Pink Slips and Glass Slippers

by J. P. Hansen

  Chase snickered, amazed that Dixon could flip his mood switch so easily. The light changed, and as Chase sped away from the eaves droppers, he said, “You really are a dawg. If I hit on my staff like you, I’d be toast.”

  “If I had staff like Brooke, it’d be worth it.”

  “You have plenty of hot ones who land in your warped range in that hospital.”

  “Not like Brooke. In fact, I have to add another type just for her—she’s a must do.” Silence. Then Dixon said, “Tell me you don’t agree?”

  “Okay, you’re done. Do me and Raleigh-Durham a favor: try to keep it in your scrubs—for once!” Chase pressed the end button and flung his cell on the passenger’s seat, right where Brooke sat. He shook his head, then winced, thinking with friends like Dixie-dawg, I’m glad I don’t have a daughter.

  As upset as he became, Chase couldn’t completely lose it with Dixon. He had to admit Brooke was one special woman. But, must do? That was a new one. Though he couldn’t clear Brooke from his mind, he recognized his differences with his best friend. He didn’t need legal training to know that employees were off limits. Period.

  Why couldn’t I have met Brooke before Heather? Why does she have to work for me? And, how do I keep her away from the dawg?

  Chapter 10

  Brooke felt guilty she hadn’t visited Melissa since starting at Pharmical. As usual, work replaced her social life. But, Melissa had been busy each time Brooke tried to meet up. Her college roommate was finally tying the knot with Eddie Racer, her on again, off again, boyfriend of the past eight years. Melissa’s father, Clifton, called Eddie his “son-out-law.” Though Brooke never cared much for Eddie either, she was happy for Melissa and was flattered to be her maid of honor.

  The wedding crept up—now only a week away—and part of the reason Brooke delayed visiting Melissa had to do with her ankle. No need to limp in front of a bride-to-be who counted on me strutting down the aisle on her special day. Her friend was a nervous wreck by default. Brooke didn’t want to raise Melissa’s anxiety any more than necessary. Though hush hush, especially to Clifton, Brooke knew Melissa was three months pregnant.

  The main reason Brooke avoided Melissa was the painful memories. The wedding, the vows, the husband, the baby, Melissa had everything Brooke had lost. The memories haunted Brooke and she had to suppress her angst. Or, at least try. She had to be there for Melissa. After Brooke lost the baby at the six month mark, Melissa was the first person she saw—aside from Tanner. Melissa and Brooke grieved together as if they both suffered the same loss. Deep down, Brooke realized that the day their baby’s heart stopped, so did Tanner’s will to live.

  Already in the advanced stages of Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia (CML), the miscarriage was lightning striking in the same place twice. When she first learned of Tanner’s disease, she remembered staggering around in a daze. Beyond denial, she suffered from acute depression and refused medications that could have helped. She blamed everyone—the doctors, Tanner, and even God.

  Tanner’s death sentence appeared out of nowhere. CML mainly struck the elderly but rarely a man in his twenties. Especially not a major college athlete who could bench press twice his weight. By the time the signs appeared, which Tanner ignored—fever, loss of appetite, weight loss—it was too late. The disease had already reached the “accelerated phase.”Tanner had been dieting to shed the extra weight that followed his football career and the gold band on his finger. Figuring he was just overzealous in his endeavor to reach his high school weight, he never even visited a doctor until he had lost over eighty pounds. Always the big, strong man, leukemia was the furthest thing from his mind.

  Though CML was not curable by standard methods of chemotherapy or immunotherapy, new treatments were being tested by scientists in Canada and Mexico. These new gene-based treatments attacked the disease with advanced computer technology. Brooke offered to quit her job and find a new one in Canada; Tanner’s company allowed him to transfer from outside sales to telesales, which he could do anywhere in the world. Then Tanner’s doctor eradicated his enthusiasm, calling the treatment “unproven and unstable.”

  Despite the naysaying MDs, Tanner fought it with the same intensity he brought to an opposing running back. With a baby boy on the way—Jake Tanner Hart, Jr.—he had an even greater will to defeat cancer. Though his weight dropped, he kept his spirits above the clouds. Until the day Brooke lost the baby. Their baby.

  One month later, Brooke found Tanner dead in the garage, collapsed on the steering wheel with the motor still running. Then, she saw the note.

  My Dearest Brooke,

  I’m sorry you found me like this. I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d talk me out of it. But I can’t go on. Please understand and forgive me.

  I know I didn’t always tell you, but I love you with all my heart. Always have, always will.

  For all the things I meant to say, but was too shy or too stupid, here goes. You are everything beautiful to me…I love your smile, how your eyes light up when you look at me, how you held my hand when they told me my hip was broken, the way you kiss with your tender lips. I love how your eyes flutter when you’re nervous. Most of all, I love how you love me, even now.

  Please don’t remember me like this. Remember me as the shy boy who fell in love with you in Biology class, who couldn’t take his eyes off you, who tried to find a way to talk to you but took till the end of the year to ask you out, who didn’t know what beauty looked like before I met you. From the moment I saw you, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life with you or my life wouldn’t be worth living. Then you said yes to being my boyfriend and I knew we’d be together forever. I marveled as you grew prettier every day. The easiest thing I’ve ever done was to ask you to marry me. When you said yes, my heart filled with tremendous joy. You may think I’m leaving you too early, but I know I was the luckiest person on earth.

  I still remember how happy you made me when you said we were pregnant. I was on cloud nine. I had felt lousy all day and then you magically lifted me up with the news. You could always make me feel better and all it took was your smile. We always dreamed of having a baby together.

  I apologize that I’m so stubborn. I should have listened to you and gone to the doctor. Who knows, maybe they could’ve made it go away. It doesn’t matter now. The day they told me I was going to die, our future died too. I could see it in your eyes, and feel it in your heart. I’m sorry I let you and our son down.

  If there is a God out there or up there, I hope He’s the forgiving one we read about in church together and not the vengeful one in the Old Testament. If there really is a Hell, I’ve already been there. Whoever said God works in mysterious ways had it right.

  I’m sorry I didn’t make us rich. But as my dream shattered, God gave me you. Your love was more than any NFL money. I don’t think I’d have made it without your love. I’m not sure moving to Canada would have made a difference.

  I felt so helpless that day our baby died and you really needed me. I wanted so badly to dry your tears, but I didn’t have the strength to even hold you up. Instead, all I did was make it worse. You said you were afraid of dying during delivery, like the mother you never knew. You’d make the greatest mother and I want you to be some day. Kids are drawn to you. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t give you the room full of children who adore you and your beautiful eyes and radiant smile, in the place we dreamed of by the ocean, living a life of love.

  I guess I’m not really good at dying. I’ve shriveled up enough to know it’s my time to go. I’m heartily sorry if it hurts you, but I can’t go on like this. I don’t need some doctor lying to me about how long I have. I died the day our son died. You made me strong in so many ways. And, now I want to go out on my own terms. This has nothing to do with you or your love; it’s just my time.

  As God is my witness, I’ll find a way to help you in the afterlife like that movie Ghost. I’ll protect you and even help you meet someone who loves you, though it’s not po
ssible to find anyone who could love you more than me. I want you to have the things we dreamed about.

  Please forgive me. I’ll always love you even if I’m not by your side.

  Goodbye My Love,

  Tanner

  Brooke’s fingertip touched the smeared word on the final page where Tanner cried his last tear. Sensing his presence, she surveyed the area like a strobe light. Brooke gazed at his picture and said, “I forgive you. I’m so grateful you came into my life.” She carefully folded the letter, slid it back into the original envelope, then tucked it in her purse. Just like before. Brooke drew a deep breath, then glared at her watch. Oh shit, I’m late.

  Brooke sped away from the curb, then hit speed dial three on her cell, rather than texting while driving. Voicemail: “Hey you’ve reached Melissa’s cell. Eddie and I are probably busy with the wedding plans. Please leave us a message.” Brooke laughed, noticing her new message included Eddie and ended with us—that meant the wedding was still on.

  After the beep, “Hey Melissa, it’s your absentee friend Brooke. I’m running a little late, so what else is new? I should be there in fifteen minutes. See ya soon.” Brooke wasn’t sure if Melissa would hear the message before she arrived, but felt good she logged a message.

  Brooke’s relief lasted about one traffic light. She couldn’t erase the lingering hurt inside. Her stomach churned again and she hadn’t even eaten lunch. Brooke realized the symptoms that eluded her doctor had nothing to do with food; she yearned for the life she now feared she’d never have. All she wanted was to raise Tanner’s kids and yearned to fall in love over and over again.

  Pulling into Bistro 221, though a homemade soup sounded good, Brooke wasn’t sure if she could stomach any food. Or, if she could keep it together. She vowed to shelve her emotions and focus on calming Melissa. Living together at North Carolina, she knew Melissa’s good qualities…and her flaws. Brooke understood her better than anyone. She could make high strung Melissa laugh at will.

  Brooke shut off her car, peeked into her rearview mirror, and grimaced, “Yikes.” Stress always did a number on her. Brooke lacked the time for even a minor makeover. She opened the door and spotted Melissa’s yellow VW bug, with the Tar Heels sticker, and wondered how long she’d been there.

  Brooke yanked the oversized wooden door open and, like a coiled up rattler ready to strike, Melissa pounced on her. “Hey girl, sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?”

  “Seems like it.” Melissa pointed her eyes to the podium with the “Please wait to be seated” sign, then said, “They wouldn’t seat me until ‘everyone in my party was present.’”

  Brooke noticed the forty-something hostess glaring. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been crazy busy, but probably not like you. Let’s grab a table. I wanna get all caught up.”

  Hostess from Hell attempted to appease Melissa by blaming “restaurant policy,” but Melissa rolled her eyes. As a minor consolation, they were seated in a private booth.

  “You look fantastic! I haven’t seen you in what, over six weeks now?”

  Brooke’s head shot back like an air rifle just went off in her face, “Are you joking?”

  Melissa had always been brutally honest, especially when on edge—which was most of the time. “I don’t know how you do it. I mean, balancing being a big wig in business and still looking incredible—”

  “I think you need glasses.” They both laughed and Brooke sensed Melissa’s stress level returned to the human range.

  “So, take my mind off this wedding and tell me something fun. How was your date with Tobin?”

  Brooke’s eyes narrowed, “Um, quid pro quo…forget Tobin.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s just say, of the guys you’ve set me up with, he was a new low.”

  “I thought he was perfect for you. He’s witty and handsome, plus he makes great money. What happened?”

  “Well, you’re one-for-three: he makes good money. After he bragged about himself throughout dinner, I had to order an oxygen tank just to be able to breathe.” Melissa released a nervous giggle. Brooke said, “I don’t think I said boo—until he asked me to go back to his place.”

  “Oh my God. Seriously?”

  “Serious as a heart attack.”

  Melissa bit her lower lip, then said, “Did you?”

  A waiter appeared like a pop up window and smirked. They ushered him away with a quick order. Melissa had her usual heirloom tomato salad with fresh greens; Brooke ordered a bowl of the soup special. Even though escarole with white bean didn’t sound appealing, she always loved their soups. Plus, she knew Melissa would share her salad.

  Brooke lowered her voice, “C’mon, give me a little credit. Sex with him would’ve required headphones.”

  “He was probably just nervous. Eddie thought you’d like him. When Tobin stared at your picture, he nearly fell off his chair.”

  “I wish he had fallen. I would’ve been spared another date from hell.” Melissa laughed; Brooke nearly blurted something derogatory about her hubby-to-be, but suppressed it. Brooke continued, “Why do guys always self-destruct during dinner? And then they think I owe them nookie.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Enough about my dating dilemma. Are you ready for the big day?”

  “I’ve been ready for, like, the last eight years. I already feel like Eddie and I are married—I wish the wedding was over. Was yours this stressful?”

  Brooke felt another pang in her stomach. She remembered the glorious day each time she gazed at the picture beside her bed. Tanner made her so happy and she couldn’t have imagined a more fairytale wedding. Rather than add to her friend’s obvious anxiety, Brooke said, “Don’t worry, enjoy it ‘cuz it flies by.”

  “I’m worried my belly’s gonna pop out any day now.”

  “You look great. I can’t even tell you’re pregnant.”

  “Well, I feel pregnant. I’d like to run over the person who wrote that ‘morning sickness only occurs in a small number of women and is usually mild discomfort.’”

  Brooke laughed, “Definitely written by a man.”

  “Did you have morning sickness?” The moment Melissa asked what she considered a harmless question, Brooke’s expression soured. As pregnancy memories ran through her head, Brooke felt an incredible ache inside, worse than before—and much worse than morning sickness. Then, her eyes welled up, disabling her speech. Melissa filled in the awkward silence, saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to…sometimes, I say stupid things.”

  Stupid things actually lightened Brooke’s heavy heart. But, the unhealed pain lingered. Brooke dabbed her eyes and shifted her posture upright. As if by a divine act, the waiter who appeared at the wrong time earlier, rebounded this time, “Lunch is served, ladies.” He dropped the bowl and the plate like a lightning flash, then vanished.

  Brooke tasted her soup and her mood improved by the second spoonful. Who says soup’s not comfort food? She suppressed her gloom, and focused on Melissa, asking nice light open-ended wedding questions.

  After most of the salad and soup was consumed, and Brooke paid the check, Brooke said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it.”

  “Don’t say another word. I understand.”

  “And I didn’t mean to bite your head off about what’s his name.”

  “Brooke, don’t worry. Tobin isn’t coming to the wedding. I’m glad you are though. You’re such a great friend. Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if you met someone at the wedding? I’d better get credit.”

  “Don’t count on it. The online services set up a new website for me: un-match-able dot com.”

  “You always make me laugh.”

  Brooke felt relieved. In Melissa’s eyes—at least on the surface—Brooke rallied and accomplished what she set out to do. Her earlier outburst could have easily pulled the bride-to-be into her pity party. Brooke hoped her spirited side showed up on Melissa’s day, leaving Miss Depressive in the closet where she belonged.
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  After a hearty hug, Brooke returned to her car. She pressed speed dial one on her cell.

  Shane picked up on the third ring—a minor miracle—and said, “I’ve been thinking about you. It’s funny you called…”

  “Happy thoughts?”

  “Should they be?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  “Start with the yes.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” They both laughed. Brooke marveled at how relaxed she felt talking to her life coach—much easier than Melissa. Brooke said, “Well, I’m making progress on my work goals. I’m actually enjoying Pharmical and finally giving it a chance—”

  “That’s fantastic! Congratulations. Doesn’t that feel great?”

  “Yes, but not so fast. Don’t you wanna hear the ‘no’?”

  “If you must.”

  “I’m having a hard time with life.” Brooke’s eyes fluttered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My stomach’s aching like never before.”

  “Did you go to a new doctor?”

  “Yes. It’s the same old, same old. They can’t find anything and the medicine only upsets it more.”

  “How much of it is related to the past?” He hesitated to say Tanner this time.

  “As you know, my old roommate from college is getting married.”

  “Melissa, right?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if I told you, but she’s pregnant. I can’t help but think about Tanner and the baby.”

  “That makes perfect sense. You still have survivor’s guilt. I’m guessing it’s a combination of remorse from your mother’s death in addition to your experiences.”

  “I don’t think about my mother at all anymore and I’ve worked to forgive Tanner.”

  “You may not think you’re mourning your mother, but subconsciously, you are. As for Tanner, you’re still grieving but it’s more on the surface and easier to recognize.”

  “Now you sound like a shrink.”

  Shane chuckled. “I do have my PhD, but I’m not trying to shrink you.”