Page 19 of Don't Forget Me
6
NICK
Nick Jacobs, dream guy of women worldwide, had a weakness. It was an embarrassing one, a desire Stephen used to give him endless crap for.
Yet, as he puttered around the strange, isolated house in the weird not-death state by himself for the tenth consecutive day, he no longer cared.
Reaching into the pantry that never seemed to run out of food, he pulled out the box that had become his only comfort.
Lucky Charms.
Each morning was the same. He woke up, hoping this was all a dream and that he’d open his eyes to find the hospital surrounding him. Each morning he was disappointed.
And if things didn’t change, he’d lose his mind.
Splashing milk that never expired into the bowl, he carried it toward the couch where he ate every meal.
The box of Scrabble taunted him from the black stone coffee table, as if he could stare at it long enough and see his brother grinning back at him while he played some dumb four-letter word.
Stephen hadn’t been very good, but he’d loved it, loved watching Nick contort his brain to come up with the most complicated words he could, winning by a ridiculous number of points.
Crunching on a marshmallow, he sank further into the couch, watching the sunlight dance across the house as it streamed through the high windows. Back when Stephen never left his side, they’d escaped to this lake house in between every job, every movie, spending as much time here as in L.A.
Mornings had been his favorite. After eating whatever ridiculously decadent breakfast Stephen cooked, they’d hang out on the deck, Nick reading and Stephen working on the script he hoped to one day sell.
After a few hours, they hit the lake, taking the boat out to their favorite swimming spots.
Flashes of afternoons on the lake came back to him, and he dropped his spoon, making the milk splash from the bowl.
Water.
It created so much happiness.
And then, it took it all away.
Unable to eat anymore, he left his bowl on the coffee table and stood, needing some air. He had to find a way out of there, a way back to his life, to the real world.
Because none of this was real.
It couldn’t be.
He pulled open the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck, not yet warmed by the sun.
Padding on bare feet, he walked to the edge and lowered himself, hanging his feet over the side. His toes brushed the tall grasses, damp with remnants of the rain from the night before.
For the last ten days, he’d tried to see Stephen sitting here as he had that first day. It was the only thing that didn’t make him feel so alone. His brother’s lips would curve into a half grin as he told Nick to put on a shirt, that not everyone needed to see so much of him all the time.
It was the opposite of what Hollywood taught him.
He didn’t let himself look to the lake this time, knowing what those depths held. It wouldn’t do him any good.
Lying flat, he lifted his eyes to the cloudless blue sky, clear after a night of storms.
“Where are you, Stephen?”
He’d started wrapping his head around the supernatural aspect of this in-between world, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
A crash sounded from the house, and he jerked himself up, jumping to his feet. He had to be hearing things.
