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But as soon as Brooke approaches the mike I realize why I feel this way. I am transported to the first moment I saw her, in the big auditorium at Sketch Republic. I was sitting in the back, preparing to take my usual meeting nap when Brooke stepped onto the stage and it lit up like a summer sky. It was love at first sight.
And now, despite the journey I’ve taken with Brooke, as close as we’ve become, I find myself at the back of the crowd once again. But this time, I’m not accepting the idea that I don’t matter, that I’m just an anonymous face in the crowd. So as she begins to speak, I instinctively start to push my way towards the stage.
Halfway through the crowd, I’m close enough to see her fingers graze the mike stand. Her brows knit in contemplation before her clear voice starts to echo across the floor.
“When Da
For a brief moment I glance around me and realize everyone’s quiet and watching her intently. She has charisma, and I’m not the only one under her spell.
“Animation is hard work, at times it’s grueling. There are crazy schedules, challenging budgets, cutbacks and network constraints. Sometimes things can become a grind, and it’s easy to lose track of how we fell in love with cartoons in the first place.”
I notice Brooke sca
“Recently, I’ve had the opportunity to be reminded why I fell in love with cartoons. I’ve been taught that if your mind and heart are open, true passion will inspire you to do greater things. This has been the greatest gift for me and I will carry it with me always.”
My heart’s pounding. Have I really inspired her? Have I shown her how to open her heart? I smile at her and she smiles back, her eyes sparkling under the lights.
“And so I challenge each of you to do what you can to keep your passion alive so you’ll be inspired to do your best work. Lazlo refused to give up on his dream and was working two desk jobs when I convinced the studio that Da
“So what inspires you? Do you watch old classic cartoons, go to museums, and draw stuff that has nothing to do with your job? Or maybe you read comic books and remember how the stories and characters used to make you feel.
“All that’s important, but this is what I hope inspires you most of all…Every time you lift a pencil, or move that mouse, remember those little kids in front of their TVs. watching our shows, and quoting their favorite lines over and over. When they go to bed at night they’ll be holding their stuffed Da
I hear a soft sniff and turn to see Ge
How much I love her?
She looks down, takes a deep breath, then looks up again.
“Your creativity and brilliance touches kids all over the world. Be proud of your work and never forget that you are the keepers of the magic. I’m incredibly honored to be part of your team.”
The crowd erupts in applause and cheers. I push myself forward, but then freeze as I see Arnold pull Brooke into his arms and embrace her. He’s never shown this kind of affection towards her publicly, and it’s shocking to everyone, most of all me. A silence falls over the room, and from that point on everything moves in slow motion. When they pull apart, Arnold tucks Brooke under his arm and grabs the mike. He must’ve had a few because he definitely has a buzz going.
“Do you love this girl or what?” he yells enthusiastically.
Everyone cheers as he grabs her tighter.
I want to break his hairy arms.
“‘Cause I do. What do you think? Isn’t she the best? I’d say she’s a keeper!”
Brooke rolls her eyes, but in a playful way like she’s trying to keep things light.
Arnold gears up again. “What do you think guys? Should I marry her?”
Is he fucking serious? Did he just shout that out to the entire company?
As he pulls Brooke close and kisses her again, I hear, yes! and marry her! being yelled in between hoots and whistles from the crowd. At this point I’m outside of my body and just observing the whole scene. As hard as I try, I can’t get a read on Brooke’s expression. Is it shock? She doesn’t look thrilled, but she doesn’t push him away either. Her numb look and compliance stirs up everything I fear. I may be an emotional idiot, but could Brooke’s vague statements at lunch, along with Arnold’s declaration suggest the possibility that their ship’s getting ready to sail? If so, I’ll be left behind, clinging on to a capsized lifeboat.
Arnold pulls her offstage and the music starts up again. Everything’s blurry, a swirl of colors and light. The music’s deafening when layered onto the screaming inside my head. I sway uncertainly before I feel an arm hook through mine and pull.
“Come on,” the feminine voice says with determination. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“I have to talk to Brooke,” I mumble frantically as she drags me through the crowd.
“Not now…later,” she asserts. She picks up speed so that by the time we reach the front door of the club we blast through it.
I fall forward, my hands clutching my knees as I try to suck in air. She waits patiently as I try to straighten up. “I’ve got to go back in and find her. Please, Morgan…help me find her,” I beg.
“This isn’t a good time for that, Nathan,” she insists as she squints and scans the street. “If you confront her now all hell’s going to break loose, and it will only hurt you and Brooke. I know Arnauld well enough to know when it’s time to steer clear.”
She loops her arm through mine. “Come on, you need a drink.”
Yes a drink, and then another. Everything’s suddenly in super high-definition focus, and I need it to get blurry again.
She pulls me down the street to a place ironically called The Frolic Room, a retro-cool small bar that looks like it’s been around since the fifties. When we go inside, there are only a few customers and a bartender that looks like he’s seen everything and then some. She deposits me in a booth where the upholstery crack has been sealed with duct tape. I don’t remember telling her I wanted whiskey, but somehow that ends up in front of me. I guess this is the opening scene of the B movie of my life. If only I didn’t have to star in it.
We sit silently while she stirs her olive on a miniature sword around her martini, over and over and over. Finally she lifts it out and pulls the olive off with her teeth. I silently watch her in despair, taking long sips from my drink.
“Love is a rough game,” Morgan finally says definitively.
I half expect her to snap her gum, and pull a cigarette out of the top of her stocking like they did in those forties movies.
I finish my drink with two gulps, then grab onto my hair and pull hard.
“I love Brooke,” I confess.
“No shit, Sherlock,” she replies.
“You knew?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course. It’s glaringly obvious.”
“If love really is a game, Morgan, Arnold isn’t playing fair.”
She smirks at my new name for Arnauld.
I look at the little sword now abandoned on her cocktail napkin and realize that if Arnold were an action figure, this would be the perfect size weapon to behead him with.