BROOKLYN KELLER (like the bridge):Nat please talk to me
BROOKLYN KELLER (like the bridge):I’m begging you
BROOKLYN KELLER (like the bridge):I’ll do anything
I scowled, quickly hit Delete, and shoved my phone back in my pocket. Every few hours it had been another desperate plea from him, and despite the cracking I felt in my heart, I had ignored every single one of them. The day after dinner at his house, he had called me ten times, but gave up and resorted to texting when I refused to answer. I couldn’t figure out if I was sad, frustrated, angry, or some sickening combination of the three. I rubbed at my eyes again to dissipate the stinging I felt from holding back tears.
“You should get that dress,” Nikki piped up. I looked down and realized I was still clutching the long dress tightly in my hands.
I ran my fingers over the silky fabric again. It felt new and exciting—things I was desperate to feel. “I think I will.”
>> <<
When we returned home Nikki retreated to her bedroom with several shopping bags in hand, claiming she was exhausted and needed a nap.
I sighed and felt a pang of remorse radiate through me. It was easy to let Brooklyn’s turmoil and shortcomings overshadow everything else in my life, but that didn’t mean I could let my sister’s recovery take a back seat, no matter how well it appeared she was doing. As I had recently learned, I am nowhere near as keyed in to the people in my life as I thought I was, and that stung.
I lay back on my bed and squeezed my eyes shut. An image of Brooklyn’s guilt-stricken face flashed in front of me, his cheeks blotchy and his eyes glassy, and my eyes shot back open. My phone buzzed against my stomach.
BROOKLYN KELLER (like the bridge):I’m outside. Please come talk to me. Just for five minutes
I clenched my jaw, hovering my thumb over the Delete button. Another text came through.
BROOKLYN KELLER (like the bridge):Please. I’ll stay here all day if I have to
I inhaled as much air as my lungs would allow before heaving myself out of bed and quietly making my way outside. Even after everything, there was something in me that wanted to keep giving him chances. I wanted to keep believing in something, even if it wasn’t necessarily him. Maybe just something tangible.
Brooklyn leaned against the door of his car with a bundle of flowers under his arm, larger and more impressive than the previous ones he had given me, and his tired eyes lit up as I approached him. His hair was unkempt and it was obvious he hadn’t shaved in a few days. I fought the urge to fling myself at him, to wrap my arms around his broad figure and nuzzle myself into his chest, feeling his warmth surge through me. Instead I crossed my arms tightly over my torso and gave him a stony glare.
“You have five minutes,” I told him.
Brooklyn gave me a quick nod and handed me the bouquet of flowers. “They don’t suck as much as the last ones.”
I took the bundle gingerly in my hand and ran my fingers over the colorful array of roses. I looked up at him, and he gave me a weak smile, letting a small dimple pop up in the corner of his cheek. If he was trying to completely unravel me, it was working.
“Look, Natalie.” Brooklyn rubbed at his neck, and I cringed hearing him say my full name. I had gotten so used to hearing him sayNatthatNataliesounded foreign and far away, almost like it didn’t even belong to me.
“I cannot thank you enough for how supportive you’ve been these last few months. You make me want to do the right thing. You’re good, way too good for me, and I know it. But Iamtrying, and I don’t know what else I can do to get you to believe that.” He paused and sucked in a shaky breath. “I need someone on my side.”
I clutched the stems of the flowers tightly in my hands until my knuckles turned white. “Brooklyn, Iamon your side. But what am I supposed to think when I find bags of drugs in your room not even two weeks after you relapsed and promised me it wouldn’t happen again?”
“You’re supposed to trust that I kept my promise!” Brooklyn’s voice cracked. “Nat, I swear I have no idea where those pills came from. I didn’t even know that box was still under my bed. I’m trying to move on from all this, but I can’t do that if you’re going to assume I’m lying all the time.”
The backs of my eyes prickled with unshed tears. My chest burned, and I felt like someone was trying to rip me in half right down the middle; one half ruled by my heart and soul, and the other half ruled by logical judgment. My head spun. “Brooklyn, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t, either, and I’m sorry for even letting it get to this point.”
Brooklyn reached down and wiped away a tear that had fallen down my cheek with his thumb. “Please don’t cry. Not for me. Whatever I have to do to not ruin this, I’ll do it. You mean so much to me.”
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat from holding back tears. The honesty in his voice was jarring and raw, and the side of me ruled by my aching heart took over. I nodded and gave in, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. I felt his arms around me, protecting me from all the bad. But I knew I could protect him too. At this point, I had to.
“Now what?” I asked as I pulled away and wiped my eyes with my hand.
“Now”—Brooklyn produced an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to me—“say you’ll be my date to this.”
“You’re not asking me to prom, are you?” I shot him a deadpan look.
“Open it,” he said with a slight chuckle.
