“Yes,” I respond. “It’s here, right?”
“I insisted,” he confirms. “You shouldn’t be subjected to going back to the Sketch Republic building after what they did to you.”
I’m sure glad to have Walter and my family on my side.
• • •
I decide to follow Mom and Dad home so I can hang out with them for a while. Mom has promised me a home cooked meal, and I could use some more time away from my empty house.
Once home, Dad insists we take a brisk walk, and I decide not to fight it. He’s probably right that I need to start working out again…something about the endorphins lowering stress levels.
As he charges forward I follow silently. He slows for a moment and turns back towards me. “Are you okay, Son?”
“Yeah, I’m encouraged about the lawsuit, but I just wish I’d hear from Brooke. I know you said to give her time, but it’s making me crazy. What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”
“Then you’ll have to put work into convincing her that she does.”
“I don’t think wooing is going to do it this time, Dad.”
“With your current relationship concerns, you are beyond basic wooing now, Nathan. Don’t get me wrong, there must be continual woo-maintenance in a relationship. But a crisis like this calls for something more substantial and dramatic…riding in on a horse, breaking down her door, climbing to the edge of a cliff to catch her before she falls…you get the idea.”
“Horses kinda freak me out but I’d ride one to Brooke if I knew where she was. No one knows.”
“But she’s going to contact her assistant. Didn’t you say so yesterday? You could leave word with her for Brooke. That would be a primary step.”
“I could try that. But you know what’s weird? I’m also mad at her. I’m angry that she’s decided on her own that she’s no good for me. What the hell? I need her right now.”
“I’m disappointed with her too, Nathan. But what this has confirmed for you is that she’s not perfect. At her core, she has insecurities she hasn’t resolved. You always gave her too much power, so now she’s surreptitiously taken on all the blame. I fear she will never get over the guilt for making you vulnerable to Arnold’s unscrupulous scheming unless she really faces her insecurities and issues and works on them.”
“Yeah, she must have been screwy in the head to fall for me in the first place.”
“Nathan,” Dad corrects me with a stern voice. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that. You know you’re a loving and devoted partner. She wouldn’t have fallen in love with you otherwise.”
“All right, sorry.” I look down and kick some leaves gathered on the sidewalk. “I guess you’re right, I am a good partner.”
“That’s more like it,” he agrees.
“You know while you are waiting for her, why don’t you write her a letter explaining how you feel. It could be cathartic. And once you’re done you can consider whether you want her assistant to give it to her or not.”
I nod my head and listen as he continues.
“I think you need to start at the beginning and explain to Brooke not just why she inspired you, but your fears all along in telling her the truth.”
His advice makes sense and I nod in agreement. It’s time to tell Brooke the whole truth. Even if it’s too late…it still must be told.
As we continue to walk, Dad changes the subject, and we talk about the cases Walter has already uncovered that support our position. Everyone seems optimistic, and it gives me hope. Walter has also contacted Sharper Edge and established a relationship with their lawyer.
Some comic book companies of late, have begun giving more rights and recognition to the artists that create their characters, while also giving them freedom to develop their own properties on the side. That bodes well for my case, considering any work I did on B-Girl was always at home and not at all related to the shows I worked on.
“Are you really hopeful, Dad, or am I just wasting money fighting this?”
“I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Nathan. This could be an ugly, extended battle in court. But we’ll support you through the case, not just emotionally but however you need us to financially, because we know it must be done.”
“But Dad, I don’t want to take your money…”
“We want to help. I think you know Mom and I have dealt with several lawsuits over the years regarding my inventions. If you don’t fight for your creations, believe me, people will walk all over you…but even worse, it will kill your creative spirit.”
I nod. Dad’s right. I doubt I’ll ever have the heart to create again if I don’t get B-Girl back and Arnold does what he wants with her.
Later at home, I check the calls I’ve missed and marvel with each new round of information from the dramatic day at Sketch Republic. Nick’s message informs me that in the afternoon all four hundred and seventeen Sketch Republic minions were marched into the auditorium to be yelled at. Despite management’s threats, no one got called out, nor did anyone step forward. The whole execution was so flawless that not a single person is identified as mastermind, instigator, accomplice, or implementer of the grandest gesture in the history of animation studios. I conclude that it’s a day that will live in infamy; a story that will be passed on from cartoonist mothers and fathers to geeky sons and daughters, for generations to come.
• • •
Despite the encouraging things that happened earlier, that night as I lie in bed, the melancholy sets back in as I recall how different my life was just a couple of weeks ago when I still worked at Sketch Republic and got to see Brooke and my friends every day. I feel so isolated now.
I also longingly remember how it felt all the times Brooke was here with me. Sometimes I would just run my hand along her sides, and over her hips, filled with disbelief that she was actually here in my arms. I coveted those moments, every one of them.
I toss and turn, dozing off and then fretfully awakening with a start, gasping the still air of my darkened room. The dreams that torment me are fragments, flickering animation frames interspersed with images of Brooke that shift from Black and white, to color and back again. After the third nightmare jars me from sleep, I give up and finally get out of bed.
I continue my sick ritual of checking my cell phone every hour for messages, and the crushing disappointment when there aren’t any. Whatever she’s going through, I just desperately wish she’d call.
After turning on the T.V., I make some coffee and fire up the remote, flipping through all the channels and trying to find the most distracting show as possible to watch. Despite the magic of satellite, there still isn’t much compelling to watch at four-thirty in the morning.
As I sprawl on the couch I look through a sketchbook that had been left on the coffee table until I find an empty page. Remembering Dad’s advice, I slip the cap off a pen and consider the blank slate. There is so much to say that I hardly know where to start.
Dear Brooke…
I sit with my pen suspended in mid-air until I finally give up and lay it down.
How do I explain that it hurts to breathe without her here? That as much as I had initially admired and desired her, I had no idea how truly spectacular she was, and is, until I held her in my arms.
As my thoughts tumble, I grab the pencil lying next to the pen, and start moving it over the page as I think of her. The lines are loose, but I keep circling back until a sketch of Brooke and I at the Hollywood Bowl comes to life. I smile at the happy memory.
I hold it out in front of me, studying the image. Inspired, I continue on, tightening the drawing and adding a few background details. When it’s to a place I’m satisfied, I write underneath:
Although I always had a dream for us…this was the night I realized a future with you was truly possible…that it was unfolding right before my eyes.
I feel a surge of emotion as I study it again and suddenly it comes to me. There’s no better way for me to show Brooke what’s in my heart.
I grab my coffee and head to my studio. The whirl of the pencil sharpener ignites me as I flip to the opening page of a new sketchbook. I write the words first.
There was once a boy, who longed to meet a special girl. He desired to find his true love, yet he couldn’t find her…
…that boy was me.
As I stroke my pencil across the page, a rendering forms of a younger me perched at my drawing table. In the sketch, my hand cups my cheek as I lean forward and daydream out the window.
I turn to the next page.
Every girl I met was too hip, or mean, or not appealing…or just not for me.
I started to wonder—would I ever find my girl?
This sketch is more animated. I look flustered in the drawing where I’m in the middle of the page with a question mark over my head, while surrounded by little caricatures of different types of girls. Judging from my expression and body language, none of the girls are to my liking.
But one day, while I sat in the audience at a big company presentation, the most beautiful girl walked across the stage.
The drawing is of a stage with Brooke approaching the podium. The audience in the foreground is dark, with simple lines indicating the people in their seats, except for one seat where there’s more detail. It’s as if a beam of light shines down on me, and from my expression as I watch her, it’s obvious I’m enraptured.
She was smart, and funny, warm and charming…and so, so beautiful.
I happily sketch a close up shot of Brooke at the podium, smiling as only Brooke can do.
And in that single moment, I fell in love…
From then on, everything was you, Brooke.
The page features a close up of me, my eyes wider than my glasses as I watch her. There is a thought bubble over my head where she is in my arms and little hearts float around us.
So every day after I would watch you from afar, trying to get the nerve to approach you. But what I saw was how other men admired you. Your charm was undeniable. What would I say if I ever got to talk to you? I couldn’t imagine you would ever want to date a guy like me.
I smile as I draw Brooke chatting on her cell phone, while standing next to a sign that states, “All Brooke Admirers Wait Here.” A collection of men in line go to the very edge of the page.
When I finally accepted that I’d never have a chance with you, I took all my passion and dreams and put my energy into creating a character in your likeness. Finally, you were part of my world…
And B-Girl was born.
B-Girl stands majestically in the middle of the page, with sparkling eyes and flowing hair, just as I’d always envisioned her.
I dedicated myself to B-Girl, making her strong, brave and beautiful…just like you, Brooke.
The rendering is of me back at my drafting table, but now enthusiastically working, a finished B-Girl comic at my side.
And then one day, when I least expected it…you walked into my world, and it was as if a door had opened…I will remember that day for the rest of my life.
Grinning in my bow-tied polo shirt with the pocket protector, I’m showing Brooke her Geek World purchase. She’s smiling at me too.
And I knew I finally had my chance. I made up my mind that I wouldn’t ever give up again until you were mine.
A fine drawing of me presenting Brooke with her first macchiato Starbucks cup drawing follows.
Page after page, my pencil follows after me as I relive our journey in a storyboard style. There are the ups and downs, the coffee break visits, the Dani farce, the hidden comic books and an annoying monkey lurking in the background. As the story progresses I increasingly add bits of color to the sketches until the drawing where Brooke hands me the note card the night we professed our love.
The memories of that life-changing moment overwhelm me. How do I make her understand that she’s made me a better man? She’s taught me how to love with my whole heart, so intensely that there’s a profound longing every time we’re apart. I can’t beg, but I don’t know how to go on without her. Nothing means as much to me without her in my life.
The final drawing of the group is of me alone in my studio holding a drawing of B-Girl and thinking of Brooke. My despair and longing is tangible in my drawn expression. As I study it I know this can’t be the last frame of our story…it just can’t.
The next time I look up, it’s noon and the studio is flooded with light. As I finish and close the sketchbook, I feel a surge of promise. Somewhere deep in my heart I know that when Brooke sees this, it will help her find her way back to me.
For the first time since my world with her fell apart…I feel hope again.
Animate Me / Chapter Twenty-Eight / Home Delivery
“Golly, I sure wish I had a girl.” ~Cecil the love-sick Sea Serpentxxvii
I’ve just brushed off the cover of my sketchbook for Brooke when my phone prompt goes off. I feel a surge of hope seeing Morgan’s name on the text line. Maybe she’s heard more from Brooke.
Hey Nathan. I’m leaving for lunch now. Are you around? Can we talk in ten minutes?
Yes! I reply.
“Shit, all hell is breaking loose,” Morgan says dramatically.
“What’s going on?” I ask. My grip on my cell phone is tight.
“Brooke’s computer is back, but they went through her office last night. They weren’t even clean about it. It was obvious as soon as I went in to leave mail on her desk. Then Arnauld was yelling at someone like a wild man this morning. I could hear it all the way down here.”
“Damn.” I take a deep breath.
“But the big news is that I finally talked to Brooke this morning.”
“She called you?” I ask as I try not focus on the fact that it’s so messed up it wasn’t me she called.
“Yes, and the first thing she did was ask about you…if I’d talked to you or heard anything about you.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“That I wish she’d call you. I hope you don’t mind, but I told her I thought you were really hurt that she hasn’t called you yet.”
My heart sinks with the truth of it. As much as I’m trying to be stay positive, the fact that she hasn’t called is eating away at me. “Yeah, I don’t mind that you said it. It’s true. What’d she say then?”
Morgan’s voice gets sad. “Well, it sounded like she was crying, and she mumbled something about needing just a little more time. I didn’t know what to say, so I quickly changed the subject. I asked her when she’s coming back to work.”
The idea of Brooke back at Sketch Republic with Arnold makes me want to double over, but I don’t let go of the phone. “Is she going back?”
“Actually, she was really surprised I asked. She thought HR would have talked to me already about another position. Evidently, Tuesday she called and told them she was taking an extended leave.”
“Really?” I ask, hopeful.
“Yes, but I’m thinking she’s just stringing them along until she has her showdown with Arnauld.”
I hope she never returns to Sketch Republic, but I can’t be sure what she really wants. It’s so frustrating not to know any of this firsthand.
“And since then I think Arnauld’s gone over the edge. Knowing his ego, he probably assumes she’s just doing this disappearing act to upset him, and that she will come to her senses sooner or later. I mean, right before I called you, I called HR and they confirmed that nothing about my position has changed. And yesterday, Alana said Arnauld had her make reservations for him and Brooke Saturday night at The Ivy. He even had her get his favorite jewelry story on the line.”
I feel sick hearing his desperate plans. He’s either deluded or fighting for his last chance with Brooke. The one thing I’m sure of is that even if she doesn’t want me anymore, there’s no way Brooke would go out to dinner with him now.
“So I’m going to meet her after work today to take her some of the industry files she asked for. Luckily those were still in her file drawer.”
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br /> “Can I come too?” I ask, knowing the answer.
“No, she told me not to tell you where we’re meeting. She’s not ready yet.”
My anger flares. “Not tell me? She doesn’t think she’s ready yet? What in the hell does that mean anyway? Well, you tell her that I’m mad at her for not talking to me. This is making me crazy.”
“Please don’t make me tell her that. She’s not well, Nathan. I know it doesn’t seem fair, but you need to give her some space just a while longer.”
“She needs space? What about what I need?”
“She has it in her head that she has to finish something before she can face you. If you ask me, she’s sounding a little crazy now, too.”
Great… just great. “Honestly, Morgan. Should I be even more worried about her than I already am?”
“No, I’m not saying that. Just please give her a little more time. She still loves you so much, I can hear it in her voice.”
Her words break down my anger just enough, and I remember the sketchbook in my studio. “Morgan, I have something I need you to give Brooke. If I bring it to you after work, before you meet her, will you do that?”
“Of course.”
Later, when Morgan opens the door to her apartment, she gives me a curious stare.
“What?”
“You just don’t look as bad as I expected. I’m surprised.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Well, considering what you’ve been through,” she tries to explain.
I wave my hand at her. “It’s okay. No worries. I took a long run this afternoon to clear my head. I also listened to stuff on my iPod. It’s helping me keep my spirits up.”
“Good for you. Take care of yourself, and don’t let this stuff get to you too much.”
“If I fall apart now, it’s just one more thing that asshole took from me. I’m not going to let that happen.”
She nods and gives me a small smile. “Well, I applaud you.” She reaches her hands out. “Is that what you want me to give Brooke?”
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