"Can I help you?' a woman with a bright smile walked to Brooke. For a moment, Brooke just stared at the empty author's table. "Miss?"
"The author who was here…"
"Mr. Scott?"
"Yeah Lucas," Brooke couldn't see herself ever being able to call Lucas 'Mr. Scott'. "Is he going to come back?" Brooke didn't know if she was asking this woman about Luke's presence in the book store or in her own life.
"I'm afraid not. He's gone for good." Brooke's heart dropped to her stomach. The woman continued to yammer on about how she could recommend a few good books if Brooke enjoyed an unkindness of ravens. She was unaware that she had just dealt Brooke the kind of verbal blow that was enough to send a person knee deep into a pint of ice cream.
"No thanks," Brooke mumbled. As soon as she was out the door of the store, she saw something she wished she didn't. A flame of red hair was barreling down the sidewalk towards her.
"Brooke Penelope Davis! You didn't. After I specifically told you not to." When Rachel was enraged she tended to lose the ability to form complete sentences. Rachel skidded to a halt beside Brooke and inhaled with a flare of her nostrils. "Now tell me why." At that moment, Brooke's head fell. She stared at the cracks on the pavement. How they formed a swirling pattern. Spiraling downward, like her life had done a few years ago. A hand grabbed her chin and forced her face upwards. "Well do you have an answer?"
"Rachel can we not?" Brooke whimpered. Though she was still frustrated, Rachel could see that Brooke was hurting.
"Come on, let's go get you liquored up." Rachel flung an arm around her sullen friend and began to take her down the sidewalk. "But this is why I told you to avoid the book store."
"Rachel I know you mean the best and that all this is just tough love but can you please save the lecture for later?"
"I think I might be able to handle that, but I just want to say that I told…" Brooke silenced her with a hand covering her mouth.
"If the next words out of your mouth are 'you so', you are so dead." She removed the hand.
"I was actually going to say that I told you we'd go get you liquored up but if you'd rather go home and be with David that was fine by me." Brooke looked at the street in front of her. Happy people walked up and down the sidewalk. The whole damn world was packed with smiling faces, so why couldn't Brooke just follow the crowd and force the corners of her mouth upwards. Deep down she knew why. Lucas. It would always be Lucas. But it shouldn't be about him anymore. It couldn't be. Brooke put her arm through Rachel's.
"I think getting liquored up is exactly what I need." And with more effort than she really thought it was worth, Brooke forced the muscles of her mouth to contort into what she hoped looked like a smile.
Brooke began to giggle. For the first time in a long time, Brooke Penelope Davis was stumbling-down-the-stairs, unable-to-walk-a-straight-line, drunk. Rachel was trying to laugh it off, Brooke could be pretty funny when she was drunk, but she knew that her friend was hurting. It wasn't like her to get wasted just to have a good time. Maybe the high school Brooke but not the responsible adult Brooke. Rachel knew that she would have to keep a close eye on Brooke. It was one thing if you got drunk every weekend, and some weekdays. You could navigate a bar pretty well. But if you hadn't gotten really drunk for five years, well the world could be a pretty overwhelming not to mention harmful place.
"I love this song," Brooke slurred as she stood up, tripped over the leg of her chair a bit, stumbled, and then recovered. "Ss a lil hard to walk," she told her friend.
"That's what gallons of tequila in your stomach will do to you."
"I'm not drunk." Rachel gave her friend a glare. "Ok maybe a lil." Brooke held her thumb and pointer finger a small distance apart. With an eye roll, Rachel pushed the fingers apart as far as they would go.
"That's closer." Brooke swatted at Rachel playfully, but missed. Her reflexes weren't what they normally were.
"I'm gonna dance." Brooke turned on her heel and left Rachel to watch her from the sidelines. Rachel ordered another shot from the bartender but before he could pour it, she stayed his hand. Once more, she looked out on Brooke. Brooke was bobbing up and down to a beat that only she could hear. Rachel grimaced and told the bartender to bring her water instead.
Brooke had been dancing for what felt like hours. After a bit of time in which she mostly tried to stay vertical, Brooke had gotten the drunken dance down to a science. Bodies pressed in on her from all sides. There was one body in particular that she was pressing back on. The boy in front of her had dark hair that fell casually over his eyes. The room was still spinning but Brooke focused all her energy on the boy in front of her. She put her hands on his shoulders. The two stopped mid dance. Their eyes locked and Brooke felt herself leaning towards him. But before their lips met, she was pulled back.
"What are you doing?" a voice demanded. Blinking a few times, Brooke finally made out the red hair that framed her friend's face.
"Rachel!" A smile formed on Brooke's lips as she reached out to the redhead. Rachel reeled back a bit as she smelled the strong odor of alcohol on Brooke's breath. "Come dance with me." She began to pull on Rachel's hands, but the boy broke in.
"I thought we were dancing together," he demanded.
"W…" Brooke started to slur, but Rachel took over.
"For your information the only reason she even gave you the time of day was because she is drunk out of her mind. And besides, nothing could happen between the two of you."
"You don't…" the boy protested.
"I do," Rachel corrected him as she swung Brooke's arm around her shoulders. "She's not available."
"You're seeing someone?" he directed to Brooke.
"I…"
"Not exactly. Look it doesn't matter I need to get her out of here, so kindly move."
"No, if she's not seeing anyone then I don't see the harm in the two of us flirting a little." He touched Brooke's cheek gently and she beamed up at him.
"Yeah Rach, what's the harm?" Brooke asked, still smiling.
"Flirting?! You call dry humping each other, flirting?"
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Jealous? Because we can make this a three way affair if you'd prefer." He gave a wink which warranted an eye roll from Rachel. Normally Rachel would jump at the chance to have sex, but tonight she had to play the role of the dependable one.
"A ménage a trois? I think not." Rachel pushed him aside as she half carried, half drug Brooke out of the bar.
"Oooh French! Let's see what I remember. Potato, potahto, no that's not right. It's something about an apple," Brooke rambled drunkenly as Rachel hailed a taxi.
Rachel was sitting with Brooke in her own bathroom as Brooke's past couple of meals made their reappearance into the toilet. Brooke stopped heaving for the time being and Rachel dutifully poured some water into her friend's mouth. Brooke gave a half-hearted smile and proceeded to pass out in Rachel's lap. Absentmindedly, Rachel began to run her hand over Brooke's hair. She watched her friend inhale and exhale deeply. Rachel had been scared tonight. Not just because she was afraid that her friend might die of alcohol poisoning, for that had only been an imminent fear when Brooke consumed what seemed to be her twentieth shot in ten minutes, but also because it scared her to see Brooke this way. Brooke was never the vulnerable one. She had built armor around herself, assuring that if any hurt was to be dealt out she would be the dealer and would receive none. Nothing got to Brooke. She took everything in stride letting it all roll off her back.
"Why did you do this Brooke? You're supposed to be the one taking care of me when I'm drunk. That's how this friendship works. God help us if I begin to be the stable one here." Rachel continued stroking Brooke's hair. "You're not supposed to be the one spouting drunken things that's supposed to be me. I'm supposed to show up on your shoots drunk out of mind complaining about how much life sucks. And then you're supposed to hold all your calls while you let me cry on your shoulder." A tear rolled from Rachel's eye. She'd learned a long time ago that you can't rely on supposed to's. She was supposed to finally graduate from a high school. Brooke was supposed to be married to Lucas right now with a happy little baby. The tears spilled a bit more.
"Pomme de terre," Brooke mumbled.
"What?"
"Earlier, I couldn't remember how to say potato in French. It's pomme de terre." Rachel laughed.
"Is that the only thing you remember from French class?" Brooke shook her head.
"Coeur brisé."
"What's that mean?" There was no response. Rachel looked down at her friend. Brooke had passed out, her face pressed into the tile. In that moment she looked so peaceful that Rachel didn't want to disturb her. She wanted to let her lie there, away from all the hurt in the world. But Rachel knew that in the morning, Brooke would chastise her for allowing the tile to imprint its octagonal shape onto one of Brooke's cheeks. So with a sigh, Rachel heaved her friend up and made a mental note that being the sober one sucks.
Fifteen minutes later with Brooke securely placed lying on her side in Rachel's bed, a trash can within arms reach, Rachel was sitting at her computer. She clicked on the 'Language Tools' button of Google. Curious, she typed in the phrase Brooke had garbled earlier. After a moment the page loaded and Rachel had her answer. Why had Brooke gotten drunk? Coeur brisé. Broken heart.