Chapter 11 #2
“You really don’t have to stay,” I told him as I leaned forward in the creaky plastic chair of the waiting room.
I’d had no time to change out of my lounge shorts and unintentionally oversized Sky Valley T-shirt, and the backs of my thighs had suctioned themselves to the sticky seat. “You’ve done more than enough.”
He reached over and put a warm, reassuring hand on my knee. “I want to.”
One simple touch was enough to make me want to give in to the unrelenting truth. Brooklyn had made it a point to wedge himself, in all his goonish ways, into the most uncomfortable spots in my life, and I was learning to accept the fact that he wanted to be there. I wanted him to be there.
Before I had a chance to respond, Mom stormed into the waiting room, rain dripping from the disheveled locks of hair that had fallen out of her once-neat bun.
She yanked me out of the chair and pulled me into a tight hug. “Are you okay?” I could have come undone in her arms (and trust me, I wanted to), but I put whatever energy I had left into keeping it together.
“I’m fine.” I nodded as I pulled away, keeping her at arm’s length. “Nikki’s a wreck, though. All they’re doing right now is vitals, but Nikki insisted on going into an exam room with them.”
Mom took a measured step back, and as she nodded contemplatively, her eyes fell on Brooklyn, who’d also stood up at some point. Sometimes it was easy to forget how big he was until he stood next to someone small, like my mom, who barely came up to his biceps.
“Hi, I’m Brooklyn,” he said as he reached out to shake her hand. “I’m sorry we’re not meeting under better circumstances.”
“My friend,” I interjected as Mom glanced over at me with curiosity. I might have neglected to tell her the details of our mad dash to the vet—namely, how we got here.
Recognition flickered in her eyes, and she gave him a polite smile as she took his hand. “Thanks for your help. I’m Natalie’s mother, Melanie. Mel is fine too.”
Thankfully there wasn’t much of an opportunity to marinate in the awkwardness as a vet tech in bright-purple scrubs came out to greet us.
I felt Brooklyn brush his hand against mine, and despite all the logic in me ringing alarm bells, my natural instincts begged me to stay put, to relish in the fleeting feeling of his skin against mine.
“Gracie’s going to be all right,” she told us, and there was an audible, collective exhale.
“She’d been prescribed Acepromazine last week.
It can be great to treat nausea and anxiety in dogs, but sometimes can have dramatic side effects with certain breeds, such as profound sedation, which is what Gracie is currently experiencing.
We’re not sure why it affects some dogs and not others, but all her other vitals are fine.
She just needs some time to come out of it. ”
“Her vet did mention that, but I figured since she’d been fine the last few days it was nothing to worry about,” Mom said.
“It’s okay.” The nurse shook her head with a kind smile. “We’ll put her on something different. It’s times like these when we really wish dogs could communicate with us, huh?”
While I was sure Gracie would sound exactly like she did in my head if she could talk, I was also pretty convinced she wouldn’t be able to keep a secret (like Lady Whistledown) and let everyone know how in distress I’d actually been over everything lately. Nobody needed to know that.
“I’m going to go see how Nikki’s doing.” Mom turned to me and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. Her eyebrows lifted as her eyes darted between Brooklyn and me, and I could only hope that only I could see her curious suspicion because I knew her well.
I heaved out a sigh after she retreated down to the exam room. “Now you really don’t need to stay.”
He snorted. “Damn, you really want me gone, huh?”
“No,” I blurted, feeling my face flush. “No, I—”
“I’m kidding.”
I let out a wry chuckle and pulled at the worn-down bottom hem of my T-shirt. As all the adrenaline began wearing off, I noticed the cold dampness weighing down my body. But he radiated warmth, and without consciously trying to, I inched closer to him just to feel it.
“You were right, you know,” I told him.
“I know.” His smirk widened, and then faltered. “About what?”
“About everything being okay.”
“Oh, well.” He gave me a one-shoulder shrug, and dug his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “No point in thinking otherwise.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
It only took him a split second to realize the gravity of his words, but thankfully he seemed too preoccupied with fumbling to redeem himself that he didn’t notice my cheeks flush.
“I wanted to say, um.” He gave me a sheepish smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re a good friend.”
That was the reality check I unfortunately needed.
Because that was exactly what we were—good friends.
And that was fine. That was how it should be.
I didn’t need to be worrying about what had happened the night before, or anything else he wasn’t willing to share. Friends didn’t try to fix each other.
I pinched my lips together and nodded. “So are you.”
“Anyway.” He took a very intentional step backward. “The state fair is next weekend. Me and my sister and our friends usually go every year, so, if you need something to do, or something. I mean, you and Nikki.”
“That sounds fun.” I offered him a smile. “As good friends, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoed. We shared a laugh, holding each other’s gaze for what felt like a bit too long for good friends. A large family came bursting in pushing a cat in a wagon, shattering whatever moment we had.
“Excuse me! My cat’s in labor!” one of the younger girls cried as they sped past us.
“I am actually gonna go now,” Brooklyn said as he turned his attention back to me. “But I’ll text you.”
He took a few steps backward to leave, stumbling over a garbage can by the front desk.
“Shit,” he hissed as he collected himself, his face flushing bright red. Endearing, as usual.
I chuckled and shook my head at him, watching him back out of the glass double doors and jog out to his Jeep, dodging puddles and raindrops with a gracefulness nobody of his size should have.
Sure we laughed, and sure it was funny for now, but I did need to remind myself of the reality of the situation, because the more I realized how much I liked being around him, the easier it was to forget that we should be just friends. Maybe in another life, we wouldn’t be.
June 7
Hey Dad,
It rained all day today, and it was one of those king tides that makes everything on the coast flood more than usual.
Gracie scared us. For a while I thought we weren’t going to bring her home from the vet.
Nikki panicked and I froze, and for a few minutes I think we both forgot how to breathe.
At some point enough sense of mine turned on to know we needed help (I know you’ve never met Gracie but she is over a hundred pounds).
So I called him, and he came without hesitation, in the pouring rain. He didn’t even ask for directions.
I don’t know why that part keeps echoing in my head. He came. Maybe because I don’t expect that from people. It’s the thing I’d DO, but not necessarily receive, mostly because I don’t want to.
When you died, people said Let us know if you need anything, but most people don’t mean that—it’s just the “right” thing to say.
So I learned to do things myself. To fix, to carry, to soothe, to fill the spaces no one else wanted to touch.
I thought that was strength. But when he showed up, I realized how unbelievably nice being taken care of was, even for only a moment.
He said it was no big deal, because that’s what friends do. I wanted to believe him, but it didn’t feel small. It felt enormous. It felt like air after holding my breath too long.
I might be confusing comfort with closeness. I keep asking myself whether I needed him there for Gracie or if I needed him there for me. I don’t want to need him—or anybody, really.
Is it wrong to let someone hold you up when you’re supposed to be the strong one? Or maybe that’s what being strong actually is, letting someone else carry the weight for a while.
You’d know the difference. I wish you could tell me.
Love, Nat