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Thirty minutes later I’m still flip-flopping my cell phone back and forth across my desk as I draw. I still have five drawings to do before I leave and my focus is completely shot. Maybe I need to call Brooke and tell her what Arnold said. Maybe I shouldn’t. I would rather do it in person, but she’s seeing Arnold tonight…there is no time. Maybe, maybe…I agonize until I can’t take another moment, and I pick up the phone and tap on her name.
“Ha, you caught me! I’m watching more animation!” She laughs.
I smile, despite my i
“What are you watching?” I ask.
“Despicable Me. Have you seen it? It’s really good.”
“No, but I’ve been meaning to. You’ll have to loan it to me. What’s it about?”
“It’s about a really bad guy, who becomes good and does the right thing.”
I think of Arnold. If only life were more like cartoons: we could drop anvils on people’s heads, wear roller skates with rockets, and really bad guys, like Arnold, could magically become good.
“If only…” I moan.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
My fingers grip around the phone. “Arnold called me into his office.”
“Why? What did he want?”
My mind races…how do I explain how testosterone fires up a Neanderthal when another caveman wants his woman?
I decide to underplay it so she doesn’t worry, but at least knows he talked to me. I don’t want her surprised in case he brings it up at their fucking di
“I think he just wanted to know how things went at the Emmys.”
“Really?” she asks, sounding suspicious.
“I don’t think he cares for me much. He didn’t seem to like my haircut either.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” she scoffs. “He doesn’t tend to like guys that are better looking than him.”
How does she do this to me? I’m unsettled, and she still makes my spirits soar. She thinks I’m better looking than Arnold, who I know is considered very handsome.
She falls quiet again.
“What Brooke?”
“It’s just weird, why didn’t he wait to ask me? We’re having di
“Are you going to tell him about last night?” Please say no, please say no. I know if she does it’s all over.
“Well, we normally tell each other everything…no details, just the general idea. But I need to see what he’s up to first. I’m not sure what I’ll do.”
This time I get quiet.
“Nathan?”
I don’t answer, the fear choking me, taking my breath and words away.
“Nathan,” she says softly. “I know this looks bad to you, but I’m not going to let Arnauld tell me what to do. If he doesn’t like it, that’s his problem.”
“But you warned me. You told me it’s complicated.”
“Yes, I did. But if it were so easy, how worthwhile would that be? I thought about you a lot today. Do you believe in me?”
“So much, Brooke…so much.”
“Good… then I want a Buzz Lightyear drawing on my cup tomorrow. Okay?”
I smile while my heart thunders, and I imagine she can hear that too. “Okay.”
But when we say our goodbyes and I hang up, I curl over my desk as my fear flares, a burning torch on a dark desolate street. Only hours ago I finally held all my dreams in my arms…I just can’t lose her now.
Animate Me / Chapter Sixteen / Santa, the Easter Bu
“Aw, the poor puddy tat! He fall down and go… BOOM!” ~Tweety Birdxv
The thing is…she said she would call me tonight. Not tomorrow, not the night after, not sometime…but tonight. So when she doesn’t, I start to freak. I just have a bad feeling because of how my meeting went with Arnold. I knew after the amazing and intimate night Brooke and I had, that she wouldn’t just disregard me like this.
I pace through my house for over two hours, before finally forcing myself into bed at midnight with my phone on my nightstand. The ringer is turned on high so it’ll wake me up if she calls while I’m asleep. But as it turns out, the high volume isn’t necessary; I can’t sleep, and she doesn’t call.
I try to play it cool at work. Too paranoid to call upstairs looking for her, I just force myself to draw until it’s time to defiantly leave for Starbucks. To hell with Arnold, telling me I can’t bring Brooke coffee.
I know Brooke didn’t forget to call me, something happened: like every one of her phones died and she was pulled into an endless all-day meeting as soon as she arrived. I’m so worked up that my Buzz Lightyear sketch on her Starbucks’ cup is half-hearted. She deserves better, and I know it.
As I head up the elevator I wonder what I will say if Arnold sees that I have completely disregarded his “orders” to quit my coffee time with Brooke. But as it turns out, I didn’t need to consider the potential fallout. For when I approach her office my worst fears are confirmed. Her office is dark and Brooke-less. I turn to Morgan and she nods silently. She seems to know something is up in that creepy secretary way.
I hand Morgan the coffee. “Where is she?”
“Arnauld took her on a surprise trip to Bacara, that resort just outside Santa Barbara.”
“On a Tuesday?” I ask, bewildered.
“Monday night actually. Freaky huh? I knew they were having di
“So how did you find out?” I ask, gripping the edge of her desk so I don’t fall over.
“I got a weird email from her blackberry at nine p.m. last night. She said he was taking her to celebrate the Emmy win. She then gave me a list of meetings to cancel. They won’t be back in the office until Thursday.”
I look at her stu
“The other weird thing is that Arnauld gave Alana instructions to throw a big party this Saturday for the whole company to celebrate the win. You know, our first Emmy in two years.”
“Poor Alana, she’s going nuts…I mean a party for four hundred people by Saturday. I’m trying to help her. I’ve got all of these lists going.” She fans her hands over several printouts that are striped in different colors of highlighter.
She suddenly picks one up and moans. “Damn, I’m sorry Nathan. I was supposed to call you.” She points to one of the items on the list.
“What does it say?”
“Please contact Nathan right away and tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t call, but we’ll talk when I get back. Shit…she said to contact you right away. I had it in my head to tell you when you came up for Starbucks time. Sorry, I screwed up.”
I want to strangle her, but I stay as calm as possible. “Yeah, I was worried when I didn’t hear from her,” I admit. Of course, I can’t tell her that I’m far more worried now.
I should’ve never underestimated Arnold. The crafty bastard didn’t crawl to the top of his profession by being slow-witted. He obviously is not one to be outdone.
“Have you heard from her since that email?”
“No,” she says without hesitation. “But it’s a romantic getaway—I’m not expecting to.”
Damn, just kill me now and put me out of this misery. My Brooke is at a fancy resort with hairy back, being wined and dined, massaged and pampered. What does she get from me? Fumbling foot massages, paper cup drawings and In-N-Out. I don’t stand a chance and I’m starting to wonder why I ever thought I did. Before the despair fully kicks in I decide to make a quick exit. “Okay, thanks Morgan. If you hear anything else, will you let me know?”
She takes a sip of Brooke’s coffee, her fingers carelessly covering the Buzz drawing. I turn my head so I don’t have to watch.
“Sure, Nathan.”
I don’t even remember the walk back to my cube.
Once back at my animation desk I consider my options. I obsess on the idea of driving to this Bacara place. What I can’t figure out is what I would do once I get there…run into them casually at di