“Yes, that’s what you said before. So, that must be rewarding.” And just like any good frat boy, he begins his biography. I let my attention wander to the dance floor for something interesting, then order another drink while he goes on and on. Finally after a three more hours of listening to him and shooting pleading stares at Alex, she comes to my rescue.
When I tell her how painful it was to set with the idiot, because he couldn’t have stood up long enough to make it to the dance floor, she doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “You know, you could have saved me three hours ago.”
“But what would have been the fun in that?”
“I fail to see where any of that torture was fun.” She burst out laughing, and I’m seriously hoping she pees her pants. “What’s so funny?”
“It was watching you listen to him and try so hard to be nice. You had this horrible little smile on your face as if you were planning his death if he didn’t shut up.”
“I was several times. But that’s no reason to make me suffer through that.”
“Brooke, don’t you get it. I just wanted you to get out. Stop thinking about your job and your families and all the bullshit you put up with throughout the week. You used to laugh at assholes like that and find somehow to shake them off, kind of like you should have shaken off Billy. Before you met him, you were spontaneous and fun and full of life. Now it’s mostly all gone, and I miss it. I thought once you got rid of him I would get the old you back. I was hoping that idiot tonight would shake something loose in you so you would loosen up and let the joy in life back in. Evidently it didn’t work, so I’m sorry. Next time, no guys. I swear it’ll just be girl’s night, well unless someone interesting comes along. I just promise not to force it. Deal?”
“Fine. Deal. Now let’s go to bed. My brain is exhausted.”
The rest of our weekend passes with grocery shopping and laundry. I’m kind of realizing what Alex has been talking about. I seriously have no life. I’ve checked my phone it seems like a million times; I guess I’m hoping I get a text from Dylan or even Cassie. Other than a few sporadic texts with Cassie telling me something random, but exciting, about her new boyfriend, there’s been radio silence. And I find my feelings closing in on despair. I miss him. I miss all of them. Maybe I did cross the line with the entire family. Do social workers miss their clients?
It’s unfortunate I don’t have the courage to ask Cassie about her brother when I do answer her texts or calls, but I’m scared of what she might say. I find myself wondering way too much about what he’s doing at any given minute. But part of me doesn’t want to know the answers to these thoughts because I want to avoid feeling the way I did last Friday night at the sight of the hickeys he had received when he was ‘hanging out with Jax.’ Yeah, I still feel the hurt and bitterness.
On Sunday, I finally get what I’ve so impatiently been waiting for, a simple text:
Dylan: Have a good week, Brooke.
I try so hard to see past the tears as I reply:
Me: Thank you, Dylan. You too.
Monday is finally here with another wonderful day at the office. It’s a slow beginning to the week. All the usual suspects show wanting food stamps or housing assistance, and it’s mind numbing. I’m beginning to learn that social work isn’t always in your face exciting. Sure, what I do is rewarding, and I love my job, but sometimes the difference you’re making is too subtle to notice.
At home that evening, I make more of an effort to keep the mood light with Alex. She’s right, I need to find my way back to the Brooke I was, the one I was when life was waiting for me to embrace it instead of letting it embrace me. So we rented crazy, funny movies settled in with our cheap wine and laughed our way to bed.
Now it’s Tuesday. I can’t explain what’s going through me today. If it’s possible to have every feeling and raw emotions take up residence in you at the same time, this is how I feel. I want to turn back time, while I simultaneously want to speed of the clock. Other than a brief chat with Paige, I’ve pretty much kept to myself, trying to find my way to calm.
As I’m heading out for week number two of avoiding the Monroes, Paige approaches, “Brooke, how are things going?”
“Okay.”
She smiles, “You are full of shit.”
“Okay, not great, but it’s the job right?”
She nods, “Yep. You know, if something ever is bothering you then you can come to me. I know you’ve been thrown into the deep end, but we have plenty of life preservers.” Oh, shit. I have to laugh at that. I don’t mean to be rude, but seriously. “Yeah, that kind of sounded stupid.”
“No, no. I swear I didn’t mean to laugh. But thanks, I needed that.”
“Anytime. So, I guess you’re heading for your home visit. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Paige.”
When I arrive at Dylan’s I get no greeting. It’s another direct hit to my heart that no one even meets me at the door. Luke answers when I ring the bell and just tells me to follow him, then leads me to the dining room where once again everybody is in their seats. Dylan’s flipping through a racing magazine and doesn’t acknowledge me. Why does his indifference hurt? And not just from him, but from them all. It was never this bad when we met the first time.
“Hey, guys.” I remain standing in the door, not sure anymore if I should even sit down. I’m a stranger in this house that I’ve cooked meals in, helped with homework in, laughed in; and now I’m not even getting a ‘Hello, Brooke.”
“Are you gonna sit down?” He doesn’t look up from his damn magazine.
“Oh, yeah. Look, I won’t take up much of your time. In fact, if you don’t have anything urgent, I can let you guys get to your…..”
“What’s going on, Brooke?” I look at Michael’s sad face. “Why don’t you want to be around us anymore?”
“Michael, Of course, I want to be…..” Shit. How do I explain this without going into everything?
“I’m sorry; I’ve had a lot going on lately. I promise things will get back to normal with all of you.” I need to find a way to make peace and find a balance between being a professional and not being a cold bitch. These kids still need me; I still need them all to trust me and open up to me.
My apology, however brief, seemed to semi work, for the next hour we discuss what’s been happening. It appears Cassie has fallen under the Brent spell, and Dylan hates it. Luke runs down to his room to show me designs and colors to have his car painted, of course by Dylan’s shop. Michael’s been asked to be in the spelling bee at school and shows me a list of words which most of them I had never heard before. At some point during the visit, Gabby has sidled up to me and is standing with her head lying on my arm. I don’t dare mention it. I kiss the top of her head and just revel in it.
Finally, I get up to leave, and Luke walks with me to the door. And just like that the hurt I thought was healing in this last hour is settling back in, though really it shouldn’t. I can’t have things both ways, and I know this. I can’t have him want me, and there be no hope of anything being able to happen. I can’t want him back only to deny us both. I can’t keep wishing for something that can never be.
Chapter 11
Dylan
“Dylan, man, what’s it going to take to get you to come out with us? The guys keep asking; you keep promising, but you never follow the fuck through.”
I let out a frustrated sigh hoping he’ll get the hint. Obviously, this motherfucker isn’t about to give up until I give him something. The fact is I’m running out of excuses why I can’t go because I won’t tell him the truth; I don’t want to go. “Jax, if I promise to find time to drink with you guys soon, would you please get the hell out of my office. I’ve got to meet a guy to take a look at his car for estimates, and I’m trying to get as much research out of the way as I can. So, okay, I’ll go out with you soon.”
“Okay, asshole, it’s pretty fucking obvious you need a night out. What the hell is wrong with you? Th
ese last few weeks you’ve been all fucked up.” He eyes me while I try to formulate an excuse for my general pissed-off-ness. “Goddammit, man. Is this about the social worker?”
“No. That went nowhere for obvious reasons. It’s about my life now, Jackson. My career, my family, my responsibilities. I have no idea what the fuck downtime is anymore.”
Gabby’s therapy sessions have been moved to twice a week now since her psychologist feels that we’re so close to a breakthrough. I’m happy she’s been making such tremendous progress, and I don’t mind doing whatever it takes to get her back to being a happy little girl.
It’s everything else in my life that’s gone fucking haywire. Luke has reverted to his dickhead attitude towards life, and I’m back to wanting to kick his disrespectful ass. He’s been MVP in the last three football games, and obviously, his shit doesn’t stink. Curfew means nothing, or he can’t tell time, but the little fuck refuses to be home when I tell him.
Luckily I have one sibling who doesn’t want to kill me, and that’s Michael. Unfortunately, he can’t keep everyone else in my life from doing me in. Jax tries, and he’s good at helping out, but he’s made friends who have a lot less going on than I have, like four kids at home. Now he’s hanging out at clubs more than he’s hanging with us anymore. Part of me envies the hell out of him. I simply don’t have the luxury of drinking my way into beds across the city anymore, and the last time ---well, you saw how that worked out for me.
My biggest headache on the home front, of course, is Cassie. I would give one million dollars of my hard earned fortune to off her damn boyfriend. Now I’m missing the days when boys were something she dreamed about. They’ve been on a few more dates, and so far he’s been respectful enough to have her in by curfew. I’m still not impressed.
She wants him to stay for dinner so I can get to know him better, but I’m not interested in that little shit, besides it’s too fucking soon the way I look at it. The one and only time I nearly lost my damn mind was when I said he could drive her home when I had to work late one evening, and they thought it would be okay to do ‘homework’ in her bedroom. You can bet your ass I’m the one driving her home now.
I had become so used to asking for advice or help from Brooke and all of this shit is starting to wear on my last fucking nerve. This white noise between us is killing me, not that I would, or even could, say or do a damn thing about it.
The first few times Jackson asked me to go out with him, and I told him ‘no,' he thought it had something to do with Brooke. It did, but I denied it, just like I did the times after, but she’s put the walls back in place, and I can’t break through them. So that has me thinking that maybe I should go out with Jax and the guys from the shop.
Refusing to answer my texts and voicemails hurt until they just pissed me off. Now I’m just frustrated as hell. I miss her. The kids miss her. Since I fucked up with the skank from the bar, Brooke has managed to keep her distance. She’s so fucking polite now when she comes over. For a moment, I felt like I had her, or almost had her, right where I wanted her. Now she’s retreated, and that’s what’s frustrating the hell out of me. She’s so close and still so far out of reach.
I still fucking want her, that hasn’t gone away. She’s on my mind most of the time; wondering what she’s doing, how she’s doing, does she miss the kids or me. But that’s all I can do is want. Being together isn’t going to happen, and eventually, I’ll have to give up the idea. It’s unfortunate that we’ve still got months to tiptoe around each other, both of us denying what we can’t do. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, I’m not alone in this. I still catch her looks, and I see how sad she is now. I had her right there ready to step forward, and then it went to hell.
I look up from the book I’ve been reading on ’67 Plymouth Roadrunners. I want to be prepared when I meet my potential client at 11. Jackson is still looking at me like he wants to say something more on the Brooke subject, and I don’t have the patience to keep the discussion going. “Are we good here?” I ask him.
He just nods, and I know he’ll drop it for now. “So what are you going out to look at?” And just like that, we’re good. Cars we can talk about all day, feelings not so much.
“A Roadrunner. The guy wants to fix it up and sell it. I think I might buy it if he does.”
“Since when do you do Plymouths?”
Since Brooke said that it was her dream car. “It’s not for me.”
He looks at me curiously. “Is it for Luke?”
“Nope, it’s just something I want to do. Now get out of here so I can finish this up.”
He gives me a curious look and heads for the door. Thank Christ, because I’m really tired of trying to pretend that Brooke is a closed subject for me. I just keep it open in my mind, no matter how pissed or frustrated thinking about her gets me.
Yesterday’s home visit still has me on the edge of mad. After she had hurried through a quick question-and-answer session with the kids, she was ready to leave, which has been the norm for the last few weeks, but what got me is the way she blew Cassie off when Cassie had asked if they could talk in her room. Of course, Brooke had ‘somewhere’ she needed to be, and I saw how it hurt Cassie. I may have been the one to fuck things up with Brooke, but she doesn’t have to take it out on the kids.
I look through a few more chapters and then grab my notepad and pen for the meeting. I have about 30 minutes to get where I need to be. I notice on my phone two missed calls from Cassie and one from her school and decide I need to check these before I head out. I shoot Cassie a text:
Me: What’s up?
Cassie: Nothing. Everything’s fine now.
Me: What happened?
Cassie: Got sick @ school. Luke brought me home.
Me: Are you alright?
Cassie: Fine, girl stuff.
Shit, I’m not discussing this with my little sister, or any woman for that matter.
Me: Enough said. See you tonight.
I leave my new the new client’s place with quite satisfied with the outcome. In the end, I convinced him just to sell me the car. But I was happy to see he had several others he’s going to have our shop fix. Being able to buy the ‘Runner from him just put money in his pocket to fix up one of the others he wants to get done.
This way I can put all the details that I want into it. And to be straight-up honest, I’m hoping that telling Brooke about it will lead us back to anyplace but where we’re at now, and I know that makes me sound like a desperate bitch, but fuck it.
On my way back to the office I decide to take a detour to check on Cassie, not that I would know what to do for her, but at least, I’ll see if she needs anything. The living room and kitchen are empty, so I head for the stairs figuring she’s resting. Reaching the bottom step, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I hear a voice, it’s deep and doesn’t sound like my sister. Somebody is going to die, right now, and his name is probably, Brent. I don’t even knock, because what the fuck is the point. I swear Drowning Pool is in concert in the background because Let the Bodies Hit the Floor is on repeat.
And there they are. That motherfucker is lying on top of my sister, under the goddamn covers, and there are a fucking lot of clothes scattered on the floor. He had better move fast, and that means faster than me. They don’t even know I’m in here. Time to engage, “Get. The fuck. Off. My sister! And then get the fuck out of my goddamn house, and while you’re moving pretend there’s a gun pointed at your fucking pathetic dick.” I look at the bedside table and notice a condom along with his keys. What’s left of my sanity is about to become a distant past, and this piece of shit isn’t moving fast enough, until Cassie screams. That lights the fire under his ass.
He makes a grab for his clothes, and I kick them away. He looks up at me, and then back to Cassie. “Don’t even fucking look at her. Grab your keys and start moving.”
“Dylan, he needs his clothes.” Cassie finally finds her words, and unfortunately, I’m not in the frame
of mind right now to give a shit what’s she saying.
“The fucker didn’t think he needed them five seconds ago, so I’m just helping him out.” I turn to where he’s still standing. “Why the fuck are you still in my house? Move! Now!” He finally grabs his keys and moves.
“Oh my God, Dylan. Please…” Cassie’s crying and begging, but it’s getting her nowhere.
I glare over at her, “I don’t want to hear a goddamn thing out of your mouth right now, Cassie, or so help me God I’m not going to be responsible.”
I turn toward the retreating figure, “As for you, don’t ever let me hear of you sniffing around her again, think of me right now as being, nice!” Then thankfully he’s gone, and not a minute too soon.
“Why did you do that,” Cassie yells at me.
“Stop right now, little girl. You don’t want to go there with me.” I yell back. Somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I know this situation skidded out of the control a long time ago, and it’s heading closer to the edge of no return the longer I stand here. I see nothing but red, and I need to do anything but stand here. “Give me your phone,” I demand.
“Why,” she sniffles but passes it to me.
I glare at her and finally ask, “Why, Cass. What possibly made you be this fucking stupid and, and….” I gesture at the bed angrily, “do this?”
She sobs out, “I don’t know, I don’t understand what I feel when I’m with him. When we start kissing I just start getting,” she breaks off and takes a deep breath, “I tried to ask Brooke last night, but she couldn’t stay. I just wanted to ask her about what’s happening to me.” She drops her head in her hands and continues crying.
And there it is, that push to the other side where I’ve lost rational thought….Brooke.
“Do not leave this house or answer the door for anyone, and I mean it Cassandra Jane. I’ll be back.” I scoop the shithead’s clothes off the floor and head out of the house after shooting a text off to Luke:
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