Chapter 11 Brooke:
I stare up at the ceiling, becoming dizzier by the second. It is true. I am the replacement of that rotten product of Steve's first marriage. I didn't even know my dad was married in the first place.
Demons. This Christmas is full of them. As I look around the room I realize something. I hate it. I hate my bedroom. It is sickening. It's all based on a complete web of lies, just like my whole relationship with my parents. It seems really fake, the teddy bears, dolls and posters all seem to have kind of a robotic feel to them. I stare at the picture of Ted and I at senior prom, we look almost like a pare of puppets. Now I am scared. I don't know whether this is a symptom of Lou Gehrig's Disease, or if it is a symptom of betrayal, I am not even sure if it matters or not. The pins and needles in my leg become more and more intense. I can here shouting outside.
Kim is tearfully calling the police and telling them that she no longer feels safe around Brock. Brock is tearfully apologizing.
"Kim. I'm sorry god damnit. I would never hurt you,
"You already did!" Kim sobs, her voice is full of betrayal. "I'll never do it again" I would come out and join all the drama, except for the fact that I am immobile due to pins and needles, dizziness and just the general worsening of Lou Gehrig's Disease." A terrible thought suddenly crosses my mind. It is all because of me and my Lou Gehrig's Disease, that this whole fiasco had to happen. And now I just want to be alone, the only ones I want to have any connection with are the anthropomorphic pictures that the chipped paint on my wall and ceilings have made. I know there's a word for it, I just don't know it. There is a sharp knock at my door. "Brooke open this door this instant" My mother says. I pretend I don't hear her.
"Brooke Veronica Shy" She snaps. "I don't have anything to say to you" I tell the ceiling. "You must want your favorite eggnog cheese cake" She calls up to me. How can she just go on pretending everything's fine, how does she think she can make up for all of this with eggnog cheese cake?
Don't get me wrong, it is super amazing and everything, but it won't make up for the fact that I have Lou Gehrig's Disease, or that I have a psychotic brother, or that the only reason for my entire existence was to replace that psychotic piece of shit. Obviously everything is so not fine. Apparently I did not lock my door. My mother lets herself in and sits on the side of the bed.
"Christmas was quite a disaster this year wasn't it?" She asks. The tone of her voice is very passive aggressive. "I don't want to talk to you" I say staring up at the ceiling. "There's quite a lot we need to discuss" She says smoothing out my blankets.
"I think you've said everything you needed to say" I tell her then roll over to my side. My mom lies next to me, the way she used to when I was a little girl and had a nightmare. "Kim called the police" She tells me, "Brock physically harmed her" "Oh my god" I say,
"Is she okay?" "The important thing is, Brock's out of the picture for the time being, he's been sentenced for 14 years in prison for physical harm. But of course up until now, he wasn't in the picture" I cover my face with my lacy pink pillow. "Oh shit mom, I'm so sorry. Look there's so much for me to think about it. Could we please not discuss it now? I want to be alone" My mom lifts the pillow up from my face.
"Well if you don't want to talk about it now, then when would you like to talk about it?" She asked, "Because believe me Brooke Veronica Shy, this is absolutely not going to go un talked about. "I don't know" I say re stuffing my face in my pillow.
"How about tomorrow?" She suggests in a way that I cannot say not to. "Why don't we have lunch in fact? I'll make reservations at Drago Centro's fine dining" She says, using her evil weapon, she knows very well I can't resist the awesomely amazing finest italian restaurant in all of LA. They are especially famous for their hand made four cheese tortellini, it is melt in your mouth good and I am not even a big fan of tortellini, usually it's icky and the texture reminds me a lot of ears filled with a shit ton of wax.
Drago Centro's tortellini's are different. They are to die for as a matter a fact. My mother is evil for suggesting that restaurant when I want to be as far away from her as humanly possible and am dying to hold the conversation off for as long as possible. just plain evil. I would like to stay mad at her for as long as possible. To stew in my own juices for a while. "No!" I say curtly. "I don't want to" I fold my arms across my chest.
"Brooke" She says sharply. "We're going!" "It's been a long time since we've had any good mother daughter bonding time. It will be fun. Oh and before we go to lunch, I think we should stop in and give Candy a little talking to." "No!" I say again. "Please don't" I don't want my job back. Not even in the slightest. My mother gives me the stare and I know that when she gives me that stare it is going to be bad. I can not say no to her when she gives me the stare. "Oh all right fine" I say grudgingly. "I'll make reservations right now" She says.
"Super" I say. My mom straightens out my blankets again. "It's going to be okay honey" She says, "You'll see" "It is not!" I say, apparently she has no idea that that is a terrible thing to say right now. So let's see about this, I have Lou Gehrig's Disease, I lost my job, my family pretty much hates each other, my brother's a psycho path, I just found out the real reason of my existence, and my mother is clearly very disappointed in me, but despite all that, it's all good. I guess the whole process of making reservations takes a whole lot shorter then I realize, or maybe Drago Centro's is much faster to take reservations than I remember. My mom is instantly in my room. "We have reservations for 12:00" She tells me. "Maybe it's best that you stay the night" I think if anything I deserve to stay the night, after getting diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease for gods sake. "Fine" I say staring at the blank ceiling. "I'll let Ted know" "Fine" I say again. There is really nothing else to say.
I guess I must have fallen asleep and I must have slept pretty darn well, because the next thing I know my mother knocks at the door and let's herself in, which in my own expert opinion totally defeats the whole purpose of knocking.
"Wake up Brookie's and Cream" She says, using the annoying nickname on me, the nickname she's been using on me since I was six and probably for even longer than that. I groan.
"Really Mom?" I ask. My mother's face is my alarm clock that morning, as she stands right beside my bed.
"C'mon Brookie's and Cream" She says tagging on the super annoying nickname, the one that I never liked. "It's a brand new day, full of so many brand new opportunities" I yawn widely, "Mom it's only" "11:00" She says, "You've gotten your well worth of beauty sleep, no time to waste" She pulls the covers from my bed. 'Wow' I think to myself, 'Have I really slept that late' usually I don't let myself sleep that late.
"Get into your nicest cloths" My mother says throwing me my black dress from Candy herself. "We want to make a good impression on Candy don't we?" She asks. I groan inwardly. I have somehow forgotten that Candy was part of the deal. I have somehow forgotten how much it means to my mother that I got my stupid job back. The glaring light shows through my window.
"Fine!" I say grudgingly, yanking the dress away from her. "My Goodness Brookies and Cream, be careful with that, it's a really nice dress, you don't want it to get a tear. I roll my eyes.
"Be polite to Candy" She says, "In fact be on your best manners. Act like your at a job interview" "For craps sake Mom" I say, "It's not like I'm interviewing with some completely new person, Candy knows me perfectly well. I'm not trying to make an impression on anybody" "Well aren't we cranky?" She asks rhetorically folding her arms tightly across her chest.
"Not to worry" She says, handing me the paper to go cup that has been resting on the top of my dresser. "I went through the liberty of making you a breve" 'Liberty my ass' I think bitterly to myself as I roll over to my side. My mother made me a Breve, every morning before I went to school ever since I developed a taste for coffee, before that it was always steamers. Princessy? Yes maybe a little.
Well okay maybe a lot, but I am my parents little Princess. I put on the fancy black dress she has picked out for me, and she helps me with the little buttons, which I clearly cannot handle by myself with my useless right hand. I guess my mother is sort of accepting my disease, she knows that I am unable to perform day to day tasks like buttoning my dress but on the other hand, she still has ridiculously high expectations for me.
She then takes the hair brush from my night stand and begins running it through my soft blonde hair. It makes me sad, and I can tell it makes her sad as well as I notice her eyes fill with tears. She goes even more over board with the whole thing when she brushes my teeth for me, and apply's all my make up. Realistically however, I can't do any of that stuff myself. What is unrealistic is that she expects me to still be able to model and probably still be able to actively participate in gymnastics and ultimate frisbee and all that, she hasn't come out and said any of that, but I am terrified to ask.
We say nothing in the car, which is fine by me. I suppose Mom must be holding off our big conversation for the restaurant. I take it as an opportunity to listen to Sunday Lane on my Ipod. We pull in front of the agency in what seems like hours.
"C'mon Brooke" My mother says opening the door for me. I do not feel like getting out of the car.
"Brooke sweetie for God's sake, we're here!" "I'm not going to get my job back"
"Just watch me" She says unbuckling my seat belt, making me feel all the more helpless. I roll my eyes.
"C'mon Brooke" She begs, "It's all I can do to make up for last nights little atrocity, which really isn't fair seeing you were just as much a part of it as me, but nevertheless, we're going to get you your job back. I can't possibly tell my mother that I don't want it back. After all here she is going through all the trouble. As we walk into the building I try to make myself as invisible as possible, which is actually very easy for me, considering the amount of weight I've lost due to ALS. The one who I am worried about is my mother, Wendy just has a huge larger then life presence to her. When Wendy Shy enters a room, it is never something to go unnoticed. Thankfully the girls are too busy with a photo shot to notice us. Thank God! Unfortunately our invisibility does not last. As my mother calls attention to herself.
"Is Candice Collette Here?" She asks, "Can I please speak with a Candice Collette?" I am so embarrassed, I stand behind my mother making my self look all the more invisible. Girls are staring, hopefully they do not see me, and if they do they will not associate me with Wendy.
"Candy's in her office" One of the girls says. My mother suddenly gets the sense of being followed. "Brooke sweetie" She says,
"Stop trudging behind me, that is not the way you're supposed to walk with people" I'd never heard that as a rule, but let me tell you something now I have gotten the girls full attention. If they hadn't known I was here before, they sure as hell know it now.
"Thanks a lot Mom" I moan under my breath. "For crying out loud Brooke" She says. "And get that pouty look off your face. Smile" She can't seriously expect me to smile can she? There is nothing in the wold, I feel less like doing than smiling. I give the best fake smile that I can give. "That's my girl" My mom says petting me on the head like some kind of animal. We make our way up to Candy's Office. Wendy pounds very hard on the door. "C'mon in" Candy says. She is doing some paper work, and I can tell that she is pretty darn busy.
"Hello Candice Collette" My mother says. "I'm Brooke's mother Wendy Shy" She holds out her hand. Candy shakes it reluctantly. "Please call me Candy" She says. I can tell she is intimidated. I stand beside my mother staring helplessly at the ground. "What's this I hear about you firing my daughter?" Candy begins licking an envelope and sealing it tight. "Let's look as this as more letting her go" She says, "She couldn't do any of the work, her balance was off, her gait was unsteady, she was breaking a lot of things" "Would it make any difference if I told you my daughter has a serious medical condition?" My mom asks.
"No, I uh didn't know" Candy says, "She did give us all quite a scare when she was helicoptered to the emergency room" "She has Lou Gehrig's Disease" My mom says as if it's the most obvious thing ever. "Oh good heavens" Candy says, "Brooke I'm so sorry" My mother folds her arms across her chest looking very smug.
"Now who's sorry about firing my daughters ass?" "I really am sorry Wendy" Candy says, "But if she can't do the work, then it's best we let her go" "Brooke's been modeling since she was in middle school" My mother tells her. "You can't fire her, as a matter a fact you did not fire her, nor did you let her go? Do you know why?" Candy stares blankly at us blinking her eyes. "It's because she quits god damnit, she fucking quits" "Huh?" I ask, it really takes me by surprise seeing I have had no intention of quitting.
"You see, Brooke does not get fired. Nobody fires my daughter. If anything doesn't work out for her, then she should be the one to decide not you. My mouth opens but it is too dry for any words to come out. I have always thought that my mother hated quitting. I suppose she hates being fired even more though.
"There are some part time model jobs" Candy suggests, "These jobs are way less strenuous, there are also back up jobs, maybe she could fill in for another model" "My daughter will do no such thing. Please give her, her old job back. Modeling means the world to my daughter" That is news to me. "You can make accommodations for her can't you?" Candy opens her mouth.
"Brooke sweetie" She says, "Why don't you wait outside, I think it's going to get a bit ugly now" "Fine okay" I say as I clumsily shift my feet into the hallway. Now I know the girls are whispering. "Brooke oh my god" The Black/Asian/Costa Rican girl says, I think her name is China, that sounds like it can go either way.
"You're okay! Are you all right?" "No" I say shaking my head. "No?" Another model asks me. "Oh my god what happened?" Another asks. Before I can answer any of the questions, my mother steps back out of the office. "You got your job back" She tells me. "You will start again on the 2nd of January, isn't that great news" I give her a sad smile, but a smile never the less. "The best" I say. "Let's go out and celebrate" She says, even though we were planing on going for italian food no matter what. "Sure" I say apathetically.
"Thanks Mom!" She says bitterly as we pull up at Drago Centro. It's so annoying and pathetic when my mother does that. Not that I don't have a terrible habit myself of blurting out "Your forgiven" when no one apologizes right away. I do not even feel thankful, not in the slightest bit. I did not even want that job back in the first place. I don't even want to know how she got it back for me, all I know is she's very persuasive.
In middle school, Brandy really wanted to switch teams, I guess she thought the kids on the other team would treat her better then all the horrible bullies on her team. My mother went and talked to the schools administrator and it was all decided, Brandy had a brand new scheduel, it was one of the only times in the history of ever that she actually went to bat for Brandy, and I suppose after Brandy's response I can see why she's never done her any favors since. Right now I feel like Brandy, I really wish I had the ability to be up front about it like my sister, but I have always been a nicer and much less brave person then Brandy, besides Brandy was only 13 then and didn't know better. I am 25 years old and I do know better. I hold my tongue. Lunch already is pretty much a disaster when we start taking our orders. "We'll get two of the tortellini's with marinara sauce" My mother says.
"Anything to drink?" The waitress asks. "I'll get a glass of Bolgheri Rosso Le Macchiole" I say, placing down the drink menu. "Brooke sweetie" My mom says leaning in. "Do you really think that's a good idea"
"Sure!" I say, "It's 5:00 somewhere in the world right now isn't it?" My mom rolls her eyes. "I meant with your you know what."
I don't see why she doesn't just come out and say Lou Gehrig's disease. She's probably trying to protect one of us's dignity, although right now I'm not really sure who's dignity she's trying to protect. I've already lost all of my dignity today when we went to speak with Candy. Most likely her own, although she had no problem saying it out loud to candy. She is so arbitrary when she wants to be.
"Do you really think you should have alcohol with your condition?" She asks. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?" I ask. "Alcohol is very bad for your ballance and your ahem, condition is already affecting your ballance." "Oh I see" I say, "Alcohol is very brain damaging and I'm already brain damaged enough"
"That's not what I said" My mother says sharply. "For heavens sake Brooke, stop putting words into my mouth." It takes me by surprise to see that the waitress is still there, and that the conversation hasn't seemed to even register to her. "What can I get for you ma'am?" She asks my mother. "We'll both get water" She says. "My daughter doesn't do alcohol"
Unfortunately when the food arrives I can no longer contain myself. "I don't want my stupid job back!" I say, stirring the perfectly sauced tortellini with the perfect amount of marninera, sprinkled delicately with parmesan cheese around with my fork totally mutilating it's beautiful presentation. My mothers eyes widen as she sets down her fork, I get the feeling she was ready to throw that thing, but we are at a fancy restaurant after all. "What did you just say?" She asks, the tone of her voice is very bitter. "Well you heard me" I say evenly, continuing to stir my food around the plate. "I did hear you" My mother says,
"But just to make sure, could you repeat that?" I drop my fork. "I said I don't want my stupid job back" I mumble to the floor. "Can't hear you" My mother says dramatically putting her hand to her ear. "You need to speak up and for gods sake, look at me when you're talking" I place my hands to my chin.
"Elbows" She says. Sharply. I realize that she is a matter a fact right, I do have my elbows on the table. I place my hands in my lap. "I said" I say looking her right in the eye. "I don't want my stupid job back" "Well" My mother says, "I just worked my ass off getting it back for you, I don't think you realize how hard it was for me, how much coaxing I had to do. Is this what I get back? You can be so ungrateful sometimes Brooke Veronica" "Well I'm sorry" I say. What else do you want me to thank you for? Do you want me to thank you for giving birth to me?"
"My God Brooke" She says putting her hands to her temples, "Please don't do this" "Because I sure as hell am not going to thank you for that, as a matter a fact. You shouldn't have given birth to me" "Oh my god Brooke" My mother says again. "Enough with all the dramatics. You don't mean it. You're just sad" "Yeah" I say huffily. "I am sad. As you admitted yourself last night I'm Brock 2.0, are you planning on disowning me too?" I didn't mean to say it, it totally just slipped out. My mothers hand meets my face. I can not believe it. She slapped me the same way she had my brother. "Don't you ever speak to me like that" She says. Apparently she doesn't want to hear about Brock, even though that was the whole reason for our little luncheon. "Why don't you walk yourself home, it's not too far" "That's a little abusive don't you think?" I ask. "The way you just talked to me was abusive." My mother shoots back. "I'm sorry mom" I say. Once again I feel like crying but can't. "I'm sorry too sweetie" She says. We finish our lunch in complete silence.