Amazing, Because It Is.

"You and I are past our dancing days." - William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet.

“Where are you going?” Alex inquired in a blasé, seemingly uninterested tone, making a face as I put on lip gloss in the mirror. He saw it as “a sticky hindrance that he sure as hell didn’t want smeared all over his gob.” Of course, we weren’t exactly on kissing terms, so what difference did it make to him?

“Out to dinner with my dad,” I answered, indulging in no amusement from his aghast expression. “I tried to tell you earlier,” I clarified, noticing next look was somewhat wounded. We usually watched cheesy Japanese horror movies together on Thursday nights such as this one. Yes, I planned my schedule around a ghost. The perks to having little to no friends – me – and being literally invisible – him? Lots of free time.

“Must have missed it,” he replied shortly, and upon further inspection, I found him to be clenching his jaw quite harshly. Not asking a thousand questions had to be killing him – no pun intended.

“I’ll see you later,” I sighed heavily, attempting to expel some of the more grievous feelings I was burdened with. Having made Alex my personal confidant was really stinging now that we were on such awkward terms. I had no one to talk to. I was alone – again. Was it destined to be this way? Was it fated for me to always feel like this?

“Hey, Brooke,” he called tentatively after me as my fingertips met the cool metal of my doorknob. I turned immediately. He judged me correctly to be listening and continued. “Do you think we can talk when you get home? I think we…need to.”

My chest clutched, practically choking me. Nervousness immediately stole all other emotion. We ‘needed to’? What was it that he had to say? I wondered if I even wanted to hear it. If I said no, would he tell me anyway? Ignorance is bliss. Maybe I wanted a little bliss, for just this once.

“Sure…,” I trailed off, biting my lip in blatant uncertainty. Could I even sit through an awkward dinner with my father, knowing that there was something Alex had to say to me? Not comfortably, that was for sure. “I –

“Brooklyn!” my father harkened from the foot of the stairs, jingling his keys absentmindedly like he always had when we would stand in line for ice cream every Friday after school. He’d peruse the list for five minutes, and always pick the same thing anyway – chocolate. “You ready?”

“I’ll see you then,” I sighed, losing grasp of whatever it had been my mouth was about to let me say. I considered it, and decided that it was probably a good thing.

- - -

I can, with much assuredness, classify dinner as unbearable. As we perused appetizers, not speaking, not knowing how to speak, mute, my mind buzzed like hornets with thoughts of Alex. Worries, mostly.

“Brooke…I know I’ve been working a lot recently,” my dad began, folding his hands gingerly atop the expensive tablecloth. He would pick the most expensive restaurant in town. I noted the Rolex that glinted ostentatiously on his wrist. That was new. “But I swear to you, it’s nothing personal.”

I was taken aback enough that it pulled me momentarily from my thoughts of Alex.

Momentarily, of course, being the key word.

“I feel like you’re old enough to hear this, so I’m going to be straight up with you,” he said, in what would’ve been a decided way, had he not been apparently still convincing himself that he was doing the right thing. I could read the apprehension on his face, plain as day. “Your mother and I aren’t getting along anymore. Losing Jeremy tore us apart, and I’m pretty sure we’re not going to be okay anytime soon. Your mother and I want you to finish out high-school here, so neither of us are moving out. We don’t want you to have to choose. Just know that this has nothing to do with you, okay? We both still love you, just…not each other.”

So he brought me here not only to congratulate me for good grades, not only to celebrate my dead older brother’s eighteenth birthday, but to break to me the news of my parent’s divorce in the most cliché, god-awful way possible?

What the hell is the point? Is anything ever good? Why can’t things just go right for once?

“If you need to talk to anyone, Brooklyn, I’m here. I know all of this has to be hard on you. It’s a lot to deal with, and I’m sorry. You know, it’s okay to talk about Jeremy. Sometimes that helps.”

I snapped, like a rubber band stretched too far.

“I don’t want to talk about anything with you. If you think this is just hard for me, you’ve got your head up your ass. If you want to tell me to talk about my feelings, why don’t you take your own advice? You and Mom haven’t spoken to each other since Jeremy died. No wonder you couldn’t work things out – you didn’t even try! Really, Dad, I hope you know that the only thing that’s keeping me from offing myself is that I know neither you nor mom could stand to lose both of us.”

They aren’t the only thing, I subconsciously corrected, instantly. Alex was an even bigger factor.

But why? Why was he what kept me clinging to the edge of this cliff?

- - -

“Hey,” I sighed, dropping my purse by the door as I shut it soundly, trying to muffle the sounds of my dad preparing himself a drink. So now he was an alcoholic, a workaholic, a soon-to-be divorcee, a flaunter of wealth, a member of the ‘parents who have lost children club’, and a non-present father to the remaining child. I did not know him anymore.

“How was it?” Alex asked, quite apparently only exchanging pleasantries based on manners. I could tell he was itching to say whatever it was he had been practicing ever since I’d left.

“My parents are getting a divorce,” I sighed, sinking down onto my mattress. I should’ve been upset, should’ve been crying, should’ve been reacting, but yet again no strong emotions came. I was simply tired. Of life, in and of itself.

“I’m sorry,” he replied automatically, reflexively, although I could tell by his eyes that he meant it. “Listen, if you don’t feel like talking tonight…I understand,” I could tell it took him a lot of will-power to say so. I almost smiled.

“No, it’s fine. Speak your peace,” I encouraged.

“I just…you know…I…wanted to talk about, you know, what happened that night,” he began sheepishly, avoiding eye-contact at all costs, even though all I needed at the moment was to see his eyes, to read them, to try and predict what was coming.

Could I take more disappointment, or could a person only hold so much?

“Okay…,” I prompted, urging him to continue. On the bright side, at least I knew it hadn’t been a dream. I had kissed Alex, and he had kissed me. It almost overshadowed anything. His lips began to move again and I tuned in.

“Well, I just…I don’t understand why you’re acting like it never happened,” he shrugged, working up towards exasperation, which promptly baffled me. I was speechless. Well, almost.

“Me?” I shouted; my volume hazardous for the proximity of my father in relation to my room. To hell with it, though. I had just proved at dinner how mentally unstable I was. “I woke up and you weren’t there. You left, Alex.”

“I just needed some time to think, okay? I’m sorry! It was a mistake! Ghosts make them too! It was a big shock, going from thinking I annoy you the most of anyone on the planet to having you maul me!” his volume steadily rose to meet mine at the summit.

“You don’t annoy me, Alex,” I clarified softly, shaking my head. “But –

“Listen, Brooke, if you don’t want this to be anything more than friendship…I’d like to say I can deal with it, but I can’t. I like you too much. I can’t be your friend.”

My heart leapt for absolute joy, my spirits soared, and my eyes started to water. So now I was crying. Now that I was so happy I couldn’t even speak to tell him how much I liked him and how stupid he was for possibly thinking I wanted to be his friend. I couldn’t even believe it. He liked me. As much as I liked him. Finally, everything was happening for me.

“Alex,” I laughed, blinking back tears. I closed my eyes to wipe away the slight moisture, so that my mascara didn’t run. “I – “

My eyelids lifted almost languorously, and he wasn’t standing in front of me anymore.

I looked around wildly. I called his name, told him to stop playing around, that it wasn’t funny. I searched my entire room. I waited for him to jump out and shout about how he’d gotten me, and how terrified I’d looked.

And then I sat down in the center of my floor, pulled my knees snugly to my chest and sobbed, deeply and heart wrenchingly, like someone had torn out my soul. They had.

Alex was gone.