Page 58 of Fighting the Tide
“Oh no, Mitch!”she screams as she collapses into her husband’s arms.“She can’t leave us.”
“She won’t,” he vows.“She has too much to live for.”His eyes meet mine over his wife’s head, but for some reason, I don’t think he’s talking about me.
About fifteen minutes later, the nurses leave the room and the doctor approaches her parents as the older nurse comes to me, just as she promised she would.“She’s awake,” she says with a smile on her face, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.“Are you Nolan?”
I nod as Mitch and Brenda rush into the room, then I look at the doctor standing by the door, his hand over his chest.
“What’s happening?”I ask the nurse as my heart beats against my rib cage.
“She’s been asking for you,” she tells me, her hand on my arm.“Go on in there and talk to her.”
While you have a chance.She doesn’t say it, but I hear it in her voice as I rush back into Brooke’s room and find her parents on either side of her bed, staring down at her.The tube is out of her mouth and her eyes are barely open because of the swelling, but I feel it when she looks at me.Her lips tip upward the slightest bit as my heart gallops with hope.Then her lips move as she mouths my name, her hand slowly reaching for me.
Mitch moves back as I move up beside her, taking her hand in mine and dropping to kiss her forehead.“Hi, baby,” I whisper, my voice wobbling with restrained emotion.“All you had to do was call.You didn’t need to go through all this trouble to get me to come home.I’ve always been waiting for you.”
I look down at her to find that small smile on her face as she struggles to pull in a breath.
“She needs the ventilator!”Brenda yells as she runs to the door.
Brooke’s mouth moves again, forming my name, so I lean my ear down to her mouth and nearly collapse onto the bed beside her when her hoarse whisper hits my skin.“No–lan.”
“I’m here, baby,” I tell her as I choke on a sob.“What is it?”
“Hurts… L–let… me… ju–jump.”Her words are intelligible even though she’s struggling to speak, as if she’s put what’s left of her strength into each syllable.I fall forward and press my head to her chest as she squeezes my hand, my sobs echoing around the room as the doctor comes back in, telling Brenda there’s nothing more they can do.So I do the most unselfish thing I have ever done and push myself up and lean over her face, my tears hitting her cheeks as I smile down at her and nod.
“It’s okay, baby.Go.We’ll be fine here.One day I’ll meet you again, and then you’ll be mine, Brooke Eastham.You’ll finally be mine.”
The smile that stretches along her mouth is stunningly beautiful as she takes her last breath in peace, the machines falling silent around us as her soul leaves this earth, taking mine with it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Borrowedtime.
God called her home.
Received while the angels sang.
All things the minister said at her funeral, the same things he said at my mother’s a few years ago, and all of it is fucking bullshit.Now I am once again standing in Chatham’s cemetery, watching as someone else I love is lowered into the cold ground.There are more people here this time.Whether they actually knew Brooke or they’re here for her parents, I will never know.I don’t even care.
I see many people from our high school with somber expressions on their faces.Even Kasen flew in for the service.His eyes have been wandering to Monica, who stands across from him and near Avery.None of that matters though.Honestly, nothing fucking matters anymore.
The gloominess of the day does nothing to my already drowning disposition, then add the crying of random children and adults around the gravesite and it’s a fucking shitshow.I look up to find Brooke’s parents on the other side of the coffin, Mitch with his hand around Brenda as she blows her nose into an expensive-looking piece of fabric.Behind them stands a few older ladies, one with a little girl in her arms, her face buried into her neck, and another standing solemn, her blonde hair blowing in the breeze.She must be related to Brooke because her haughty expression is pretty spot on for an Eastham.
I’ve been crashing at Avery’s house the past few days, sleeping in Darren’s old bed to avoid seeing my father.According to Carol, Avery’s mom, rumors have started up about him falling off the wagon and heavily drinking again.I wouldn’t be surprised if he was using too.I know I haven’t been the best son by not checking in on him, but to be fair, that’s just not who we are.He hasn’t picked up a phone to call me either, and I know he has my cell phone number.He’s asked Avery for it.
The only tie bonding the two of us was my mother, and that severed the day of her funeral when he admitted I ruined their lives.I can’t even hate him for that.It takes balls to look your only child in the eyes and say that you regret the day they were born.Despite everything my father and I have been through, or what he’s putmethrough, I don’t hate the man.We just never got the chance to experience the good things of being father and son, and it’s too late to correct that now.
My eyes meet Mitch’s over the lowering casket and he gives me a subtle nod, knowing we probably won’t see each other again after this.He and I had a talk at the hospital after Brooke passed and Brenda was taken back to their hotel.He let me know there was an active investigation into the accident because pills and alcohol were found in the wreckage.They were running toxicology on Brooke, even though Sean was the driver, and Mitch was worried about his family’s reputation.
Brooke’s blood was clean which surprised me because she was with Sean.No narcotics or alcohol.Sean was both high and drunk when he wrapped Brooke’s convertible around a tree.
The child in the woman’s arms, behind Brooke’s parents, cries louder, her wails crashing through my eardrums and making my head throb.I turn on my heel and begin to walk away, finding the large willow my mother is buried under in the back far corner.I can feel eyes on me as I leave, but I don’t care what any of them think.Brooke isn’t inside that casket, not that I can feel anyway.
I want to talk to my mother; I want to tell her how worried I am about who I’m becoming.I’m scared that Brooke took whatever was good inside of me the day she died, and now I am walking around as nothing more than an angry husk.I’m scared of the temper that flares just under the surface, and I fear for the fact that I no longer have a will to live.
I may look alive and well, but I am completely dead inside.
I find her gravestone, the polished surface shining under the little bit of sun that’s found its break between the gray clouds, and run my hand along the smooth stone before letting out a long, tortured sigh.“Hey, Mom.I guess you probably know why I’m here.I was never too sure what happened between you and Brooke, but if you could look out for her, I’d really appreciate it.”I sit down at her grave, pressing my back to her stone and bending my knees so I can rest my arms on top of them, then leaning my head on my forearms.“I’m feeling so lost, Mom.I can’t figure out why all of this is happening.I can’t help but think I’m just meant to live my life alone.I guess I’m more like Dad than I thought, huh?”
