by M. C. Decker
I chuckled at the memory of Rich taking me to the final destination on our trip before we headed back to the airport on our last day in New York City. When I walked into FAO Schwarz, I felt like a kid in a candy store.
“I googled that Duncan’s place you mentioned, but I didn’t come up with anything. I figured this was the next best option,” Rich said, as I stared in amazement.
We walked around for at least an hour looking at the aisles upon aisles of dolls, puzzles, games, remote-controlled cars, stuffed animals and action figures. I finally settled on the famous store’s signature teddy. I knew Kaitlyn would be beyond thrilled with her gift.
After sliding the last of my gingerbread men into the oven and with my dad stringing lights on the tree, I began to fantasize about what I’d be doing now if Rich were here with me. We’d probably spend most of the day at the mall Christmas shopping for our families. He’d make me sit on Santa’s lap; then we’d stop at the Christmas tree farm to chop down the perfect Fraser fir just like the Griswold family. (I can’t help it; I’m a sucker for classic holiday flicks). Granted, it would look nothing like the tree we saw at Rockefeller Center, but it would be our tree.
We’d come home and sit in front of the glistening evergreen, while sipping on my dad’s specialty hot chocolate. I was always so disappointed as a kid when I had to drink the powdered stuff while all of the adults got to drink his “special” recipe. Little did I know, until many years later, that he always added a dash (more if we were on Santa’s Nice List) of peppermint schnapps to the adult version.
We’d end the night, cuddling on the couch munching on popcorn balls and homemade sugar cookies, while we watched my all-time favorite holiday film, Holiday Inn— not the colorized version either, but the original black-and-white film starring Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire. It was one of my mom’s favorites, and we watched it as a ritual every season while we decorated the tree, or wrapped gifts.
After the movie, Rich would take me upstairs where he would unwrap the gift that I would wear and had purchased especially for him – a black lace nightie with a red ribbon tied in a loose bow right under my breasts. …
The oven’s timer announced that the cookies were done and snapped me out of my Rich-induced reverie. Just as I was slipping on my oven glove, my dad sauntered into the kitchen. I saw his hand grab one of the cookies that were already cooling on the counter.
“You know you have the same eyes as your mother? I could always tell when something was bothering her – just like I can tell that something is bothering you right now. What’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours, Brooke?” he asked.
“It’s nothing, Daddy, really. Let’s just eat the cookies I baked and watch a movie, or something. I bet if we surf through enough channels we will come across Elf. Oh … or we can always watch that old VHS copy of Christmas Eve on Sesame Street.”
No matter my age, I would never be too old to watch Big Bird trying to figure out how Santa Claus fits down that “skinny, little chimney.” Rich was right, I was a nine-year-old girl, trapped in a grown woman’s body.
“I do love Buddy the Elf, but right now I really think we should talk, baby girl. Is it that boy from college, that editor of yours?” Dad asked caringly.
“How – how do you know? Let me guess? Cassidy has been feeding you the gossip, eh? How much has she told you?” I questioned.
“Not too much, just that you are being stubborn as usual. You get that from your mother, too, you know?” Dad said.
“I just can’t, Dad. You know how much this job means to me. I’ve finally made it. After all these years, I’m there. I’m at the Washington Post.”
“Yes, Brooke, and I’m so proud of you for that, but I can tell in your eyes that something is missing. Maybe you should give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I could lose it all. I could lose my job and I could lose Rich. At least this way, I get to keep my job.” I answered dad’s question as truthfully as I could.
“Or, you could keep your job and live happily ever after with the man of your dreams.”
“Did you just watch Beauty and the Beast with Kaitlyn, Daddy? You sound like freakin’ Walt Disney.”
He laughed before adding, “No, Brooke, I’m being serious. It already sounds like you think that you and this Rich fellow would fail. Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I guess I don’t think that; I’m just afraid, that’s all.”
“Do you remember that saying that’s framed in your old man’s office?” he asked.
“Of course, I do. Mom and I had it framed for you as a Father’s Day gift when I was just a kid. She said it was always one of your favorite quotes. I remember we even wrapped and hid it, but you still managed to open and rewrap it before I gave it to you. You never were one for surprises.”
My dad laughed, before adding, “But, do you remember what it says, Brooke?”
“Yeah, if I remember right it was something Bobby Kennedy said, ‘Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.’”
“Yes, that’s exactly it, Brooke. You need to dare, take a leap, do what’s in your heart because it could be great. And, if it’s not, then you have gained vast experience already in your short time with the Post. Other superb newspapers in the country would want you in a heartbeat.”
I sat there for a minute in silence, really thinking about what my dad was saying. After what felt like several minutes, I finally nodded my head in agreement. “You’re right, Daddy. I need to give this a chance. I need to give Rich a chance. Thank you.” With that, I rose from the couch and walked over to my dad to give him the biggest hug. “Really, thank you, Daddy.” I said lovingly.
“Anything for you, honey – anything for you.”
“OK, enough of this gooey sh – show of emotion,” I added with a giggle.
“So, I guess the movie of choice tonight is actually Home Alone, huh,” questioned my dad, with some disappointment in his voice.
“Can you believe Rich has never watched Home Alone?”
“Well, we’ll need to make sure he’s here next year to watch it with us then, won’t we?” My dad said, with some sarcasm in his voice.
“Whatever, Dad, you know you love it as much as I do,” I chuckled back.
“If you say so, Brooke, if you say so,” he said, shaking his head.
With that, my dad and I did settle on the Macaulay Culkin classic that I remembered watching for the first time at the theater with him when I was only about nine. So much had changed since then, but I was still thankful for the time we shared and the advice he was still able to give me these many years later.
Cass was delighted to hear that my dad had finally been able to talk some sense into me. She insisted on taking me to Victoria’s Secret on the day after Christmas to shop for some sexy lingerie.
“He can’t see the same old stuff, Brooke. Besides, their semi-annual sale starts today. You can’t pass up BOGO panties.”
“Did you really just say, BOGO? You really have been watching too many TV commercials. You know you can fast forward through that shit these days, right? Welcome to the twenty-first century, Cass.” I said with a giggle.
“Whatever, don’t change the subject, bi-atch,” she exclaimed while giving me the finger. “Now, we are finding you the sexiest outfit, so you can bang, err ring, in the New Year in style.” She got this wild look in her eyes before adding, “Oooooh, or we can skip the lingerie store all together and head straight for the adult store, maybe even pick you up a naughty nurse outfit, or a Playboy bunny … the possibilities are endless,” Cass added.
“OK, OK. I’ll agree to the new lingerie, but stay classy, Cass – Victoria’s Secret ONLY.” I made sure to emphasize the “only” so she wouldn’t get any more over-the-top ideas.
The typical jitters that I usually experienced, boarding the airplane flying back to D.C., didn’t occur this time. Maybe the green beads that hung around my neck were helping to
ease my jitters. I wasn’t nervous, only anxious to get back to Rich and tell him that I wanted to try and work something out.
In order to preserve the integrity of our professional relationship, I thought we should take things slowly at first, but I still wanted a relationship with him. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when I told him the news. My flight was scheduled to arrive at around three in the afternoon and I knew he was scheduled to be at work.
As soon as my flight landed, I collected my baggage and hailed a cab to the office. After paying the fare, I made my way up to the twelfth floor. I opened Rich’s office door, and there he stood, on the phone, gazing out his window. I probably should have announced my presence, but I just stood there in awe at the man before me.
He had removed his suit jacket and haphazardly thrown it across his chair. His broad shoulders filled out his light green, button-down shirt which was loosely tucked in at his well-defined waist. He had rolled up his sleeves to the elbows, showing off the definition in his tanned forearms. Oh … and his perfectly tailored pants fit his fine, firm ass to perfection.
Rich’s deep voice broke my trance as he spoke to the mystery caller. I decided to stand in the doorway so as not to disturb his conversation. I probably should have returned to my office and waited, but I just couldn’t stop myself from eavesdropping on his conversation.
“No, I don’t have plans for the weekend, yet. What did you have in mind,” he asked, and then paused to let the caller continue. “Yeah, I think that sounds perfect, actually. I haven’t gone skiing in awhile and I think it would be the perfect opportunity for us to get away from everything. I’ll book a flight out to Vermont later tonight and meet you in the morning,” he said before pausing to listen again.
I had never been skiing before. I usually avoided those types of activities since I wasn’t even all that coordinated on flat surfaces, but I imagine I would give it a try for Rich. Besides, we could spend most of our time cuddled in front of the roaring fire at our cozy little inn. We would ring in the New Year with the finest champagne and a kiss at midnight; maybe even with that bang that Cass had not so subtly suggested.
I was deep in thought about playing the role of Rich’s ski bunny when I heard him say those three little words to his mystery caller.
“I love you. I’ll see you in the morning,” Rich cooed.
I must have let out a louder-than-intended gasp because Rich turned around to see me standing in the doorway, just as he was ending his call.
“Brooke, I didn’t realize you’d been standing there. How-how much did you hear?”
“Sorry, Rich. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just-I just came to tell you that I was back in town.”
“It’s good to see you made it back safely. I hope you had a nice Christmas with your dad and friends.”
“I did, thank you. I couldn’t help but hear you making plans for New Year’s, I assume?” I asked distractedly.
“Yep, I’m going to head out later today for a ski trip. So, obviously, I will be out of the office for a few days. I sent you an e-mail earlier today with a few story assignments. You may report to Kyle with any questions, or concerns.” Rich added.
“Oh, OK. Well, I guess happy New Year, Rich. I’ll get started on these assignments and see you in a few days.”
“Happy New Year’s to you too, Brooke.” Rich replied casually.
Before I headed back into my office, I couldn’t help but take a quick peek at the vacation schedule which was posted in Caroline’s cubicle. Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed when I saw that Janine, too, had some scheduled vacation the exact same time as Rich. He was doing this to me again. The first time he said he would wait for me, but he ended up with Aubrey Sullivan; now he was with big-breasted Janine.
I wanted to run back into his office and yell at him – shake him, even. How could he do this to me again? He promised me he would wait for me all those years ago and instead he shacked up with Aubrey. Now, he feeds me all that bullshit about me not dreaming – that we’re real. Then just weeks later he’s telling fuckin’ Janine that he loves her? Right again, Rich – not only am I dreaming, but it’s a fucking nightmare! Oh, and Happy New Year – my ass.
Instead of waltzing back into Rich’s office and letting him have it, I decided to take the higher ground and moped back into my office. I wouldn’t let him see me like this. I couldn’t control the tears that fell from my eyes and clouded my vision as I tried to access my e-mail.
Cass was right when she said he wouldn’t wait for me forever. Why did I always think I knew best? I had fallen in love with Rich, maybe even ten years ago, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. With my right hand, I began rubbing the beaded necklace that I had tucked behind my sweater before I entered the office. Just thinking again about Rich’s kind gesture that day only months ago, brought more tears to my eyes.
February 2012
Weeks had passed since I heard Rich professing his love for Janine over the phone. I gagged each time I was forced to watch those two flirt endlessly. I always knocked before entering Rich’s office for fear of walking in on them getting busy on one of Rich’s couches, or spread out naked across his expansive desk. The image conjured up in my mind was so depressing to me that I was convinced, if I actually saw it with my own two eyes, I would jump from the 11th Street Bridge, if given the opportunity. OK, perhaps, I’m being overdramatic, but point is – it hurt like hell.
I had decided in the weeks following New Year’s Eve that maybe Washington D.C. wasn’t the place for me after all. I missed my dad, Cass and Kaitlyn, like crazy, and I thought that I might be able to move closer to them while still staying at a newspaper in a larger market. Besides, seeing Rich and Janine together just made it that much harder for me; I just couldn’t take the pain anymore.
The irony didn’t escape me, either. I had avoided Rich in the beginning because I wanted my career at the Post more than I thought I wanted a relationship. Turns out, less than six months later, I wouldn’t have Rich, or my job in D.C. and not because it didn’t work out between us. Truth is – I did this. I never even gave us a chance. And, now he had moved on with someone else – again.
I had applied for a few reporting jobs throughout the Midwest – a couple in Detroit, one in Cleveland and another at the Chicago Tribune. It was just another ordinary Tuesday morning around the office. I had just gotten back to my desk, after covering a small-scale political rally just blocks from our building, when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number that flashed on the caller ID.
“Hello this is Brooke,” I answered.
“Hi, Brooke, this is Melissa with the Chicago Tribune. We have received your resume and would like to schedule an interview with you at your convenience. Would next week work with your schedule?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, thank you for the opportunity, Melissa. Next week would work with my schedule. If you could please just send an itinerary to my e-mail, I will be sure to make it work.” I assured her.
“Thanks again, and I look forward to my interview in Chicago,” I added, before completing the call.
Just as I was hitting end on my iPhone, I looked up to see Rich standing in my doorway. Before I could explain, I saw his face redden as he turned and abruptly exited my office. It wasn’t my intention to hurt Rich, but I needed to escape. This was all too much for me. I never expected to meet him again after all these years and it was more than I could handle. I had been an emotional wreck since the holidays and I needed to find my place again. And, unfortunately that place was without Rich Davis and without the career and city that I had always hoped for. I allowed myself to giggle momentarily when I secretly wished my next editor would be a sixty-year-old man with a receding hairline and potbelly. Please, I can NOT handle any more Nick Lachey look-a-likes!
After taking a few minutes to compose myself, I walked the few feet to Rich’s office and abandoned my new protocol of knocking first. Much to my surprise, I saw Janine sitting in one
of Rich’s office chairs with him sitting on the other side of the desk, looking visibly upset. Before I had time to take in anything else, I heard her utter the words I never expected to hear – “I’m pregnant.”
I wanted to walk away, rather run away – take a cab to the airport and take the next flight out of this goddamn city. I don’t care where it took me, I just needed to escape. Instead, my feet wouldn’t move. They remained planted in Rich’s doorway. Why did I keep walking in on his private conversations? I wasn’t trying to be a glutton for punishment.
Rich looked up and saw me standing there, probably hearing the bated breath finally escaping from my lips. Walking to the other side of his desk, his knees rubbed up against hers. “Don’t you worry about a thing, we’ll work this out – together,” he added as he looked at me.
I escaped his office just as abruptly as he had left mine just moments before – I had to leave. I couldn’t stay here in the same building any longer. I would just go home and wait for my e-mail from the Tribune.
I went home that afternoon and called in sick the next two mornings. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I intended on ever stepping foot inside that building again. My interview with the Tribune was scheduled on Monday and if that didn’t work out, I was considering just moving back in with my dad for awhile. Maybe I could crawl back and beg for my old job. Sure, it wasn’t glamorous, but no one broke my heart in all the years spent there, either.
For the third consecutive morning, I called Caroline and told her I was still suffering from the flu. I think she suspected that it was just a lie, but she didn’t push it – especially on today, of all days. Valentine’s Day wasn’t typically a favorite of mine anyways and the entire Rich situation just made it seem that much worse.
In the years since Mom died, whenever I became sad or depressed about anything, I always missed her even more than usual. It’s probably because she was always my constant – my rock. As a little girl, whenever I had an earache, stomach ache, or skinned knee, she would always seem to make it better. If I woke up in the middle of the night with a bad dream she would chase the monsters away from underneath my bed. As I got older, when I got a bad grade on a test, or if my crush didn’t invite me to a dance, she would always find a way to cheer me up.
