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Chapter 29: Enough
" It isn't that I don't love you….its just that it hurts too damn much."-Anonymous
You would think in six weeks the memories of that night and of him would be somewhat a distant memory. Wrong. So wrong. Of course it doesn't help that Tatiana is constantly walking around flaunting that stupid ring, and as much as I tried to find a way around it I was stuck on the same stupid tour bus as the happy and perfect couple. The only plus side is that I'm not entirely alone. Margot is on the bunk across from mine, and Blake dwells in the one under me. They have been my only life lines through out this entire disaster. Well that isn't entirely true. Caleb is here too, but he's on the other bus with the other crew members, and Olivia and I swap emails daily, which helps. Actually, I suppose that I cant complain too much. It's a lot easier to avoid someone on a tour bus than you would think. Simply duck into a bathroom when you see the person your trying to avoid and your good to go. Unless the bathroom is occupied and then your just in for a really embarrassing moment. Believe me, I should know.
I roll over knowing that sleep just isn't something I'm going to find tonight. I poke my head out of my bunk and find that nobody is awake. Both Margot and Blake's curtains are tightly shut offering me no chance of refuge. I sigh swinging my legs off my bed, pulling the sweater I stole, well more like borrowed 'indefinitely' from Blake over my head. I smile softly as I walk down the hall the smell of Blake's cologne washing over me. At least in this I find some sense of comfort. I slide onto the couch at the front of the bus, pulling my knee's to my chest as I watch the night pass by through the window in a blur. As much as I have tried to forget it all, forget about everything that would have been, should have been with me and Michael, it wont seem to go away. The memories of the time spent with him at Neverland, forever at the forefront on my thoughts. Movie nights, water fights, endless mountains of popcorn. How is it possible that after all of the pain and betrayal, that I still miss him. Miss the feel of his hand in mine, or the way his laughter would send a peculiar shiver up my spine whenever I hear it?
" Hey," a soft voice says and I turn my head smiling up at Blake who smiles sleepily at me before taking a seat across from me.
" Hey," I say pulling my feet up so that he doesn't sit on them.
" Couldn't sleep?" he asks and I nod my head.
" Just couldn't shut my head off you know?" I say tapping my head with my finger.
" Yeah I know how that can be. Anything you want to talk about?" I stare at him, knowing in my heart that he's being sincere, and yet I find myself instinctively holding back.
" No, yes, I don't know." I fiddle with the chain hanging around my throat trying to steady my suddenly shaking fingers.
" Hey, you know that you can tell me anything," he offers his sleepy eyes suddenly clearing as he sits up all the way and looks into my eyes.
" I know, its just. I know that you must be getting tired of hearing about, him," I whisper, pain shooting through me.
" Ahh, so its Michael who has you awake at two in the morning. It's perfectly normal you know? To miss him, miss what you guys had," he says taking my hand in his, drawing patterns softly on my palm.
" That's just it though. We didn't have anything. I mean, he was my best friend, and sure maybe I started to feel 'that' way about him, but, its stupid for me to be feeling like this after all this time. He's obviously moved on, so why cant I?" I ask frustrated by the emotions that bubble to the surface.
" Maybe you just haven't had the closure you need," he offers and I blink at him confused by his words.
" What do you mean?" I ask staring at our hands linked together.
" You're an artist Brooke, and artists use their emotions. The good and the bad, to express what they feel. Maybe you need to do that." I stare at him for a minute, blinking owlishly. Of course, why didn't I think of that? Oh I know why, because when I think about Michael and my emotions, I get over run by the latter and all I want to do is crawl into a rather large, dark hole and spend the rest of my life there, forgetting that Michael ever existed.
" Maybe your right," I murmur shrugging my shoulders.
" I am right," he jokes, making me laugh as he pulls me next to him. I lay my head on his shoulder and smile allowing myself to finally fall into a deep sleep.
I wake slowly my eyes burning slightly from the bright light.
" Morning," a soft voice calls out to me scaring me and I sit up so quickly that my head spins. I press my palm to my forehead and look up to find Michael standing next to me, a soft smile on his face as he holds a mug and stares at me. I roll my eyes moving to slide off the couch, " Brooke, are you ever going to talk to me again?"
" I don't know, are you still engaged?" I ask trying to brush past him.
" Brooke that isn't fair," he whispers his hand gripping my arm. I stare at him, the pent up frustration, and hurt slowly burning inside of me until finally I snap.
" No, you want to know what isn't fair Michael?" I ask, pulling my arm roughly from his hold, " What isn't fair is you telling me that we cant talk anymore. That you were walking away, because you didn't want to hurt me anymore, even after I confessed that I was completely and whole heartedly in love with you. Then one day you started talking to me again, and I felt like I had a chance Michael. A chance to get back the one person that makes everything okay again. I spent hours getting ready, and like a fool I showed up at that dinner, and waited for you, only to have you show up, with her, and announce that your getting married. So you know what, I don't care if I'm not being fair. I don't. You did this Michael. Not me. You made your choice. I'm living with it, and it's about damn time that you start doing the same." The breath hitches out of me when I hear a soft whimper from over Michael's shoulder. I raise my head and see Margot, Blake, and Tatiana standing, staring at the scene before them. I look from face to face, lingering over the tears that fall steadily down Tatiana's face.
" We are done Michael. I cant. I will not do this anymore. I refuse to spend the rest of my life wishing that things could be different between us. As far as I am concerned, after today, there isn't a single word left to be spoken between us, got it? Don't ever talk to me again." I push past him, his face a picture of stunned pain as I race off the bus.
I stare in the bathroom mirror, wincing at my red rimmed and puffy eyes, the mess that is my hair, and curse that still Michael gets to me. When he looks at me I still get the butterflies, the tingles still race up my spine, and every time he opens his mouth all I can hear is him announcing that he is marrying her. Is there something about me? Am I not good enough? Is my entire life meant to spent alone. I knew love, came so close to it only to have it pulled away from me. Did I do something to deserve this feeling of complete and utter loneliness and abandonment? I grasp the sink my knuckles going white as the anger and pain overwhelms me and I let out an earsplitting scream as I punch the mirror, glass shattering as stabs of white hot pain surges through my hand and wrist.
" Brooke!" a panicked Margot calls to me through the locked door and I gasp as I watch the blood flow down my arm, staining the sink and floor below me, " Brooke, open the door, please." I don't listen to the pleading words, instead I'm completely captivated by the crimson stream running down my arm. I hardly flinch when the door crashes open, Blake and Margot cursing rabidly as they look at me.
" Brooke, what did you do?" Margot asks, cradling me in her arms as Blake strips his shirt off and wraps it tightly around my wrist. I stare at Blake, his eyes sad, and the emotion swirling in them snaps something inside of me. The burning tears start flooding down my cheeks as I sob hysterically in Margot's arms.
" It was supposed to be me," I cry, curling into a tight ball, trying anything that I can to stave off the incessant pain, " He was the only one who could make everything okay again." I close my eyes, letting Blake lift me into his arms.
" It's going to be okay Brooke," Blake murmurs as he carries me to my dressing room, pressing his lips to my head, " I promise." The thing is, what he says isn't true. It will never be okay again. How could it be?
Sixteen. Sixteen stitches is what I got from my temper tantrum. Not to mention a broken mirror that I will have to replace. I stare down at my gauze covered hand and wrist, wondering just how I'm going to cover this one up. I look up when there is a soft knock on the door and stare in surprise when I see Olivia, her eyes shining at me.
" Liv? What, how, when?" I ask rushing up out of my seat to grab her into a tight hug.
" Well, they have these amazing things now called airplanes, so I got on one of those fancy flying machines and decided to come see my best friend," Olivia jokes dryly holding me at arms length, " To be honest, Paris just wasn't for me, B. I couldn't stand most of my classmates, not to mention the fact that I missed the hell out of my best friend. And I may have heard through the grapevine that the girl I love is having a rough go of it on the road."
" Who called you? Margot? Blake? Oh God let me guess, it was Michael? See even now when things are a mess all because of him mind you, he still muddles in business that does not concern him," I rant stopping only Olivia laughs loudly and happily, " What could possibly be so funny?"
" You. It wasn't any of those people who called me Brooke," she says, sitting down on the couch while I brace myself against the counter.
" Oh well," I say taking a deep breath, " Then who did?"
" Caleb," she says nonchalantly, and I nod my head slowly. Of course leave it up to my brother to meddle, " Has it really been that bad?"
" No," I lie, and I know that she knows too, so before she can reprimand me on my lack of lying skills, " When I'm onstage, or rehearsing, or doing interviews and meeting fans, it isn't so bad. I don't have the time to think about the pain then you know? Its when everything is quiet, and its just me, and time to think, that's when it gets bad."
" Okay, Brooke, you know I love you right? So when I say this, you cant hate me," she says clasping her hands in front of her, " You are being incredibly stupid. You love Michael. I know that you do. I saw it from the very beginning. He helped heal you Brooke. Before Michael came along I was worried that you were forever going to be afraid to let other people in. You need to be happy, and Michael makes you happy. He's in love with you Brooke."
" He loves Tatiana Liv," I say sitting down next to her.
" That very well may be true, but he isn't in love with her," she says wrapping a reassuring arm around my shoulder drawing me close to her so that my head is resting on her shoulder.
" How did my life become such a mess Livy?" I whisper, closing my eyes tightly against the pain, " It wasn't supposed to be this way. The damndest part of it all is, I have no one to blame but myself."
The show went on that night, as scheduled. Despite the fire that erupted under my skin, sending throbbing pain through my arm, I played and did what I loved to do. I stare out of the window of the hotel, watching the night life go one below me. Couples walking arm in arm, college crowds racing from bar to bar. All of it so normal. Yet, I feel so disconnected from all of it. Like I'm floating somewhere above it all, away from the people, the noise. I should consider myself lucky, to have a few days in one city, instead of having to climb back onto the bus right after a show and head for the next town. I get a real bed, a bath tub the size of Texas, what more could a girl want? I continue to look down at the lights of downtown Pittsburgh and know that somewhere in the vast expanse of this city, Michael's there. With her. Dancing with a group of people, or perhaps they are taking a romantic stroll together. I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath, and turn towards the sound of someone knocking on my door.
I shuffle forward, looking through the peephole and find Olivia and Blake in the hall. I open the door slowly and smile when I see how nice they look.
" Why aren't you dressed yet?" Olivia asks, floating past me in her black mini dress and sky high stilettos.
" I'm not going," I say, closing the door behind them, bracing my back against it.
" What do you mean your not going? You have too," Blake says, brushing a hand over his dark washed jeans.
" No I don't. I don't feel like going out and being surrounded by people okay?" I snap out, running my hands through my hair, " I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, but I just, I'm not feeling social all right? I just, I want to be alone."
" Are you sure, I mean I know I look fabulous and all, but I can forego the throngs of hotties to stay in my best friend. We can order in, get some ice cream, bash boys, sorry Blake," Olivia says, brushing a hand over his shoulder, " Order movies on the T.V." I smile lightly, knowing full well that Olivia would do just that. She'd wash off her make-up, exchange her pretty party dress for pajamas and stay here with me, all I would have to do is ask her to. But I wont. I shake my head hugging her.
" No Livy, you deserve to go out, have a good time okay? I will see you guys in the morning. I'm just going to take a bubble bath, and go to sleep," I say ushering them to the door.
" You sure?" she asks turning back to look at me.
" Yeah, absolutely. And if I change my mind I'll text you okay?" I say, pushing her through the door.
" You better," she calls back to me happily as she links arms with Blake and they walk away.
I sit up gasping for air as I search the darkness of my hotel room. Damn it. Another nightmare. Well, I guess for most people it wouldn't be considered a nightmare. In fact, thinking about it, it wasn't a nightmare at all. It was the opposite, which is what made it that much more painful. I rub at the incessant ache in my chest. The longing that has tears clouding my eyes. I shake my head, leaning over to flip on the light switch, blinking wildly as I look around. It had all seemed so real. I pull my knee's to my chest as I think back over the dream. It was of Michael. All of my dreams are about him. Only this one was different than my other one's. The other dreams were like pleasant albeit heartbreaking walks down memory lane, where this one was nothing more than a look at what life would have been like for me and him had things been different. I shake my head slowly, trying to clear the dream from my head but it doesn't work. Instead Michael's big brown eyes stay implanted on my mind. I climb out of my bed and pick up my guitar, deciding to take Blake's advice. I need to use my gift to find the closure I need, and if I don't get closure out of this, then at least I get to say what I need to say.
So that's what I did, I wrote. Wrote it all out on paper, everything that I had to say, wanted to say, needed to say. It was the only way to make the pain go away.
