“Brooke …”
“No, Dad, don’t. I’m not selling Argo. It’s all Nate ever wanted, and I’m not selling off his dream. He wanted the business handed down through generations. There is no way I’m getting rid of it.”
Mum and Dad fidget in their chairs as they glance at each other. Mum looks away as Dad answers in a soothing voice, “Okay, Brooke, calm down. I’ll talk to Saxon today and see where he’s at. I think you need more time to make this decision.”
“No, Dad. I don’t need more time,” I argue.
He nods a solemn response, and we sit in an awkward silence, waiting for Mum to set out the food.
We all poke and prod at our food and plates, although I don’t think any one of us actually eats anything.
One thing you can rely on Mum for is distraction. She begins chatting about family, friends, the neighbourhood, and her work. Mum works part-time at the front desk at the local high school. She entertains us constantly with sordid tales of teacher hook-ups and students’ misbehaviour.
I manage some small smiles, and her eyes glow back at me. I know she is pleased with what she has seen today and will now back off for a few more days before coming back to check in.
Standing on my porch, I wave my parents off and feel lighter somehow, as if I’ve taken a step in the right direction. One step forward; one step toward my future. My future at Argo.
What’s that saying, though? One step forward, two steps back? Yeah, that’s it.
Four weeks later
Glaring at the pregnancy test sitting on the bathroom counter, I can’t believe it. Negative. How can it be negative? My period is two weeks late.
This is the sixth pregnancy test I’ve taken in the last three weeks. I was hoping for an early positive result, something to drag me out of this hole.
I’ve been walking lighter since my parents’ visit, holding out hope that there is a future for me. A future at Argo, and a future with our baby.
I’m ignoring the doctor’s opinion that my period could just be late due to stress. I feel it, feel it in the deepest part of my bones that something good is coming my way. Some positive is going to shine a light on the darkness I’ve been living in for the past six weeks.
Picking up the sixth pregnancy test, I drop it into the bin with the others and storm out of the en-suite. I need to find a new doctor.
I go on about my day the same as I did the day before and the day before that, living this endless cycle of routine and habit.
Making my morning coffee and toast, I carry it out onto the deck. Sliding down onto my favourite loveseat I stare out to the local community garden and small playground behind our house.
It’s normally not busy in this garden as it’s only accessible to the few houses which surround it, but this morning it’s full and alive with children of all different ages, running and screaming.
Sitting here, my hands wrapped around my hot cup of coffee, I close my eyes and rest my head back. The children’s laughter and playful screams ring loudly in my ears. Mixing that with the warm sun on my face confirms I am, in fact, alive.
My hand comes down to rub over my belly. Please God, please; I need this. I need a piece of him, a piece which can stay with me for the rest of my life.
The rest of my day continues as normal, getting some fresh air and exercise while I go for my daily walk, stopping past the continental deli to pick up a few bits and pieces, as I have Rachel coming over for dinner tonight.
After a load of washing, some light cleaning and putting the platters together, the doorbell chimes. I’m excited to see my best friend. I haven’t seen her for a few days and she always makes me feel so… normal.
Rachel and I couldn’t be more opposite. She is confident, outgoing, and doesn’t care what people think. She is who she is, and if someone doesn’t like it she couldn’t care less, or ‘give a fuck’, as she would put it. Only one of the many reasons I love her, and she is my best friend.
Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same and people either love her or love to hate her. Fortunately, Nate loved her. Being total opposites, I guess they didn’t clash, and Nate was never overwhelmed by her over-the-top personality.
Not like Saxon. Rachel and Saxon have never really seen eye to eye. I don’t know how to explain it except like a brother/sister or love/hate relationship.
Opening the door, I greet Rachel with a long breath and a relieved smile. She is such a comfort and just what I need today after another negative pregnancy test.
My best friend barges in like she owns the place, carrying two very heavy-looking shopping bags. She dumps them onto the kitchen counter as I lock up and follow her in. Pulling out bottle after bottle of alcohol, my eyes must widen.
Rachel shrugs her shoulders at my reaction. “What?”
“Bad day, Rach?” I snort.
“Every day is a bad day in that hell hole. I thought we could use a few drinks. Cocktails?” She holds up two of the bottles, showing them to me.
“You know I’m not drinking until I know for sure what’s going on.” I sigh, a little frustrated that I need to remind her.
“Still no flow?” I hear the disappointment in her voice. I don’t know if it’s because I still don’t know anything yet or if it’s at me for holding onto hope.
“No, I took another test this morning. Still negative.”
“Brooke, maybe the doctor is right; maybe it’s just stress. That would make total sense why your period isn’t coming. Surely if you were pregnant it would show up, especially with all the blood tests the doctor took.” Her tone is soothing.
She doesn’t feel what I feel. I know I am carrying Nate’s baby. “I’m looking for a new doctor,” I tell her as I turn my back on her, not wanting to talk about it anymore.
“I’m worried you’re getting your hopes up and it’s going to be a massive step backwards when you fall.”
“I’m fine… I’ll be fine,” I try to reassure her.
She sighs. “Come on then, let’s have a drink. Mocktails for you. Grab me the blender.”
We carry our drinks out to the balcony and recline on the loveseat. We chat about her work and what dramas she’s dealing with there. Rachel works at a medium-size law firm, and being in an industry mostly occupied by men, she always has some kind of drama. She struggles with equality and getting recognition for how hard she works, and she works hard, including lots of late nights and weekend work. Of course with her fiery personality, she has no problems taking care of herself, and I love being entertained with her stories of office antics.
“So, there is this new guy at the office, William Bradley.”
“Yeah, what’s he like?” Rachel wouldn’t normally mention a colleague unless she was about to rip him a new one.
“He’s different. Not one of the usual douchebags I have to deal with,” she says as she looks out over the park.
“What do you mean?”
“Will treats me differently. Asks my opinion and actually listens when I’m talking. He doesn’t act like I’m beneath him because I have a vagina.”
“Well, that’s good; he sounds like a nice guy. You should be treated like an equal anyway. You work harder than most those guys there.”
“Yeah, I know. He keeps asking me to dinner,” she says casually.
“Keeps asking you? Like, you keep going?”
“No, like, I keep saying no, and he keeps asking.”
I turn in my seat towards her, suddenly more interested. “Why not, Rach? You haven’t been on a proper date in years.”
“You know I have a strict No Fucking at the Office rule.”
“This is because of that dickhead, Henson, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s because of Henson. After that prick, I made a loyal commitment to keep work business only.”
Henson was a guy in Rachel’s office who she went home with after a Christmas work function a few years ago. During a work discussion in the lunchroom a week later, he decided to use it to his
advantage by casually mentioning in front of everyone how he had slept with her. I guess it was his way to lower her opinion in the discussion when she wasn’t agreeing with him. If he knew Rachel at all he wouldn’t have been so surprised by her throwback comment about his small dick and how he didn’t know how to use it before she jumped right back into the debate.
She suffered a lot after that with sexual advances from other colleagues and snide remarks in the halls. I can see why she instituted her work rule. “Yeah, I guess it is probably a good idea to keep your rule firmly in place. Don’t want another situation like that.” I shake my head in disgust just thinking about it.
“Speaking of dickheads, I don’t know who would be worse to work with: Henson or Saxon? When are you going to begin that working arrangement?”
“No way.” I laugh. “Sax would never do anything like that. He’s too arrogant and cocky to have to stoop to that level to put you in your place.”
We both crack up laughing knowing how true it is. I wouldn’t want to be going head to head in a debate with Saxon.
As we settle down and our laughter ceases, Rach just won’t let the subject go. “So, when do you think you’ll go in to the office?”
“I don’t know. I know I have to; Saxon is probably more than ready to move on to bigger and better things. I just want to see what happens with the baby first so I know where I stand and what I’m going to do. Hopefully I’ll know in a couple of weeks or so.”
“Are you sure you really don’t want to sell?”
I sigh and look at her. “You know I can’t sell it, Rach. It was Nate’s dream, and he worked for years to get it where it is. I just have to learn how I can keep it going for him without ruining everything he’s built.”
“How are you going to do that, Brooke? You have no idea about being an investment banker. Nate and Saxon didn’t just fall into that—they studied hard for years, did internships, and worked their way up the ladder. Saxon can’t sit you in front of a computer and just teach you that.”
“Well, thanks for the encouragement.” I say sarcastically before glaring at her. “I’m not an idiot; I know that. Why do you think we have employees? I’m not going to be doing that side of things. I just need to learn the business basics, all the other stuff which goes into running the business. Staff rights, expectations, tax obligations, paperwork, etcetera. For all the skill-based stuff I’ll have a second-in-charge.”
“Saxon?”
“No. I wish. It would be perfect. He can keep on running things as he always has, and I can slowly integrate myself into the business. No rush because he has control over everything, knows everything that is going on, and what needs to be done. The staff already respect him and listen to him; it would make life so much easier.”
I think about how easy it would make things for me to be able to keep the company if Saxon stayed on. However, the plan was always for Saxon to move on once Nate was established. That way Nate would be in a position to help Saxon, even allowing him to take his own clients with him. Why would he only want to receive a pay-cheque when he could have his own business and reap all the benefits and profits that go with it?
“Why don’t you ask him to stay? Offer him more money or something? Don’t forget, he built that company from the ground up, standing right next to Nate. Maybe he doesn’t want to leave?”
“I can’t do that. I’m sure he’s keen to move on now that there is nothing holding him there. I know he did Nate a massive favour by sticking by his side for all those years to help build Nate’s dream and ignoring his own, but it’s time for all of us to move forward.” I say it like I really believe it.
Rachel nods as I keep talking. “I think maybe that’s why I’ve been putting off going into the office. I know Sax will stay while he thinks I need him and am home grieving. I know once I go in the office and learn the basics he’ll be out of there, and I’ll be left holding the fort alone. I don’t want to fail Nate.”
Rachel leans over and rubs my leg. “Brooke, you could never fail Nate. In his eyes, you could do no wrong.”
My stomach drops. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” After a small pause I try to move the topic of conversation. “Did you ever hear back from that job you applied for?”
“Ummmm,” she stalls. “Not yet, but I’m sure I will soon.” She looks down at her hands, which are fiddling in her lap. It’s almost as if she’s avoiding eye contact.
We sit in awkward silence for a minute before I decide to lighten the air. “Anyway, tell me more about Will. I think you should totally accept his dinner invitation.”
“Maybe. I’ll have a think about it,” she says pensively as she stares out over the balcony and relaxes back in the seat.
The heaviness between us dissipates and a few more hours pass, along with a few more drinks, until Rachel decides to call a cab. I offer for her to stay, but she says she has an early meeting and her townhouse is fifteen minutes closer to her office.
In the morning I’ll be glad she didn’t stay, and wasn’t here to see my devastation.
I’m woken with stabbing pains in my stomach. Opening my eyes, I search the darkness for the alarm clock: 3:34 am. Rolling over onto my side, I try to gain some relief in my belly. That’s when I feel the moistness between my legs. No, please, don’t let it be.
Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I get up and go to the bathroom. Pulling my panties down I drop down onto the toilet. My heart stops and pain shoots through my chest when I see what’s there. Blood. Lots and lots of blood. Like, two weeks of overdue period blood.
I can’t believe this. I lean my elbows onto my knees and drop my head into my hands. Shattering sobs overtake my body, and I’m useless to stop them. My one last hope has been crushed. Why? Why couldn’t I just have this? It was the one little thing I wanted more than anything, besides having Nate back.
I’m not stupid. The chances of me getting pregnant were miniscule, considering I had only stopped taking my birth control pill the morning Nate and I had made the decision to start a family. What were the chances? They were slim to none. Deep down I knew this, but I had hoped for a miracle.
Despair overtakes me, rushing from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. The darkness is closing back in, and I don’t have anything left. Nothing left to fight with, and nothing left to hope for.
The pain of losing something else flows through me and becomes too much, and I have to unload it. Standing, I frantically search my en-suite, not exactly sure what I’m looking for, but I know I have to find an outlet for this pain. I don’t think twice when I spot all of my perfumes and our toiletries sitting on the countertop.
One by one I throw them against the wall. With each shatter of glass and splash of perfume I slowly feel a calm moving in. I rip the towels off the rack and throw them across the room, then reaching for anything and everything I can throw and do damage with.
Looking left to right I spot nothing, and then there it is. I pick up the ceramic toilet brush holder and lean back to get as much power as possible behind my throw. I swing around and hurl the heavy holder directly into the mirror. As I bring my body around, I stumble forward after releasing, and still having my panties around my ankles, I trip and go ploughing onto the floor.
I hit the floor hard, all the sharp glass shards cutting into my body. The smell of strong perfumes linger in the air and the liquid burns my fresh wounds. I’m panting heavily and struggle to gain each breath.
I lie still on the floor as my breathing calms, the sharp pain of glass disappears and the smell of perfume vanishes. I soon realise it wasn’t calm moving in, but numbness. The numbness I had fought six weeks to overcome. I was back at square one, back to when Nate was first taken from me. I hadn’t moved forward, hadn’t made any progress, and was no closer to a future without my husband.
Closing my eyes, I pray for it to be over. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I thought I was. I thought I would be okay, but I won’t.
; I won’t ever be okay again.
Seven weeks later
It had been seven weeks since my breakdown. Seven weeks since my breakdown, or seven weeks of my breakdown? Because that’s where I am at. The exact same place I have been since I laid on my bathroom floor.
I’d pushed my friends and family out of my life. They tried their hardest to pull me out of it, but I was being stubborn, and I knew it.
I’ve been holed up in the house, no longer even taking my daily walks or stopping by the deli. If I ate at all, I ate what Mum and others had dropped off, or leftovers I had in the freezer from months ago.
I was surprised Mum, Dad, and Rachel still stopped by a few times a week, with the lack of reception they received from me. I would barely acknowledge them, only using grunts or nods. They persevered, but I could see how much it hurt them. I could see the toll it was taking on my parents. I wanted to snap out of it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the strength to fight.
Besides Mum, Dad, Rach, and the other various people who left stuff on my porch, the only other person I heard from was Jeanie, Nate’s mum. She had never come over, but called once a week or so to… I don’t know what she called for. To talk about the business, to talk about my eating habits, to talk about redecorating the house. She actually mentioned setting me up on a date last week. I had now gone to screening my calls and ignoring her voicemail messages.
I’m lying here on the couch in Nate’s way too big sweats and oversized college sweatshirt, with my greasy hair pulled up in a messy bun and no makeup on, watching our wedding video for the millionth time. A car door slams, from what sounds like my driveway. Reaching for the remote I mute the TV and listen. When a key enters the lock I immediately sit upright and freeze. As the lock turns and the door opens I hold my breath, expecting to see…
As Saxon’s face appears in the doorway, I release a huge breath as a wracking sob leaves my body.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he makes his way to the couch. He sits next to me and immediately wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me tight against him. “I’m so sorry, Brooke. I’m so sorry.”
Wherever You Will Go Page 3
