with our burgers.”

  It almost sounds good, but I shake my head. “You guys just got back together. You need to be alone, not with me tagging along.”

  “Come on, I insist,” he says, grabbing my arm. “Besides you and your antics are responsible for getting us back together.”

  I can’t hide my surprise. “She told you?”

  “Sure, we told each other everything. You know that was a really stupid idea, Nathan.”

  “Yeah? Well, it worked out for you.”

  “Yes, it did.” He smiles and steps behind me and
gently pushes me forward. “Now let’s get your shit figured out too.”

  Over my second beer, I watch Dani get a faraway look in her eyes while she drums her fingers on the weathered wood tabletop.

  “I know, I know…he has that excess hair problem right? My brother’s a genius with equipment. Why don’t we get him to jerry-rig the electrolysis machine at the place Arnauld goes to so that they fry the fucker next time he gets his fur removed!”

  I almost spit up my beer. “Ha! That’s brilliant!” But then my smile falls. “Only that won’t work because he gets the fur waxed.”

  “Waxed?” Nick asks, horrified.

  “Even better, we will give new meaning to hot wax!” Dani exclaims.

  “Isn’t her devious mind a wondrous thing,” Nick says as he gazes at her lovingly.

  Dani’s face lights up again with a new idea.

  “I know! Remember that shit he said to Brooke about her figure? Let’s hire some skinny bitch actress with ginormous silicone tits to interrupt an important board meeting and accuse Arnauld of giving her VD.”

  “Yeah! And we’ll dress her in a stripper outfit with her huge tits hanging out!” Nick chimes in.

  Dani gives him the look, the one with one eyebrow cocked. I guess girls can suggest stuff like that, but not boyfriends unless they want to get into big trouble.

  “I don’t know you two,” I respond. “That would reflect poorly on Brooke too since she’s been involved with him. So that’s not such a good idea.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Dani agrees. “Okay, give me a little time. I’ll come up with some other ideas.”

  “That’s my girl,” Nick says proudly.

  Back from our rowdy lunch, the beer buzz and lingering humor holds me over for almost an hour before the panic sets in again. Like a drug addict fresh out of rehab, I weaken and surrender to my next hit. I pull my phone out of my pocket with shaky hands.

  Three twenty-two pm:

  Hey Brooke, I just wanted you to know that I’m not going to text anymore. So you can have all the space you need today.

  Three thirty-eight:

  Unless of course you actually want some company, but are afraid to ask for it. Then I’d be happy to text you.

  Four-o-two:

  I know I said I wouldn’t text, but we’re gathering to go to Starbucks. Are you sure I can’t bring you one?”