Chapter Ten
"I'll be back in about an hour or so. Have fun without me," she called before closing the door behind her. Sighing, she zipped up the fleece jacket that she was wearing and headed down the road towards the small park. She didn't have to tell Tim which one it was, because there was only one park for them. The park that they had finished their first date at, walking around and talking.
Her hands played with the drawstrings that were hanging from the jacket, anxiously pulling them and then loosening the jacket. Brooklyn was dreading this meeting, and she knew why. She didn't want a replay of their last little incident. Her feet were slow moving down the sidewalk, but all too soon, she saw the park, and she saw Tim sitting at one of the benches, watching the small children playing a distance from him.
The only reason that she had picked the park was because there was bound to be people there, and she didn't want to have this little talk in a private place. Public was just fine with her and would be for a little while, at least when she was around Tim. She moved through the grass towards the small path, and smiled hesitantly when Tim turned to see her. She didn't want anything to look out of the ordinary, since almost everyone in the town knew that they were dating. She was a little hesitant at first to go out with him around their small town, but she learned early on that the community was tight-knit and they didn't talk about anyone in town to outsiders. That was just the way it was.
"Hi," she said, sitting down beside him. It had cooled considerably, and she could see her breath come out in puffs before. She raised her hand and waved to a woman across the park, one of her neighbors. She waved back and then paid attention to her small girl, who was hanging upside down from the monkey bars.
Tim smiled and turned towards her. "Hey, Brooklyn." He brushed a piece of hair out of her face. She didn't even acknowledge the fact that there had been a hair there, and her hair had actually been out of place. "So, what do you want to talk about?"
Resisting the urge to drop her mouth, she cleared her throat and pushed her feet through the gravel. It buried the tips of her sneakers, and she moved them back. Too late. There were already little dust marks covering them. "What do I want to talk about? That's a funny question, Tim. Why don't we talk about...the weather, your family, and the bruises and cuts on my arms, huh? Does that sound good to you?" She forced herself to keep a pleasant sounding voice, so that it would look like she's happy.
He caught on, and did the same. "Well, the weather's been a little chilly today. They say it should clear up tomorrow and be warm. My family is just fine, thank you for asking. In fact, my sister's coming out after New Years to spend some time with me. Brooklyn, what's this about bruises on your arms? How did that happen?"
"According to JC, they happened by me slipping in the bath and falling backwards, but I refuse to lie to my friends forever. You caused them, I want to know why."
He turned to look at her again. "I think you know why I did what I did. You sound like you don't know. You were there, honey. You had to have been if you have marks on your arms." He smiled and turned back around, looking at the trees behind the playground. "Why don't we go over there to talk?" he asked, gesturing to the mini forest.
She made a face. "Somehow, I don't think so. I'm perfectly content right here, thank you very much." She fell silent for a moment, and dug her feet into the gravel. "I know how they happened to get on my arms, but that wasn't what I was asking. I was going to ask about what provoked you to actually hurt me. This is the second time that it happened, and though it may be small, I'm not putting up with it forever."
"And you don't have to. All you have to do is listen to me every now and then. I was only making friendly suggestions as to who you should and should not invite to the awards show." His hands were on his thighs, and she watched them every chance she got. If they came anywhere near her, in a threatening manner, she was ready to run and not look back. "Really, I didn't think that you were going to take it this serious."
Her eyes widened, and she looked over at him sharply. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that someone was looking at them, and smiled, like she had been surprised by him. She HAD been surprised, but not that kind that the person across the park was thinking. "Serious? Tim, I have to hide these marks from Austin. I have to hide them from JC. He saw them last night. He forced me to roll up my sleeves, and he thinks that you had something to do with it. Now, I have him lying for me. I told him not to tell Austin, because he would over react if he heard about me falling in the tub. I may not have fallen, but he definitely would be pissed off AT YOU."
He leaned back, and stretched out his arms. Brooklyn's eyes followed them closely, and she didn't relax until they were back on his thighs. "You look a little jumpy, sweetheart."
"And there isn't a reason why I shouldn't be jumpy. Damn it, Tim. You hurt me, physically. This is the last time that it's happening, or else I'm kissing you goodbye, and I hope that the door will hit your ass on the way out. This is stupid. This isn't the way that a relationship is supposed to work." She forced herself to not let her voice jump or grow in volume, but she was scared. Scared for her life.
"Brooklyn, you're over reacting. If it does happen again, you know that it's your fault." She sighed and looked away, not even wanting to hear the rest. His voice was sugary sweet, almost dripping with it, but she could hear the underlying tone. She could hear it plain and clear.
She stood up and brushed her hair back. "Tim, I'm going to go get a drink from the store. Wait for me here. Think about what you said, and what you did. When I come back, we'll talk more, okay?" She didn't wait for an answer, just walked away.
The store was only a little walk away, not even five minutes. She stepped inside and looked around. The magazine rack was near her, and she saw the cover of the Enquirer. Sighing, she walked towards the back, pretending to look at the choices of the drinks. While her eyes skipped over the different colored cans and bottles, she thought about what to do.
She loved Tim, no matter what happened, no matter what anyone said. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that loving someone the way she was would cause so much trouble. "I could just imagine what A&E would do with this for a Biography," she mumbled to herself, opening up the glass door. Her hand picked out a thick glass bottle of strawberry soda, and stopped to look at the selection of candy. Brooklyn didn't want to head back to the park just yet. She wanted him to have more time to think.
Sighing, she picked out a few five cent candies before turning to the counter. Smiling brightly, she dug in her back pocket for some money. Passing the cashier a five dollar bill, she pushed one of the candies into her mouth and chewed furiously. "Thanks," she said, taking her change.
Back outside, she took the time to open up the bottle and throw the cap in the garbage can. Her feet moved slower than ever as she started back to the park. Lifting the bottle up to her mouth, she sipped the soda slowly, her eyes on the park bench. Tim wasn't sitting there. In fact, he wasn't anywhere in sight. Forcing herself not to groan, she walked to the bench and sat down on the table part, her feet resting on the seat.
The woman that she had waved at before walked over to talk to her. "Hey, Brooke," she said, sitting down.
"Hi, Gina. How have you and the family been?" The bottle was raised for another sip.
The woman shrugged, her eyes following her child. "Not bad. Nothing really new. If you're looking for Tim, he said that he would be over there, by the trees." Brooklyn nodded, but didn't comment. "Well, I have to go. Oh, when are you going on tour?"
She smiled faintly, taking another candy out of her hand. "January. A little while away."
"Make sure to come and visit before you go. You stay safe, sweetie." She nodded and smiled, waving at her as she walked away. As soon as she was out of sight, a frown settled on her face. It wasn't unlike her to tell her to stay safe. It was her constant farewell, something that she knew would come at the end of any conversation. For the first time, she wondered if Gina knew something about what was going on.
Of course, that was ridiculous. Brooklyn knew that no one could know. She never told, and she never showed. The words had a deep impact on her, though, and she knew that she would be thinking about them for days to come. If not months.
Her head raised, and she looked towards the area that she had pointed at. Tim appeared from the trees and waved over to her. With a saucy smile, she shook her head, and chewed defiantly on her candy. He started to wave her over more urgently, but she kept the same routine, shaking her head with the smile, this time lifting the bottle up to her mouth.
His arms crossed, and his feet spread out so that they were shoulder length apart. It was the classic "I'm pissed off at you and I want you to know that" pose. She groaned, but refused to move. She knew the kind of damage that could happen if she walked over there. He was already getting mad at her, and she wasn't planning on going into a secluded area with him alone. She wasn't that stupid.
They continued looking at each other. His eyes burned into hers, and she could literally feel the heat. She could also feel her strength begin to crumble. He grinned suddenly. It was dangerous, very malicious. She would have given anything to look at JC's grin, one of happiness and laughter. THAT was supposed to be a real grin. "Honey, come here. I have something to show you," he called.
He knew that she wouldn't be able to do anything. She wouldn't be able to say that she didn't want to go over there, because she was afraid. The people that knew her, and there were a lot, turned to look at her, almost anticipating her answer. She could feel a flush creep onto her cheeks. "I can't. I think I twisted my ankle. I can't walk on it," she replied, smiling sympathetically. He knew the smile for what it was. It was one of triumph. She was trying to show that she had power over him.
In his opinion, that was completely wrong. To Tim, Brooklyn had no power whatsoever. She was just another female, looking to be guided through life by a man's helping hand. Shrugging, he started to walk over to her, and everyone looked away. They seemed happy with her answer, and went back to what they were doing.
His walk was slow, but he made it over there, sitting back beside her. He sat on the bench, his hand resting on her ankle. To anyone else, it would have looked like a loving gesture, just another opportunity to be near her. Brooklyn felt the pain, the hard clamp that he had put on it. She struggled to keep the pain off of her face, as he stopped, and just let it stay there very softly. Now, it was the loving gesture.
She remembered when it used to be a loving gesture that he would touch her with, but those days seemed to be gone. She wanted them back, desperately. She wanted to remember what it was like to have someone just touch her or hold her, pure love in their eyes. No hidden agendas, no hidden messages. "I have to admit this, you're smarter than I gave you credit for. You managed to come up with a good enough excuse. My only question would be, why did you feel that you needed that excuse." She went to open her mouth, but he rushed ahead. "No, Brooklyn, don't answer just yet. I have a few things to say, first. I don't think that you should be afraid to come near me. You know that I would never hurt you."
He turned to look at her, and his gaze suddenly traveled down to her ankle. His hand was still around it, but it was the soft hold, not the painful one. "Oh, God, what am I doing?" he asked himself, taking his hand away. He raised his head to look at her again, and there were tears gathered in his eyes. "Brooke, baby, you have to understand. I didn't mean to. I don't...don't know what's gotten into me. I just...damnit, I don't want this to happen. You must be so scared of me."
Regarding the tears silently, Brooklyn nodded her head. "Yes, I am. I wonder why. You have tried to beat me up twice now. Twice, Tim. I told you, I'm not going to stick around if you keep this up." Her bottom lip trembled softly, only enough for him to see. "I thought...I mean, we were so happy. I thought that you loved me."
"I do. God, I do, Brooke. It's just...I really don't know what's been happening. Please, say that you'll forgive me. I never meant for this to happen, and I don't know why it is. I just...I don't want to see you hurt, and I know, I've been hurting you lately, but please, I don't mean it." He took a deep breath, and blinked. The tears disappeared, but her heart was breaking. He didn't mean it. He never meant it. She couldn't believe the words that she was hearing. It was what she wanted to hear. "Don't give up on me. I'll get help if I have to. I'll do anything, but don't leave me. Please, don't. I couldn't live without you."
She didn't know what to say. Yes, she wanted to stay with him, but there was that lingering doubt in her mind, one that wouldn't escape her. She knew that she had to banish that thought if things were going to get better. It had to be gone if she wanted them to move on from this, and she did want to move on. "Don't you remember when we first watched Jerry McGuire? That quote, that one that fit us so perfectly. You complete me, right?" She nodded, afraid to speak. "That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. You're everything. You're my everything."
Taking a deep breath, she knew that this was it. This had to be it. Her mouth opened, and she spoke her thoughts, a difficult feat for such a private person. "I'm not going to give up on you."
JC looked up as the door opened. He walked into the foyer of the house and watched as she pulled off her sneakers slowly, dropping them on the ground. She looked tired. There was no other way to describe it. Her hair was wind blown and looked natural, but the look in her eyes. They looked spent, dull.
She raised her head and looked at him. Her hands came up and brushed her hair away from her face and behind her ears. "So, how was the walk?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.
Her shoulders moved in a shrug, while she continued looking at him. She wanted the lies to stop, and she decided that she shouldn't lie anymore. "It was...okay, I guess. I did a lot of thinking, and I ended up meeting up with Tim." He nodded, and waited for her to say something, anything. The silence was beginning to get a little uncomfortable. They had passed the uncomfortable silence a long time ago. "JC?' she asked, readjusting her sleeve, looking down at her sock clad feet.
She didn't say anything, and he tilted his head to the side. "What is it, New York?"
Still, Brooklyn didn't say anything. Instead, she walked forward and looked up at him. Her arms instantly came up and wrapped around his neck. Needless to say, JC was surprised, but he pulled her close to him. Her head pushed against his shoulder and she buried her face, tears burning her eyes. "I don't know what it is," she whispered, talking mainly to herself.
He heard the sniffle, he knew that she was very close to having her tears fall. One hand slid up her back and stopped in her hair. A single whimper escaped her, and she tightened her hold on his neck. "Yes, you do," he said, just as quietly.
"Yeah, I guess I do." She was quiet again, but she didn't want to let go. There was no way that she was going to let go. She needed this more than she would ever admit. For the past few weeks, she finally found out what she wanted. A simple hug, something that she could draw strength from.
Somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew that what he was going to say would make her pull away, make her angry. He couldn't help himself. The words started to flow out so effortlessly, and he couldn't do anything to stop them. "Your parents, right? New York, tell me."
Pull away she did, but only for a moment. She took her time, looking into his eyes. He felt as if she were looking into his soul, if that was possible. Her gaze was intense and wondering. Her eyes blinked a few times, but she didn't look away. "You're...you're serious. It's amazing," she said in a tone of wonderment.
A slight frown settled on his face. "Of course I'm serious. Why wouldn't I be?"
"No, that's not it. Your eyes. If my dad taught me one thing, he taught me that you can always tell a person's intentions by their eyes, and yours...it's just amazing. I've never seen anyone that is so eager to...help. I think that's what it is. You actually care about this."
Her head tilted to the side slightly, and she continued to examine his eyes. JC knew that he could pull away and demand answers. He also knew that Brooklyn wasn't like that. She wanted the opportunity to make sure that his intentions were pure, and so he let her stare at him. He knew that this was a test of strength by her, and he wanted to help her take the first step.
The silence in the house was immense. All he could hear was the ticking of the clock in the living room, where it rested atop of the television cabinet. The seconds ticked away as her eyes narrowed. It was up to him to break the silence. "You know that I care about whatever you have to tell me. You know that I care about YOU."
She nodded, but didn't move. "Yes. I mean, I wasn't sure, at first, but now...I owe you an explanation, and I feel sorry that it's taken so long in coming. Come on, we should probably get comfortable. This might take awhile." She broke her gaze and walked into the living room. A book of hers rested on the table, one that she hadn't been reading. A smile started to turn the corners of her mouth when she realized that it had been JC that had looked through her small library she kept in the music room, and it surprised her that she didn't care. She didn't care that he had been in there. That was something new for her altogether.
They sat down in the living room, and he watched as she pulled herself into the armchair and curled her feet under her. Her gaze went down to the arm, where she picked at the material. "You know, it's kind of weird. I've never explained this to anyone before. Austin knew exactly where I was coming from whenever I even mentioned anything remotely close to this. You're the first person I'm actually going to tell." Her eyes raised, and she blushed. "Don't be surprised if it doesn't come out sounding incredibly coherent. This is harder than I thought it would be." This time, it was her who frowned.
JC took a deep breath and looked over at her. "You know, I feel bad for bringing this up. I feel like I've been pushing you towards this, and now, I realize that I was wrong. You don't have to tell me, New York. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. It obviously makes you uncomfortable."
She nodded slowly. "It does make me uncomfortable, but you'll understand why, I'm sure. JC, do you remember that phone conversation we had about a month ago?" She shook her head and chuckled under her breath. "Stupid question. We had quite a few conversations that month, and my phone bill was a perfect reminder." He smiled, but didn't say anything. This was all her show. "Anyway, it was the one when we were talking about what we expect from people that we meet, and I clearly remember you telling me that you always asked for pure intentions and honestly. I have to admit, I haven't been very honest about everything, but I've tried." She hid the wince when she noticed what she was saying. She hadn't been very honest, but it was all going to end. Well, some of it was.
"Yeah, I remember that."
Quiet, she looked at him, but this time, she seemed to be looking straight through him. It was like he was never there, and she wouldn't be able to see him if her life depended on it. "You know, I started out having a nice childhood. We used to live in a house just like this. Austin and I had separate bedrooms, and we were happy. All four of us were happy, you know?" She didn't ask for an answer, and he wasn't about to give one. He didn't want to interrupt her and stop her from what she was saying. "I remember the days when Dad used to come home from work. The two of us would wait on the porch for him, and as soon as that car pulled in, we were off of it like a flash. Austin could beat me, there was no doubt, but he always pretended to lag a little, so I would meet Dad first."
A reflective smile spread on her face. "He used to pick me up and throw me into the air. Mom was always worried that he would drop me, or not catch me, but he always caught me. I knew he would. I was never afraid when he did that, because I knew, when I was coming down, I could see his smiling face, and that would put all the reassurance into me that I ever needed. It would put all the love in me that I ever needed. He would call me Brookie. That was how I used to say my name, and he thought it was cute. 'Hi, Brookie. What did you do today?' he would ask. I would smile and tell him that Mom and I baked cookies for him, or maybe I colored a new picture. It was the same every day.
"Austin would come up after that, and hug Dad when I was back on the ground, but I was truly Dad's. It was funny. Austin was Mom's, I was Dad's. We always knew that. It wasn't that they didn't love either of us any more or any less, but we knew. That young, and we picked up on so much. It's amazing how perceptive children can be." He nodded again, not wanting her to quit. It sounded like she had a fairy-tale like childhood, but he couldn't help wonder what this had to do about her parents dying.
"We would all walk in together, and Dad would be holding my hand, like he was afraid that he was going to lose me on that short little walk." The smile on her face was more remembrance than happiness, he could tell that right away. She still couldn't see him, but somehow, she knew that she was talking to him. "Dinner would be ready for when Dad got home. That was a must. That's why Austin and I were always out on the porch then. We didn't want to bother Mom while she was cooking, because she needed all the concentration she could get." She giggled, and he wasn't all that surprised to hear that it was the giggle of a young girl. "We would sit down to a happy dinner, everyone smiling and laughing. Dad would tell some story about what happened at work, and Mom would talk about something a friend told her. Austin and I would listen like we couldn't get enough.
"After dinner, Dad would take me upstairs, and read a story to me. I was still really young then, and it would be time for me to go to bed. He'd always read whatever I wanted him to, usually Goodnight, Moon. That was my favorite. After he finished, he would pull the covers up underneath my chin, and pretend to look around my room for monsters." She laughed again. "He would look under the bed, and in the closet. 'Yoo hoo, are there any monsters in here? There better not be. My little Brookie needs to get to sleep,' he would say. He would turn on my little night light, and look down at me. 'Well, I didn't find any monsters this time. I think they went away for good.' He would bend down and kiss the tip of my nose, and say that he loved me and goodnight. He turned off the light, and my eyes would follow him to the door. He would back up very slowly, and he would leave the door open a crack, just enough for the hallway light to help my night light. I knew when I woke up that he would be in the kitchen, reading the paper."
She moved in the armchair until her head was resting on the arm. She wasn't looking at him anymore, but he could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "All of a sudden, things started to change. They changed fast." One tear rolled over her nose, and fell, but no more followed. "Mom wasn't as happy as she used to be. She wouldn't smile, and she didn't talk as much. When she did, it was always about money. 'We don't have enough money for that, Jake,' she would say. 'We can't afford to get Brooklyn another pair of jeans. She'll just have to make do with what she has.' It was almost like Austin and I didn't exist anymore. The only constant around the house was music. The radio was always on, and Austin and I soon learned the words to the songs, even if we didn't get them right all the time. We didn't even play make believe anymore. It was too hard. Instead, we just sang. Both of us. The radio was in the kitchen, and the kitchen window would always be open. The music would float out to us, and we sang. It was all we could do.
"We started to cut down on a lot around the house. Mom sold some of her jewelry, and Dad sold the sapphire ring that she had given him on their first anniversary. There was a big fight over that one. That's one that sticks out in my mind. Mom was so mad when she found out, but we needed the money. For some reason, it just wasn't coming in like it used to. No one would say where it disappeared to, but we found out in a few years. God, did we ever."
The tears were still evident in her eyes, but now, her eyes were filled with some sort of fire that he didn't recognize. It was new to him, and it frightened him. She looked absolutely angered and saddened at the same time. A combination that he had never seen before. "It turned out soon enough that we couldn't afford to keep the house. Two mortgages, and they foreclosed on us. Not that it really mattered. The telephone was cut off, the electricity was cut off, because we couldn't pay the bills. We had just enough money to get the trailer, the same one in the backyard. All of our stuff was moved in there, and we moved it to a small trailer park in Nashville. Austin and I were sharing a room then. It was the size of a shoebox, really. Just enough room for two beds.
"A lot of things changed. Mom and Dad got quieter, but there was always one thing that we could depend on. The radio. That damned radio that was always on. I think the only reason Mom kept it on was so that we would leave her alone. I could only depend on two things: my brother and that damned radio. It turned out to be a difficult thing after awhile."
Now, JC was beginning to understand where she was going. It was all part of the story, and her clear voice had him entranced. There was no tremble to it, and it stayed at the same volume. She was almost detached from herself, but she was still there. Now, he understood it all. Everything that she was telling him somehow came back to her love for music. Now, he was learning her whole history, and it seemed to be related to one thing. Music. "Mom would sit there and listen to us after awhile. It was strange. She couldn't stand to be around us anymore, but she would sit there and listen to us. There was this...weird look in her eyes, and this strange smile on her face. After awhile, I learned what it meant. 'You know, you two are pretty good,' she would say in this sort of sarcastic voice. 'We're in Nashville. Why don't we get you two a record contract? That way, we'll be able to move back into a house. You can support us.' That was all she really wanted from us them. After that, she made sure to always turn on the radio. Even if we didn't want to sing, even if our throats hurt, she would keep it on and tell us to sing.
"I don't know. Maybe it was some sort of path that she never took. Mom never had a good voice, but maybe she wanted to be a singer. Either way, she kept pushing us. Austin would stop when she would push, but I would sing. I'd just keep at it until she was happy, because that was all I wanted. For her, for all of them, to be happy, and if I could do that by singing....I would. I just wanted some sort of attention. We never got any. I just wanted people to look at me, to smile and maybe say that I'm such a good little girl. All I got was 'You better keep singing, Brooklyn.
"Why do you think that I don't care for my full name all that much? Because they used to call me that. No more Brookie, no more Brooke. It was always Brooklyn. The way that they said it, it just sent shivers down my spine. Anyway, Dad started to drink around then. It started out small, you know? Nothing big. A beer a night. It started to get worse after a little while. Soon, all he would say to me would be 'Brooklyn, go get your daddy a beer.' That was all I was then. A little girl that was pushed to sing, and a little girl that was forced to be a waitress. So, I would get him his beer, open it for him, and sit there, just looking at him. I used to wonder whatever happened to reading Goodnight, Moon, or whatever happened to looking for monsters. The only monsters were my parents.
"I still loved them, though. You have to understand that. I loved them despite everything. Austin and I would go to bed...even he would go to bed earlier. They were start to fight, and scream. I would pull the covers over my head and cry, almost every night. Austin would come and lay down beside me, because only he could stop me from crying. I would be quiet, because I didn't want my parents to know, but he would spend the night with me, making sure that I was all right. Those nights were the worst out of all of them. The nights when I felt so unloved that I would just cry myself to sleep, because I didn't know any other way to go about what I was feeling."
This was the Brooklyn that he had met? The one who almost always had a smile on her face, and made everyone laugh with her sarcastic sense of humor? This was the woman who millions of people loved? She was very good at hiding whatever she was feeling, whatever she was thinking. She was good at hiding all of it. He had never imagined that such a secret had been inside her, and she had never talked about it. Never once did she mention it to anyone. "His drinking got so bad that he lost his job. Mom was forced to get one, because Dad would just sit there, pissed out of his mind. Still, the money was going somewhere. We still couldn't pay our bills, and Mom was making more than enough to pay them. Far more than we needed.
"We stayed like that for a few years, and when I was seventeen was when everything happened. Austin was still at home, because he didn't want to leave me. He had gone through a cooking school, through a scholarship. He was working at the restaurant then, but it was just a small job. Not a chef, basically an assistant. I was signed to a record contract after I met Joe. He convinced me that I should audition for Curb. He heard me at the roller rink, with my friends, and started to talk to me. I thought he was a freak. I didn't believe him, but when he set up the audition for me, I couldn't help but want to go. I had a true love for music then, and I knew that it was what my mom wanted me to do. I got the contract, for two albums. I had started to work on them, and I was getting a paycheck every week for the work that I was doing.
"Most of that money went towards the bills. Mom wouldn't pay them, because we found out that she was hooked on drugs. Mainly pot, a little hashish, but nothing really big yet, you know? We knew that she did cocaine a few times, but not much. She didn't know that we knew, though. Dad didn't know. He never noticed anything around the house anymore. I don't even know if he really realized that I had a record contract, signed, sealed, and delivered."
Now the tears were back in her eyes, but they didn't fall. Her voice was beginning to change, too. It was a lot softer, a lot quieter. "I took them all out for dinner to celebrate. God, I was so happy. I picked out this really fancy place, and paid for the whole thing. It was like old times. Mom was happy, Dad was happy, and Austin and I couldn't believe our luck. It was after dinner that the whole problem began. Dad saw some people that he knew at the bar, and he wanted to go talk to them. He had a few drinks already, and he was near to smashed. He had drove us there, so we told him that we would take a taxi home. Not big deal, really. We always did this if we went out. I gave him some money, and he surprised me by hugging me and kissing my cheek. 'I'm sorry that I can't pick you up anymore,' he said. It floored me. He actually remembered that. I smiled and told him that it was all right. He smiled, and waved us away.
"We got a call later that night. There had been an accident, and Dad had been involved. He slammed into another car, driving drunk. They wouldn't tell us what happened, but they asked us to come down to the police station. I figured that he was fine, because they didn't tell us that we had to look at a body and see if it was my father. Mom could care less. She was too stoned out of her mind to even comprehend, so Austin and I headed down there, by taxi. We knew what happened the second that we walked into there. The looks on their faces...
"They told us that he died. He was killed automatically, and didn't feel any pain. I couldn't believe. My father basically killed himself. The other drive was fine, just a few bumps and bruises. He said that he felt so bad, but it didn't even register. My father was killed. I couldn't believe it."
Now, another tear fell. Only then. She didn't feel this one, either. It just rolled down her face, and hit the floor. She sat up and finally looked at him, really looked at him. "I feel so sorry for lying to you, but I told everyone that story, and I didn't expect you to be any different. I didn't think that I would end up being this close to you, that you would affect me this much. You don't know how hard it was to look at you when I realized what I was doing.
"The day before my birthday, my dad was finally put to rest in the ground. The newspaper did a little story on it, but not much publicity was put to it. No one knew that I had a record contract, and they could care less. It was pretty quiet. Then, the morning of my birthday...that was a true test of my strength. Austin woke up before me. I don't remember why, but he did. I never saw what happened, but I know. I KNOW what happened. Mom was found lying on the table, beside my birthday present. The card, the bow...it was already wrapped. She had over dosed the night before, after she had wrapped it up. Austin called the police and came into our room. I remember him waking me up and just holding me. He wasn't crying, but he wouldn't tell me what was happening. 'You just can't go out there, Brooke,' he told me. So, I stayed. I would and still will do whatever he told me or tells me. I just sat there, and listened to him breathe. The police came, and Austin left the room, but only after I promised that I would stay where I was. He talked to them, and then he came back. I couldn't hear what they were saying, because they went outside to talk.
"When he came back, he told me that Mom was dead, and they had already taken away the body. I couldn't believe it. The perfect irony. Mom hated me at that point, and she ends up dead on my birthday. The perfect present, right? I couldn't even muster the tears to cry for her. Not then. I wouldn't open my presents, I wouldn't see anyone. I just wanted to be alone. It took me weeks before I finally opened up what she had gotten me. It was like someone talking from the grave. She was, really. The card, that's what I'll never forget. 'Brooklyn, you finally did what I told you. Congrats on the record deal. You'll finally be able to pay us back by supporting us. Happy birthday.' That's exactly what it said." She looked towards him, and smiled. It was bitter, hurtful. "I can see the question in your eyes. What was the present, right? You know those cowboy boots that I wear all the time?"
She wouldn't talk until he nodded. His eyes went towards the foyer, where he could see the boots sitting beside the door. "Yeah, those ones. She gave me those, because she said that every country star should have a pair of cowboy boots. Nice mom, huh? Maybe you don't understand why I've kept this so quiet, or maybe you do. I covered it all up when I released my CD. Joe knows the real story, but only because Austin told him. He helped, making sure that a story never ran. They decided that it could ruin my career if it got out. Alcoholic father, druggie mother, and a country star daughter? It just doesn't fit.
"I have to admit, I normally wouldn't tell you this, but I've been pushed by someone that is threatening to tell the whole story and expose everything. I don't want that to happen, but I also don't want to lie to you anymore. I just...I couldn't stand it. This isn't something that you casually mention in conversation. What was I supposed to say, 'Hi, I'm Brooklyn Turner, and my parents were two idiots that managed to kill themselves'? Would you have collaborated with me if I came out with something like that? I don't think so."
It took a little while for the words to sink in, and when they did, he looked up at her. She was beyond shocked to see that even he had tears in his eyes. It had taken a good half hour to tell the story, if not longer, and he hadn't said a word during the whole time. "So, you did all this, not telling me, just so that I would sing on your album?" The tone wasn't hurt. He could understand why she hadn't mentioned it. It was a very painful story just to listen to, let alone experience, but he was still confused about some parts.
"No, God, no. I didn't mean that. I will admit to the fact that yes, after I heard you sing, I would have done anything to have you on the album. What I didn't expect that you would turn out to be such a caring, such a wonderful person. I never thought about that." She laughed once more, but it was more gentle. "Why did you have to turn out to be such a great person? I could have just forgotten about you, and not worried about this, but no. Thanks, JC."
She was hiding behind humor again, but it was a weak attempt, one that he had picked up. He stood up and walked over to her, crouching down beside her chair. Now the tears started to fall, and fast. This time, she took notice and wiped them away with shaking hands. "What did you expect me to be like?" he asked softly, watching her.
Her head turned to look at him, and her eyes blazed a liquid green fire. "I expected you to be like almost everyone else in my life. I expected you to leave me, forget about me. I expected...I wanted you to be like all of them." Her face lifted defiantly, and she brushed back her hair from her face. "I expected you to just get on that plane to Orlando and forget about the name Brooklyn and forget about who I was. I expected to see you a few times in my life, and have a small 'hello' passed between us, and then we would go on our merry lives. THAT was what I expected but that wasn't what happened."
"But you knew that wasn't going to happen." He picked up one of her hands from the chair and held it, warming it slightly. She swallowed hard and refused to look at him. Her mind was begging for an interruption, but Tim wasn't going to come over, and Austin was spending the night in Nashville. The one time that she wanted an interruption, and she wouldn't get one. Why couldn't one of the neighbors knock on the door, asking her a question. That was too much to ask, obviously. "You knew, somehow, that it wasn't going to happen." He took a deep breath and used his other hand to make her look at him. To make her look in his eyes, like she had before. "I wanted to same thing, at first, but you...when you burst into the room that first day, with that stupid bagel clamped in your teeth, apologizing because you had to run up the stairs, I KNEW that there was something about you. Maybe it was the way that you smiled, or the way that you just had to run down for your cowboy hat...there was just something about you that told me that I couldn't let go of you. I never expected you to turn out to be such a great friend, to the point where you and I are spending a good hundred dollars a month on our phone bills."
Her lips lifted in a smile, but not much of one. "And I thought it was the eyebrows that reeled you in."
"Not even close." He pulled her out of the chair and into a standing position before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him for the second time that day. She fell into him embrace willingly, her eyes closing as she pushed her face against him. One hand went up and down her spine, instantly soothing the tense muscles in her back. "Just looking at you, New York, you can tell that you're a person that wants to be loved, but isn't for some reason. You loved your parents, but after awhile, they didn't return that same love to you." She nodded softly against him, the softness and caring in his voice bringing tears to her eyes. "You DO have a lot of love in your life, though. You just haven't seen it. You have Tim in your life, and you know that he loves you beyond a doubt." For some reason that he couldn't fathom, that caused her to cry harder than before. A single sob escaped her mouth, and she tightened her hold on him. "You know that Austin loves you more than anything in this world. There's never been a doubt about that in your mind. You know that Joe loves you. He has a very soft spot in his heart for you, that much is obvious even to me."
She chuckled softly, but he could still feel the wetness of her tears soaking into his shirt. "Molly loves and protects you more than you probably know. You wouldn't believe some of the speeches that I've gotten from her about you. You know that...maybe you don't know." He brought her away from him and bent a little to look her in the eyes. Her tears silently slipped down her cheeks, leaving trails on her warm skin. "I never told you this, and maybe I should have a long time ago, but I love you, more than you could imagine. You're one of my greatest friends. There's some things that I talk to you about rather than talking to my friends about. Maybe they're too close to me, and I'm around them almost every day, but you...you always know where I'm coming from. You always understand me, and that makes me love and appreciate you more every day."
At first, Brooklyn looked happy, but she pushed away from him and walked over to the window. She stood there, looking out, her arms crossed under her breasts. "Please, JC. I didn't tell you that story for your pity. You wanted to know. I know that you did. It's always been in your eyes, hidden in the tone of your voice, but don't think that I ever want or need your pity." She whirled around, her honey brown hair falling in her eyes. "I never want it. You have to understand. I don't live off of other people's pity, and if that's what you were giving me, you might as well pack your bags and leave right now."
It was great to see some sort of reaction out her, besides what he had seen for the past hour. The anger was more than welcome by him. "New York, you know that's not what I meant. I wasn't offering you any pity. Yes, I feel bad that you had to grow up like that, but it's the past. It's finished."
"No, it isn't!" she shouted suddenly. "It isn't finished. My parents anniversary is coming up. How do you think I feel? I still celebrate it, damn it. They died in January, my mom on my birthday. How the hell do you think I feel? I relive it almost every night. I still have nightmares about it. Where the hell do you come off telling me that it's in the past. You don't live my life, JC. You don't know what I go through." She stalked towards him, the anger practically radiating out of her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled dangerously. "Damn it, you had the perfect childhood. Don't even try to deny that to me. You were the perfect child, who was always in the spotlight. A performer at a young age, isn't that what you told me?"
"Yes, but-"
"But nothing! You would never understand what I have to go through. NEVER. My mother died in the very trailer that is in my back yard and you tell me that it's over? I can't get rid of that stupid thing, because I need it around at all times to remind me of what my life used to be. It makes me strive to be better than them. It makes me want to be better than they turned out. I still LIVE what happened, every day, every night of my life, and you stand here and tell me that it's over? That it's in the past?" She turned around to gesture to everything in the room with a swooping movement of her arm before she looked at him again. "All of this resulted because of them, because of what they used to tell me, and what they used to do. Everything in my life is about them. I can't help but live what happened. It's part of me, part of my life. You try being scared to sleep because..." She trailed off as her breath hitched in her chest. It turned into a sob before she could stop it. "You try being scared to sleep because you're afraid that the dreams will haunt you again. You try being scared to go out of the house because so many people know your secret and could easily let it slip to ruin your career. You try being scared that you're going to turn out just like them."
He walked towards her slowly, almost as if he were afraid that she was going to make a sudden movement and hit him. "Brooklyn, you're better than them. You always have been. I can tell that by what you've told me. You were better than them, and you are better than them. It would never happen to you."
"How can you be so sure? How can you be so damned SURE? JC, you don't know me, and that's all my fault. If you knew me, you wouldn't be saying that. Austin tells me all the time that I'm better than them, but I don't believe it because I know differently."
JC's eyes clouded with something that neither of them could identify. He took her by the hand again and pulled her out of the living room, towards the foyer. He made her turn to the mirror that hung on the wall, his hands on her shoulder. His face appeared over her right shoulder and his eyes stared at her through the piece of looking glass. "Brooklyn, look at yourself in the mirror. Tell me what you see."
She laughed scornfully. "This is stupid, and it has nothing to do with what we've been talking about."
"It has everything to do with what we've been talking about. Just look in the mirror, look in your own eyes, and tell me what you see." She looked at herself, but didn't say anything. Her shoulders tensed up, letting him know about her hesitance to do so. "Fine, I'll tell you about the woman that I see." He took a deep breath and looked deeply into her eyes. "You have a sense of humor that rivals most. You're very sarcastic, but not to the point where it could hurt people. You know your limits exactly, and you never let yourself cross them. There's this sparkle in your eyes that's pure laughter, and no matter how you try to hide it, or how many tears fall from them," he said, pausing to wipe away one of the tears that rolled down her cheek, "it's always there. You're a naturally happy person. You can tell because you smile so often. There are these little lines right here beside your eyes that don't come from age. They come from smiling and laughing. That automatically tells you that you're a happy, secure person. You're a very intelligent person. That you can tell from just talking to you for a few minutes. These bits of wisdom just slip out so effortlessly, you would never know that you're changing a person's life with the way that you say them."
Her shoulders moved, and she moved to look at his eyes with a pained look. "Please, JC, don't." Her voice was no more than a whisper, one that he could barely catch with his musically trained ears.
He shook his head and continued to look at her through the mirror. "I'm not finished, New York, and until I am, you're just going to have to stand here and listen to me sing your praises." He wiped away the fresh batch of tears before he started to talk again. "You're a person that searches of love everywhere. It's in your eyes. You want someone to depend on, someone that isn't obligated to love you. I don't know why, but you haven't found that person yet. There are plenty of people that love you, but you haven't found that special someone yet." She nodded slowly with his words, and he smiled tenderly. "You're a person that cares very deeply for everyone that she meets, even if it's a random hello on the street. You care deeply for each and every person that you haven't met. It's one of your downfalls. The other downfall that you trust too easily. You'll believe anything that anyone would tell you. You put yourself forth as the woman that would have to see it to believe it, but being around you so much, I can see that." He stopped to take a breath. He shifted slightly as that he was standing behind her, his arms loosely around her neck. "You're a person that's been hurt many times, and you're wary of people now, just like you were wary of me. Like you STILL are wary of me. Your parents have hurt you, it looks as though Austin may have ever hurt you once, and I think that Tim has hurt you before. Maybe not intentionally, but it's happened, and it's hurt you deeply."
"Okay, you've made your point," she said, and pulled away from him. She looked at him once, very quickly, before she walked into the kitchen. He listened as she opened the door to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of water. The filtered jug was put back in, and she closed the door. He walked into the kitchen as she took a sip, her head thrown back for a moment. "JC, really. This discussion is over."
He nodded and came to stand near her. "You're right. The initial discussion is over. We stopped talking about your parents a long time ago. Now, we're talking about you. To tell the truth, for the past three quarters of an hour, we've been talking about you." He took the glass from her hand and put it on the counter. "New York, I don't think that you clearly understand. The reason that I said all that, the reason that I made you stand in front of the mirror...wow, this is hard to say."
A disdainful look was tossed his way. "Really. Imagine that," she said, rather dryly. "Are you having problems saying something? I never imagined that you would have that problem."
JC knew what she was doing, but didn't let it affect him. "What I've been trying to tell you about is you. Everything that I've told you relates to me and what you do to people. YOU make people laugh. YOU make people smile. YOU share your intelligence with people. YOU make people want to love you, depend on you. YOU make people want to care. YOU make people want to trust. Everything that I've described, all of those people that you have touched, I am one of them. I'm one of the people that believe in you, love you, support you, depend on you so much that it's scary. YOU are the type of person that makes ME strive to be better.
"I don't know your parents, and I'll never meet them, but if everything that you've told me is true, and I have no doubt that it is, then I know that you're far better than them. Do you know why you're better than them?" She shook her head despite herself. "Because, you, Brooklyn Arizona Turner, are you. Simple as that, you are you. You're not pretending to be someone that you're not, and you never have. You're better, because you're you."
He looked up at her, his own eyes shining with tears. He thought that maybe he was starting to become as emotional as she was. Maybe he was starting to turn into the male version of Brooklyn Turner. Either way, he was worked up, and for once, he wasn't afraid to show it. "I can't promise you that I won't hurt you, but you have to know that I won't hurt you intentionally. I wish that you would just trust me, simple as that, but there's so much going on in your life, and so much that has happened, that it might be a little while in coming. I'll wait until you can trust me. I'll wait forever if I have to. You have to know that despite all of that, I'll always love you. I'll always support you, but no matter what, I'll always love you."
She nodded her head slowly. "Thank you, JC. You probably know that I can't say the words just yet, because it's...I want to trust you so badly but it's hard. I just want you to know that I...appreciate it all. Man, that sounded really lame, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do. Listen, why don't you and I watch a movie. Get our minds off of everything that's happened today. We both could use it."
Her top lip had found a permanent place between her teeth and bottom lip. "Actually, I'm a little worn out. If you don't mind, I think I'll just head upstairs for a nap before we do that. This day, all of it, has been a little much so far." He nodded and bent down to place a kiss on the top of her head. He smiled faintly before walking out of the kitchen. "Wake me up in an hour or so, please," she asked. Her feet sounded hollow on the stairs as she made her way up to her room.
The door shut deftly behind her, and she looked around before changing out of her jeans and sweater into a pair of track pants and a tee shirt. Her socks, bundled up into small balls, were tossed into the corner of her room before she sat down at her laptop computer and dialed up her connection. She didn't know where her mind was going, but she opened up the picture of her mother, and stared at it for a little while, before she did something that made her feel completely foolish. She leaned forward and kissed the cheek of the computerized image before turning away and crawling underneath the covers of her bed.
To the person standing in the doorway, it wasn't foolish at all. In fact, it was the most heartfelt thing that JC had ever seen. The computer stayed on while Brooklyn fell asleep. He really didn't know why he was standing there, watching her. As he walked down towards his room, he had heard the Internet connection start, and he had opened the door slightly, just to see what she was doing. He knew that the picture was of her mother by the way she acted, not by how it looked. It looked little like the woman in the bed, if at all. The eyes were the same color, that he had noticed, but her mother's eyes were more cold, distant than Brooklyn's ever were.
Taking a deep breath, and wondering why he was even attempting this, he walked a little further into the room, keeping his eyes off of the computer. What was there was none of his business, and he didn't want to look at it anymore. Instead, he knelt down beside the bed and watched her sleep. The way her lashes gently brushed her face, and the way that one finger twitched in her sleep. Somehow, he knew that she wasn't going to have any nightmares.
Somehow, he knew this.
Chapter Eleven
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