Wherever You Will Go(14)

“So I’ll see you before lunch?” I ask laughing.

“I don’t know. With your depressing attitude I’m thinking of turning around and going back home to Brooke.”

“Just don’t forget to grab your balls.”

“See ya soon, dickhead,” Nate grumbles.

“Hey, Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations, man. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, bud.”





Brooke thought she was pregnant. Well fuck.

Pulling the door shut behind me, I decide not to go storming in the main bathroom, demanding answers. She’d obviously been struggling even more than I’d thought. I was suddenly pissed at Jeanie for not explaining how bad the situation had gotten when she’d called me. She made it sound like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Actually, I’m sure she used those exact words when she called and asked me to come and check on Brooke.

I need to keep an eye on Brooke. If I push her too hard, I know she’ll pull away, and I won’t be able to watch her. How am I going to do that anyway? I need to get her into the office as soon as possible where I can be with her every day. Keep an eye on her and keep her busy and distracted.

Making my way back to the couch, I try to settle my anger. I don’t know what or who it was directed at, but there it sat anyway, just under the surface and ready to explode.

Resting my head on the back of the couch, I take a deep breath in and then slowly release it. As I peel my eyes open, I focus on the TV for the first time. I hadn’t even noticed it on before when I sat here holding Brooke for all that time.

I strain to hear and then realise it’s on mute. I don’t need to hear the sound; I was there all those years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. The DVD must repeat over and over as it’s playing the beginning of the ceremony. The camera is focused on Nate and me standing up the front, talking to the minister while waiting for Brooke to arrive. The moment she did was the moment I realised I had to pull back from our friendship. I couldn’t secretly pine over my best friend’s girl. She was about to become his wife.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees with my hands clasped together. You can see how damn happy the bastard was. He knew, he knew how damn lucky he was and he had a triumphant smile on his face all day. Gloating bastard.

I’m so immersed in the video I don’t hear Brooke enter the room, and only notice her when the couch dips beside me. She pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, hugging herself while watching the television. “Was a great day, wasn’t it?”

“The best,” she replies without removing her gaze from the TV.

We sit for a few moments more in a comfortable silence watching the video. Without the sound, it really makes me focus on what I can see happening: Brooke and Nate’s nervous fidgeting; their facial expressions, Nate’s one of love and protection, Brooke’s one of awe and contentment; the way they almost lean into each other, like there was some invisible rope pulling them.

As I take it all in, I find myself wondering if that will ever be me standing up at an altar, making a lifetime commitment to one woman. A woman who thought I hung the stars just for her, a woman who had no doubts she was my everything, and who knew I would do anything for her. A woman who when I looked at her I saw nothing else; a woman who made me feel like I needed her more than I needed my next breath. I know that’s what Nate and Brooke had. I just couldn’t see myself having it.

I have met a lot of women—a lot of women. There has never been one who I even considered seeing on a long-term, serious basis. Even the ones I grew up around were no examples of a fine woman.

My mother, if I can even call her that, was more concerned about her next high-society function than her own child, leaving me to fend for myself most of the time or dealing with her drunken anger.

Even Jeanie, who was an angel compared to my mum and had practically taken me in as her own, was like the girls I normally gravitated towards: the high society types whose only job is to find a man with money and social standing. They were great for a distraction and doubly worth it as they were high class enough, and you could drag them to a business function or two and they knew how to behave.

These women were not lifelong material. While I enjoy a lot of casual sex, that’s not the type of person I am. I may use women, but I’m always honest about my intentions and make no promises of anything more.

That’s not to say some fine women haven’t surrounded me: women like Brooke and Rachel. Women who are confident and independent. They don’t rely on men to build their self-esteem and tell them how pretty they are every five minutes. Women who work hard to get what they want, and get where they want to be.