Chapter 42

As days went by, depression became a part of Brooke's life. She wasn't sleeping and had already lost 6 pounds. Her skin was dry and her eyes had lost their glint, and she had deep dark circles beneath them. She kept crying all the time.

Brooke never had eating disorders, not even when she was a model. She enjoyed food a lot, whether making or eating it. But this time, she wasn't able to eat. She felt nauseous all day. When the clock marked the hours when Jack usually called her, or the time she used to go to the airport to catch her flight, a heavy anxiety attack undertook her. Her mind kept running wild as she kept wondering what he'd be doing at the moment. She was an emotional disgrace.

At work, she had become an unbearable bitch. She was rude and scathing. Before, when she had to make reviews or give opinions about new collections, fashion shows, designers, models or trends, she always tried to see the positive side of it. But now, she was being brutally honest and even mean. She had already ruined more than one self-esteem. Her editorials were vicious and her well earned world-fame for yelling at people never was so true. Sometimes she just wanted to shoot herself.

She hadn't seen or spoken to her parents and Terry. She just couldn't, because she knew she'd had to tell them what'd happened. She didn't want to pronounce it, because the second she said "Jack and I broke up", it'd be true. They've left zillion messages on her machine and with her assistant at work, telling her they were worried, but she hadn't returned any of their calls.

Nights had become the worst part of her day, to the point she now felt frightened of going home. There she had no one to yell at, nothing to keep her mind busy. She tried watching TV, but every time she found herself numb, her gaze lost and thinking, just thinking of him. She wished she could turn her thoughts off.

Then she tried to catch some sleep, but it always turned into a very bad idea. Lying on her bed was when she missed him the most. All she could think of were his hands, his intense eyes, the warmth of his body… Soon after she remembered his touch and his kisses, and the way he made love to her. Then she burst into tears and started feeling physical pain.

When exhaustion made her sleep, she found herself waking up in the middle of the night. Terrible nightmares were haunting her, which didn't make any sense. Other times she only dreamt of him. Some others anxiety made her awake. She opened her eyes in panic, thinking he might be seeing someone else or that he'd soon fall in love with another woman who was worth it, a woman good enough for him. The picture of him making love to another woman made her stomach convulse. She had to run to the bathroom and throw up. And that's how she started and ended her days: puking like a pregnant teenage girl.

And then came the first weekend with no trip to L.A. Now what the hell was she going to do with her weekends? She didn't want to see her friends. She thanked God that Ilana was still on her honeymoon.

She felt like dying. She was pretty fucked up. All of the sudden, her ideas about happiness being a warm gun didn't suit her anymore. Jack was right after all: sometimes you just can't be happy, even though you want to.

Jack, on the other hand, wasn't having the time of his life either. He felt annoyed all the time. He knew he was the big headline at the hospital's water cooler, especially after the fight he had with Patrick. They were not talking anymore, and therefore, his relationship with Derek and Varya had turned tricky. Marion was the only one able to handle him, 'cause she thought she understood what he was going through.

But the truth was nobody had the slightest idea. The pain of giving up on Brooke was so intense, he found it surprising. He never thought he could feel that kind of love for anybody after Kate died. He missed her like hell. Even though he was spending more time with his kids to avoid thinking of her, he just felt empty. Not even the witty remarks of Brett and the sweetness of Jackie were able to pull a smile out of him. Sorrow was back in his eyes.

At first he felt furious, but little by little he started thinking he was doomed. It seemed he would die alone after all. He kept replaying in his head what Brooke had told him the last time, and what he'd told her back. She wanted his soul, and now he was convinced he didn't have one. Yet she had given him hers, and he'd had it. But now he'd chosen to give it up and just throw it away. But if that's what he thought was best, then why he felt so miserable? He knew she had it all wrong. He was the one not worth of her.

What he regretted the most was never telling her he loved her. Now he was certain he did. She made him believe in love again, and feel it. Maybe it had been better that way, he thought. If she believed he didn't love her, she would be able to forget him faster.

But the second he thought of her forgetting him, jealousy filled his heart. He pictured her with Patrick, or maybe with Marty or some of her dad's brilliant and young lawyers, or even her ex boyfriend Ryan. She could have any guy she wanted. The idea of another man sleeping with her and touching her beautiful body or caressing her silky hair drove him nuts. He didn't want anybody to touch her ever again, she was his and only his. No, she wasn't his anymore, he had set her free.

He found himself sleeping alone again. Not that Brooke spent every night with him, but they always had a new weekend to come. And in the middle while, the picture of her and the expectation of meeting her filled his bed. It was like having her beside him all the time.

Friday without her arrived. He had not put a foot in the apartment since that fatidic day, but this time he felt the urge to go. Once he opened the door, her absence became overwhelming. The flowers she'd put in the vases had withered. There were no more tasty things in the fridge or the stove, just some groceries that were beginning to rotten.

She left behind some papers and fashion magazines on the coffee table. He glanced at them and realized now he couldn't see a cloth or a shoe without thinking of her. He cast a short wry smile. It was ridiculous.

Then he walked to the bedroom and saw the frame with their picture staring at him. A bitter-sweet feeling crossed him. He opened the closet and saw she had taken away the clothes she had placed there little by little, because she was trying to pack less every time she came.

He opened the drawers of the dressing table and found one of her sweaters. She remembered it well. It was the one she was wearing the first time the walked to the park, holding hands. She looked hell sexy in it, he recalled. He breathed on him and it still smelled of her. He felt his eyes watering. He sighed deeply and went to the bed. He laid against his back. He could feel her scent all over the sheets. He thought at that moment he would give his kingdom for having her on that bed one last time.

He covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath. He couldn't take it anymore. He went to the kitchen and took a bottle of wine that was left from their Christmas dinner. He opened it and went back to the bedroom. Then he started drinking, trying to drown his misery with every sip. He drank it all in less than 15 minutes. He got totally wasted. Soon after he fell asleep, but still a tear fell off his eyes and rolled over the pillow.

Ilana and Lance came back from their honeymoon. On Monday, when Ilana arrived to the office, she immediately went to see Brooke, to tell her everything about the trip and the places she'd visited. But she soon learnt form Irene and Samara, Brooke's assistant, she hadn't gone to work since Thursday, when she called in sick. Ilana found it absolutely awkward. Brooke never called in sick, in fact, she never got sick at all. Then Samara complaint and told her everything about Brooke's bitching and the witch she had become. I think she's mad because the doctor hasn't called her, Samara ventured to say. Ilana frowned and nodded. Something was going on. She went to her office and called Claudia, and then Melissa. They both agreed on the same thing: Brooke was definitely having trouble with Jack. They didn't know anything else, 'cause Brooke wasn't taking or returning any of their calls, but they knew for a fact she hadn't gone to Los Angeles neither on Friday, nor the weekend before.

Ilana wanted to go see her immediately, but there were a couple of pending things she had to resolve and couldn't wait any longer. Yet, at lunch time, she rushed to Brooke's place. She had her door combination, so she used it to get in. All the drapes were closed, darkening the apartment. As Ilana walked to Brooke's room, she noticed the place was a mess. Whilst she wandered the living room looking for her, she could hear the stereo playing a song.

Your eyes, they send me to eternity, your heart may cast me down to hell, I'm down… – Brooke? – But lately it's your love, it's condemnation enough… – Brookie, where are you? – Identify, please identify, if it's me you want standing by your side…

Ilana kept looking for her, concern growing inside her and thinking that was one damn sad song. – Honey come on, talk to me… – Identify these tears of mine, am I lonely or am I just alive?

Only time decide who and why will stand its test of love… – Brooke? – Your hands were speaking, no? I felt the movement go… The ice was breaking so… I wonder why did I identify with you my life? To leave me empty and see if I'd survive?

Then Ilana rushed to the bedroom. She found Brooke lying on her bed, embracing a pillow, motionless. For every questioned hour… For every second devoured, you let me wonder you into a myth that I miss…

Ilana went to the side of the bed and squatted, seeking for Brooke's face between her long messy hair. – Brooke? Are you asleep? –she asked softly. Identify, please identify, if it's me you want standing by your side… Identify these tears of mine, am I lonely or am I just alive? Am I lonely or am I just alive?

Ilana lost her patience and finally jolted her. – Brooke!

Then Brooke opened her eyes and raised, startled. She stared at Ilana, abashed. – Hey… –she finally uttered.

– Sweetie, are you okay? –Ilana asked worried. She never thought she'd see the day, but at that moment, Brooke really looked like hell.

– How was your honeymoon? –Brooke asked, incoherent, whilst Ilana turned off the stereo, which had already begun playing the same song. Then she opened the drapes and went to the bed, sitting in front of Brooke.

– We're not talking about that now. –she affirmed with a set look.

Brooke just fell apart. – He dumped me. –she announced sobbing, tears running wild through her face.

– Oh God, Brooke… I knew it. I knew it the minute you arrived without him to my wedding. How could I believe everything was fine? Why you didn't tell me the truth?

– I didn't want to ruin your big day.

– Honey but you should've told me. I haven't been here for you. –Ilana affirmed distorted. – What happened?

– He doesn't love me Ilana. He lied to me. And when I asked him to tell me everything and to let me into his life, he broke up with me. –Brooke stated, sobbing louder.

Ilana closed her eyes and breathed deeply, shaking her head. She just couldn't believe it. Jack didn't seem to be that kind of man. That was not what his eyes showed. She thought of zillion reasons to justify his behavior. She wanted to tell Brooke she knew he loved her, that she was certain about it. But it wasn't the right time to try to explain the unexplainable. – Brooke I'm so sorry. I hate to see you like this.

– I miss him so much. And he hadn't called me once, not even by mistake. He just doesn't give a fuck. What do I do now? How I kill what I feel for him?

­­– Sweetie, just give it some time. You know things will settle down and you'll start feeling better soon.

– No Ilana, I can't. This time it's different. I just want to die. I feel like shit. The pain I feel is too much. I'm so scared… –she affirmed frantic.

– I know honey, but it'll pass. But you know you must help yourself. You can't just stay here, locked down in the dark, listening to sad songs, not talking or seeing anybody. That's not the way you'll move on.

– I don't want to move on. I want him. Why am I not enough? Why he can't love me?

– Don't say that. There's no way you can know what he's thinking, so just drop it.

– His wife, she… I'm sure she was flawless. I think his little girl resembles her. And his mom, she must be a very refined lady. Maybe I'm just too East Coast for their taste and…

But Ilana cut her off. Brooke was talking insanity. – Brooke, stop.

Brooke stared at her friend and burst into tears again. – I think I'm losing my mind.

– No Brooke, you're not. You're just very depressed, that's all. I totally get you…

But she gripped Ilana's shoulders and affirmed: – I mean it…

Ilana swallowed, seeing the determination in her eyes. – Why you say that?

– It's true. I'm hearing things. –Ilana shuddered as Brooke spoke. – I hear this… voice whispering in my ears. At first it was just calling my name. But now it keeps telling me "Don't give up, don't give up". And it gets louder every day. You know I don't believe in that shit, at first I thought it was just my nerves. But now I'm having these dreams… –Brooke assured with fear in her gaze.

– What dreams?

Brooke sighed deeply and closed her eyes. Then her gaze got lost in the horizon. – I wake up and I'm lying on a beach. Then a wave comes and soaks me up. I have sand all over my body. I'm wearing a white dress and the water makes it heavy and sticky. My hair is totally damped. And the sun is so bright, it blinds me. Then, in the distance, I see someone by the sea, facing backwards. And I try to approach, but I can't. I can't see right. Everything's so blurry…

Ilana was about to speak, but Brooke went on, like she was in some kind of trance. – But last night I finally reached her… I got to stand beside her. And she asked me "Are you her?" She didn't say my name, but I knew she was referring to me… I nodded and then she stared at me intently. It was like she was trying to see my soul… And she was so sad… She had the saddest look I've ever seen…Then she told me "Don't give up. You have to hold on". But the second I tried to talk to her and ask her who's she, I woke up… –Brooke stated, meeting Ilana's eyes. – But now I can't remember her face! –she said frantic and desperate. – I just can't remember how she looked like! Isn't it weird? I'm going insane… I'm so scared… –she affirmed sobbing again and covering her face with her hands.

Ilana held her close, her eyes watering. – Brookie, you're not going insane. You're just anxious. That's why you're having those dreams. It's just the anguish you're feeling trying to get out of your system.

– Why I can't remember her face? –she asked frantic.

Ilana shook her head. – Honey those things happen, it's a dream.

– Who is she Ilana?

Ilana let go off her and looked at her eyes, concerned. – Maybe it's just yourself. It's your subconscious talking to you honey, telling the things you need to hear: "Don't give up, you have to hold on", you see? –Brooke nodded and wiped her tears. Yet she knew Ilana was wrong. – Now sweetie, you need to get out of here, come on.

And then she made Brooke take a shower and get dressed to leave the apartment.