Catch Me

by Claire Contreras

  “I know,” I respond, trying to sound sure of it.

  “I’m serious, Brooklyn. I’ll never disappoint you.”

  His words fill my heart up with joy, and despite the fact that I’m a pro at dealing with loved ones disappointing me, I really hope Nick is right and I never feel that from him. His thumb grazes my lips and the side of my face before he drops his hand and continues driving.

  “This is different than the last time you were here,” he says after minutes of silence.

  The last time I was here was when I left him for LA so I could deal with the lawsuit issue. I left with a broken heart; we both did, so I have to agree that it’s very different. This time I know neither one of us will leave this or any city heartbroken.

  “Very,” I say with a relieved sigh.

  This place will always hold dark memories for me, but Nick somehow manages to brighten them for me.

  As soon as we pull up at his parents’ house and step out of the car, we’re greeted by an enthusiastic Mima. Her chubby arms wrap around Nick’s waist as he hugs and picks her up slightly, making her squeal in contentment. When they’re finished greeting each other, she moves over to me and hugs me tightly before kissing my cheek.

  “I knew you’d be back,” she says in a thick Spanish accent.

  I laugh. “It was the rice and beans,” I tell her jokingly, which makes her throw her head back in laughter.

  “Wait until you try my Congrí,” she states proudly.

  Nick makes a sound that can only be described as blissful when he hears that, and it makes me smile wide. I make a mental note to ask Mima how to make that so that one day I can surprise him with it.

  When we walk into the formal living room, I spot Mirielle, Michael, and my parents all talking animatedly. It’s funny to see my mother beside Nick’s. They don’t really look that different in the way they’re dressed, wearing linen pants and nice shirts, but their facial expressions as they greet us are night and day. Mirielle’s smile is bright and contagious. She’s genuinely happy to see me here with her son. My mother’s, on the other hand, is fake. I wish I had the guts to point that out in front of people, but she’s my mother and I would never do that. We say hello to them and my father stays hugging me to his side as we walk over to the dining room.

  “I think you did the right thing with Allie,” my father comments quietly as we reach the table.

  I smile my appreciation and he nods back, giving me a kiss on the forehead as he takes his place next to the Ice Queen.

  Throughout the meal, we all speak about different things, my dad questions Nick about producing and how he feels about the turnout of Shea’s album, which Nick insists is a Grammy winner.

  Michael visibly rolls his eyes at the statement and says, “We’ll see. Nicky may never catch up to me.”

  “Or he’ll surpass you,” I say with a shrug as I take a sip of my wine.

  I can handle being bashed because that’s all I know from my parents, but Nick doesn’t deserve it. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I don’t either. Nick is really helping me see that I am a great person and deserve as much as everybody else that works their butt off.

  I can see the smile on Nick’s face from the corner of my eye, but my eyes are on his father’s shocked face. Michael raises an eyebrow at my retort.

  “Maybe he will.” His eyes stay on me as he speaks. “So, Chris, what are you going to do if Brooklyn leaves Harmon to go help Nicky with his label?”

  Nick’s hands grip his utensils tightly and his chewing slows down. I can tell he’s uncomfortable with the question, and I’m not sure why, but I’m not. Nick and I have spoken about it but not in any serious way. He asks me all the time to quit my job and go work for him so that we can be together all the time, but I laugh it off. I don’t doubt that he would want me to work with him, but he’s cautious in the way he says it, probably because of what just happened to me with Allie. Or maybe because he’s scared that if he pushes me too quickly, I would bolt.

  My dad lifts an eyebrow, but smiles as he looks at me. He opens his mouth to say something, but my mother cuts him off.

  “Why would she do that? She’s successful at Harmon, it has her last name and she has her own company. If she wanted she could start her own label—she wouldn’t have to partner with Nick or anybody else,” she says, her voice determined.

  She’s looking directly into her wine glass as she speaks and takes a gulp of it when she’s finished. I’m stunned that she stood up for me and complimented me all in one sentence. A part of me wonders how painful it must have been for her to throw me a bone, but mostly I’m just shocked that she said anything positive about me at all, even if it was to one-up our hosts.

  “You’re completely right,” Mirielle chimes in. “Brooklyn is a very talented woman in her own right.”

  “I never said she wasn’t,” Michael argues. “It was just a question.”

  My dad puts his hand over my mother’s on the table and smiles at me. “I agree with Roxy. Brooklyn doesn’t have to do that, but if she decided she wanted to, I would wish her nothing but the best. Nick’s a smart kid and he has that drive … reminds me of myself at his age.”

  The compliment doesn’t sit well in my stomach. I love my father, but I don’t want to marry my father. Not that I’m going to marry Nick, but I know I want him in my life for the long run, that’s not a question. So I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a workaholic that ignores his children and just throws money their way, thinking it’ll make all their problems disappear.

  “Nonsense, Chris, you were much cockier than Nick,” my mother adds, winking at me.

  Winking at me. And then she smiles, a genuine smile, the one she uses on my father and brother at times. For a moment I swear I’m seeing things, but when I blink, it’s still on her face and I see a glint of pride in her eyes. The sixteen-year-old me wants to shed tears of happiness at the moment. My twenty-five-year-old self takes it for what it is and is glad she’s somewhat proud of me today. I’m sure tomorrow she’ll find something new to bitch about. But for today, I’ll take the pride and the smile. I smile back, just as genuinely.

  The rest of the visit goes as well as it can. Michael tones down his condescending-ness a notch and talks about how proud he is of Nick, despite “being a hard ass to him.” Nick and I step outside and share a swinging wooden bench that lets us enjoy the cool breeze as we look at the foggy bay. Placing my head on Nick’s chest, I take a thankful, cleansing breath, closing my eyes and letting myself enjoy the moment.

  “What’s up, guys?” Isaac’s voice booms.

  I open my eyes and smile at him. “Hey, Isaac.”

  “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming,” Nick says. “Good thing we didn’t leave right after dinner.”

  “Well, if you would check your phone you would see I texted you back,” Isaac counters.

  “Well, as you can see, I’m kind of enjoying my life right now. I don’t have time for cellphones,” Nick responds back, making me shake my head with a smile. “Is Damien in town?” he asks. Damien hasn’t been around today, but I know he lives in LA. Nick’s question makes me wonder how often they come visit their parents.

  Isaac shrugs. “Doubt it. He’s working on a movie. You know how he gets when he works.”

  Nick nods. “Yeah, he doesn’t know how to take a break.”

  Isaac scoffs. “Unless it’s for a woman.”

  Nick laughs in agreement.

  “You guys gonna be in town for a while?” Isaac asks as he takes a seat on one of the big rocks in front of us.

  “Nah, Brooklyn has to leave soon, so I’m going with her,” Nick says.

  “You doing good?” Isaac asks, his blue eyes looking directly into mine, searching.

  “Better than good,” I respond with a smile.

  Isaac smiles and runs his fingers through his long black hair, throwing it back out of his eyes. “Good,” he says, nodding slowly and looking around before bringing his attention back to u
s. “So … you guys wanna go to a comic book convention while you’re here? I have tickets …”

  Nick and I both laugh at Isaac’s awkwardness and turn down his offer, though we do humor him in discussing some super heroes, or rather letting him discuss the super heroes.

  By the time Nick and I leave, we’re ready for a nap, so we head back to his place and take one: Nick, Scooby, and me.

  “What will you do with Scoobs if you move to New York?” I ask, testing the waters on that subject.

  Nick smiles, leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. “When I move to New York,” he corrects. “I guess I’ll take him. Unless Isaac wants to keep him for a while; Damien is way too busy for a dog.”

  I nod against him, adjusting myself closer into the side of his body, letting out a sigh of content at the feel of his warmth against me.

  “Mmm … I never want to let you out of my arms,” he murmurs against me, breathing me in.

  “Then don’t,” I reply, and I mean it.

  I’m rushing, bouncing down the hall on one foot, trying to walk and put my other heel on at the same time as I try to hurry in Nick’s Manhattan apartment, which I’m now sharing with him.

  “Babe, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Nick says, tearing off his headphones and looking at me over his cup of coffee.

  “Jay’s manager is calling me in twenty minutes and I want to be sitting at my desk when he does,” I say, leaning on the kitchen counter and finally putting the shoe on correctly.

  Nick puts his cup down and cocks his head to one side as he watches me, his eyes scanning my body slowly. “Is that a new dress?” he asks.

  I frown, looking down at my fitted plum dress. “No.”

  “Why haven’t you worn it before?” he asks, rounding the counter to stand in front of me.

  I make to move past him so that I can pour my coffee, but he blocks me and runs the tips of his fingers along my cleavage, causing me to shiver.

  “Nick,” I protest, but there’s a moan in my voice as I speak his name.

  “Brooklyn,” he mimics in a breath, his voice caressing my name as he whispers soft kisses from my neck to my collarbone.

  I throw my head back, my breathing coming in ragged. “I have to go.”

  “Hmm,” he murmurs against me as he continues to place openmouthed kisses over my chest and the small hills of my cleavage.

  My phone rings suddenly, making us both groan in protest, but Nick straightens and walks over to the living room, his bare feet padding on the hardwood. He plops down on the couch as I answer the phone, thankful that it’s only Hendrix.

  “Hey, I’m going over there now,” I say, before he can bitch me out and walk to the living room, picking up my cup of coffee on the way over.

  “Brooklyn,” Hendrix says, his voice eerily quiet, the sound of it making an uneasy rattle shake over me.

  “Wha-” I start, but the gossip channel on the television stops me short.

  Breaking News: Shea Roberts’ body found unresponsive due to apparent overdose.

  I stare at the television in disbelief. My brother’s frantic voice is in my ear, but I can’t understand him. I register Nick’s body moving from the couch. I hear him scream in horror, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the TV. The words are screaming at me, bleeding through the screen for me. Flashbacks of Ryan sitting up on the bed with the needle sticking out of his arm circulate my memory. The grayness of his lifeless body, the distant look in his eyes, his cold, cold skin. Empty sobs threaten as I open my mouth, gasping as my hands begin to shake uncontrollably before they go numb and I drop the phone and coffee mug. I watch it fall, shattering and splotching coffee everywhere. It all happens in slow motion. I see it but I’m not there to take it all in.

  “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, nooooo!” I finally manage in an animalistic voice that isn’t mine. “Please no!” I gasp out, painfully pulling on my hair as my chest heaves and I shiver uncontrollably. Nick’s arms wrap around me, clutching me so tight that I can barely breathe.

  “No!” I shout again, pleading with him, with anybody, needing somebody to assure me that this isn’t real. Refusing to believe that Shea … refusing to accept what the reports are saying because they’re not true. They can’t be.

  “Baby,” Nick says, squeezing me harder, his own voice hoarse and laced in pain. “Let’s find out what’s going on, let me call Darius, come with me so we can call Darius.” He’s pleading, his own body beginning to shake slightly, and I know he’s trying to keep it together maybe for me, maybe for himself, but that ounce of hurt, of disbelief in his voice is my downfall. His obvious pain is what makes mine pour out of me, raking out of me in gasping, panting sobs.

  Nick takes out his cellphone with one shaky hand as the other continues to hold my body against his, and dials Darius’s number. It rings. Rings. Rings. Rings and Nick shouts a string of curses when it goes to voicemail. My mind drifts to Ryan again, to his lifeless body, and I picture Shea. I picture myself walking into Shea’s room and finding him sitting up the way I found Ryan, with a needle sticking out of his arm, mute to my questions and my pleading. Somehow, even with Nick’s grip on me, my shaking body manages to slip out of his hold and down to the floor.

  Nick holds my arm to stand me up, but I jerk away from his touch and crawl to the barstool where my purse is, pulling on the strap so that all its contents spill all over the floor. I pick up my phone, the screen blurry through my eyes, and see the missed calls I have from Shea’s phone. I look at my two new voice messages, also from Shea, the time stamp on them tell me they’re from last night.

  “Brooklyn,” Nick says, crouching down beside me.

  I can’t bring myself to look at him as I press the playback button and hold my trembling hand to my ear.

  “Hey, Bee, it’s me, come out with me today,” Shea’s voice says into my ear, his deep velvety voice.

  My eyes are fresh with new tears when I bring myself to look at Nick’s ashen face. “Is it?” he asks brokenly, unable to form the question.

  I nod and continue playing the messages as my chest painfully constricts within me.

  “I miss you, Bee. Come out with me. It’s lonely for a playa out here,” Shea says, sounding drowsy. “Bring Shadow, I miss my brother.”

  My mouth falls open as tears cascade down my cheeks as I hear Shea’s pleads and watch the pain stab Nick’s eyes as he listens on.

  “He called,” I whisper. “And I wasn’t there for him.” I failed him, I want to say. I failed another friend, I want to scream, but don’t. Nick opens his mouth, his eyes filling with tears as he leans forward and pulls my head onto his shoulder, both of us shaking, holding onto each other, as we commiserate over our heartache.

  Nick’s phone rings between us and we both pull away quickly, desperate for an answer. “Darius,” Nick says in greeting, swiping the escaped tears under his lids with his thumb. “We just heard,” he says, his blue eyes never wavering from mine as he speaks. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I squeeze back, holding my breath.

  “She’s here,” Nick says, his thumb rubbing over my gripped hand. Nick’s eyes widen. “We’re heading over now,” he says, hanging up the phone and taking off my heels as he stands us up. “Shea’s in Lenox Hill,” he says, cupping my face tightly so that I look at him.

  “I can’t,” I say, my voice breaking. “I can’t see him like that,” I finish in a hoarse whisper. “I can’t see him dead.” I shake my head in refusal. I can’t see the only friend I have left. I can’t bear to acknowledge that I’m the only person in our trio that’s left. I can’t bring myself to accept that Shea won’t call me to bother me about a new musician he found or about a song he wrote. I can’t.

  “Baby, listen to me,” Nick says, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill out of his own eyes. “Shea is in a coma, which is better than what we thought and he’s at Lenox, you have to see him. When you were in rehab, who went to see you?”

  I shake my head slowly, clam
ping my mouth closed as tears fall down my cheeks again. “Mmmmm,” I voice, still shaking my head.

  “You’re my best friend, Shea. You can’t get rid of me. Haven’t you learned that by now?” I ask quietly.

  His eyes glisten. “You’re more than my best friend, Brooklyn,” he whispers. “You’re family,” Shea continues …

  “I can’t, Nick!” I shout as he holds me in a tight hug. “I can’t do it. I can’t do it!” I squirm to get out of his hold.

  “Brooklyn, listen to me,” Nick demands in a whisper against my hair. “We’re going to go because if we don’t and something bad happens, we’re going to regret it for the rest of our lives,” he says, letting go of me and holding me at arms’ length. “Do you want to live your life with regrets?” he asks, swallowing.

  “I already do,” I respond. “I already fucking do!” I shout in a sob.

  I’ve come to accept that Ryan’s death happened and there’s nothing I can do about it, you can either break or move on from something so impactful. I chose to rise. I chose to move on even though it haunts me, but moving on doesn’t mean letting go and it doesn’t mean living life with no regrets. I’ll regret not getting back earlier, not looking into his room sooner, not sleeping beside him, not talking him out of drugs that night. That burden is mine to live with, mine to carry, and even though it’s become lighter over the years, it’s still there. It always will be.

  “Ryan wasn’t your fault!” Nick shouts back. “It wasn’t your fault!” he repeats, holding me close again. “Stop blaming yourself, Brooklyn.”

  “Shea called last night,” I whisper. “He fucking called me and I was too busy to acknowledge his goddamn phone call, Nick,” I cry.

  He inhales deeply, his breath tickling my ear when he lets it out. “Baby, your friend is in the hospital. My friend is in the hospital. He needs us,” he says, his strong voice wavering, and I know he’s right. I know I have to go even if what we find scares me, but at least I’ll have Nick with me.