Title: Going Through the Motions

Author: Megan

Email: shy_grrl@hotmail.com

Part 6

I wake up with a fierce headache. I wake up because of the fierce headache. I wake up and the first thing I see is Sam staring intently at me. I'm lying in my bed on my left side, and she's sitting in my chair right in front of me. She sees the exact moment I wake up, the exact moment I open my eyes. And she smiles. I don't smile back. She doesn't expect me to.

Instead I try to remember what it was that put me in here. A big mistake. The memory shoots through my mind in such a massive pain wave that I wince in agony.

"Oh hey, do I look that bad?", Sam tries to kid her way onto my good side again. And fails again. I'm not that big on jokes.

I roll onto my back and press my right hand on my forehead, "I have a killer headache."

"Figured that much. You also have a killer bump a little to the left", Sam says, and I move my hand and feel it out. It isn't that big, there's a sore spot but I'd hardly call it a bump, "There's some pills and water on the night table."

Thank you Sam. I sit up with a groan and pick up the three pills on the table, "Didn't dare to leave the whole jar in case I'd gulp them all?", I say and drown the pills with some water.

"You need more?", she says not the least bit hurt. Why is she so calm?

I shake my head and turn to look at her again. She's still staring straight at me. Straight into me. And the thought I tried to bury, the thought my aunt planted, surfaces again. The thought of Sam loving me.. why is it so hard to believe it?

"What happened?", Sam asks all of a sudden.

I shrug and turn away, "I fainted. It was really hot today. And I guess I laid in the sun too long", good lie Brookie. She'll fall for that one for sure.

"Riiiight.. funny thing that sun. Never know when you've had enough", she says, and I nod.

Maybe it's because of our history. How can I believe her when she's spent the last six months hating me, fighting with me? But then there's that old saying, it's a thin line between love and hate. Of course that is always used in reference to... romantic... love...

Slowly I turn back and still she's drilling a hole into my head with those brown eyes. It can't be so. I must've really hit my head hard. It can't be so, "Saaam...?", I drag the name too long.

"What?", she asks. And for the first time since I woke up she looses her cool. For the first time she can't see what I'm aiming at. I stare at her my mouth open. It can't be so, "What Brooke?", she's getting impatient. Even worried, "Are you all right? Does it hurt somewhere else?", she says and stands up.

I still don't get a word out. All these moments from the past, our past, are parading around in my head. And I look for a hidden meaning behind every word Sam has ever said to me, behind her every action. There were those millions of times I caught her staring at me. I always figured it was just... just what? Her looks were never hateful, well sometimes they were, but not every time. Sometimes they were just curious. And intense. Always intense.

Sam's hand lands on my face and distracts my thoughts. She's feeling out the bump, "Brooke? Say something. Are you all right?"

I jerk back my head and Sam immediately does the same to her hand, "Yeah. Never better", I say returning my eyes to her. Sam's feeling uncomfortable, squirming about, and finally she takes a couple of steps backwards. Oh god, what if it is so?

"Are you sure?", the tension keeps on rising.

I nod, "How long was I out anyway?", maybe if we do the inane conversation thing, thing's will easy up.

"About three hours", Sam says, "Maybe we should go see a doctor, you know just in case?"

We?, "We?", okay what's that about?

Sam frowns, "Yeah. We, as in you and me", she says, "It's a pronoun."

"So it is", I force a smirk on my face, it is after all expected, "Well, we is fine. Just a little sleepy still."

Sam hovers there for a moment longer and then sighs and turns to leave, "Okay, holler if you need anything."

After Sam's gone I lie back down. More confused than ever. Strangely enough I feel a little better. As long as I can just keep my mother out of my head, everything'll be all right. This Sam stuff is way effective in that respect. But it won't hold for long now that she herself is gone. And for the first time since the accident I find myself wishing I wasn't alone. Because, already I can feel mom edging her way in. She's waiting behind the wall. And maybe I should let her in. Maybe she can explain. She's good with explanations.

Sam's pills are making me woozy. I think I will sleep for a little while longer. Dream the good dream.

The funny thing about Sam's room is, that it's so much cozier than mine. Mine is cold, feels like no one lives there. But Sam's room is cute and comfortable. And I don't know why that is. It's nothing material, I know that much. If you just compare the stuff in her room, and in my room, there's not much of a difference. So it must be something that doesn't reveal itself to the naked eye. It must be something out of this world. Maybe it's Sam herself. Maybe she makes people feel welcome around her. And maybe that reflects itself into the room. The same way I seem to repel people, so my room naturally does too. Whatever it is, it is. And it can't be helped.

Besides, that's just stuff. This is real. I'm standing in her room in the middle of the night. All fussed up. I have my make up on and I even washed my hair. It smells appleish. And I'm dressed in one of my silky nightgowns. The goldish one I tried to seduce Josh with. What a waste of time that was. This won't be. This can't be.

Sam is still sleeping. She'll wake up soon though, she has to. And I can wait. I have to wait. Because I have to know. I have to feel it. I have to feel her love. I'll take it in any shape, in any form she's willing to offer it. I'm desperate for it.

When I woke up an hour ago, I realized why I've been sleeping my nights so well. It's because at night, in the dark, the loneliness pushes on stronger than ever. It consumes everything, and sleep is the only escape. But tonight it didn't work. I couldn't sleep. And when I couldn't sleep I started to make up all this stuff in my head. Stuff about my mother, stuff that hurts, stuff that I need to get rid off. And the only way to do that is through Sam... please open your eyes Sam! Pretty please...

And she does, "Brooke..?", she says with a sleepy voice and sits up.

"Shhh..", I hush her and close the distance between us. Quickly so she doesn't have time to think.

"But wha..", is the only thing she gets out before I cover her mouth with mine. I try to make the kiss passionate, but it feels only desperate. It takes Sam so completely by surprise though, that she doesn't notice the difference. She just goes with it. She goes with it when I push my tongue into her mouth, she goes with it when I slowly press her back down onto the bed, "Brooke. Wait", she manages to pant out when our kiss ends.

"No talk", I answer very sure of myself. I can't give her one second to think. She'll end this for sure. That is why I lie down on top of her and press our lips together again. One of my hands is buried in her hair, and the other one slides carefully under her pajama top. Every move I make is planned ahead. An hour is a long time, and while my body was making itself presentable, my mind was plotting on the best approach. Cause this has to be done just right. Sam's not stupid, she'll notice the smallest mistake I make. When my hand reaches her left breast and starts to caress it, I slowly release her mouth and move down. She makes a soft moan when I start kissing her neck. I remove my right hand from her hair and place it on her mouth. She immediately starts kissing it and licking it and nibbling on it.

It goes on for a time and I can feel Sam's lust growing. Her actions become more and more aggressive, her hands are roaming around my body and her mouth starts to look for mine again. I am not exactly sure at which point it happens, but somewhere along the line our roles change. Sam becomes the aggressor and I let her do whatever she wants. Just like I planned. I let her roll us over so she's on top. I let her lift my nightgown up, I let her hands go where-ever they please. I let her make love to me. Just like I planned...

Only not. I don't feel the pleasure I thought I would. I only feel the desperation. I only feel the need. I push myself harder against Sam in hopes of achieving something pure out of this. But it doesn't work. When I finally reach the climax, I don't cry out from pleasure like I thought I would. I only moan a sigh of relief into her shoulder. I don't feel loved like I thought I would. I only feel like shit for using Sam. Using her true feelings for my own selfish goals.

Sam rolls off of me and starts stroking my hair. I can't look at her. Oh my god, what have I done? What have I DONE?, "Brooke?", she says when I just lie there still as a corpse.

"I'm sorry", I mumble under my breathe and try to stand up.

Sam doesn't let me. She grabs my hand and holds onto it, "What?", she is totally confused. I've hurt her worse than I could've ever even dreamed of. She just doesn't know it yet, "Where are you going?"

"Please Sam. Let's..", let's what? Let's pretend like it never happened? I take a quick glance at her. The expression on her face is filled with hope. She looks so precious. I can't shatter it, not now, "We'll talk in the morning, okay?", I flash her a smile. It's a sad smile I know, but she doesn't see it. She sees everything in roses.

"Okay", she nods and smiles back. And at that moment I could swear I feel loved. And I could swear I love her. But it's only a brief moment in time and it passes by so fast.

Part 7

Saturday. The weekend. Days just don't have the same meaning anymore. Saturday feels the same as any weekday. Of course a lot of that has to do with the fact, that I haven't been in school for two days. I kinda would've liked to go today though. Could've avoided that whole scene that's bound to play out when Sam catches up with me. Well, hanging out at the mall isn't that bad either. Get to see what's new in designer fashion.

What if I just say that it was a mistake? She'll understand that. Of course she'll be a little hurt, but she'll get over it. Or I could say I'm not ready for a serious... yeah right. I was high on the drugs she gave me, couldn't think straight? I don't even remember it? I did WHAT?! God.. maybe I could get myself committed to a mental institution.

"Well, well, well", a frighteningly familiar voice surprises me when I'm pretending to check out a used record stand, "Brooke McQueen. Fancy meeting you here. I was sure you would've slit your wrists by now."

I turn and find myself face to face with Nicole. Should've known better than to try and hide in a mall, "Not yet", I answer and turn back to the stand, "I'll be sure to let you know when I do though."

She chuckles and steps beside me, "Haven't seen you in school lately. What's up?"

"Oh, you know. Couldn't decide what to wear."

She's silent for a second and I pick up a cd at random, "So you went with jeans and a tee-shirt?"

What on earth does she want? If it's just to gloat over my misery, why does she bother with the idle comments, "Can't go wrong with jeans, right?"

"Yes you can", I almost grin, have to really fight to keep my face straight. There's a reason I always overlooked Nicole's evil tendencies. And the reason is she could always make me laugh with her straight forward attitude, "And you already have that cd so you can stop pretending you're interested in it."

I take a better look at the cover. Suzanne Vega. Hmph, what are the odds. I own maybe twenty cds and of course I pick out a one that I already have, "What do you want Nicole?"

"I wanna know what I did", she says immediately.

I turn and frown, "What you did? I don't understand."

"What I did that made you decide I'm not worthy of your friendship anymore."

"I don't remember deciding anything like that", I answer and take a step back.

"Then how come you haven't talked to me in a week?", is that hurt I here in Nicole's voice? Can't be.

"Haven't seen you make much of an effort to talk to me either", I answer after a moments thought. I still don't get what she's going at.

"It's not my style. You know that", she says, "Besides, Josh made an effort, and look where it got him", I don't answer. My mind is starting to spin again. I get all confused, "Admit it Brooke, no matter what we did, you had already made your choice."

"Oh, I'm sorry. How insensitive of me not to think how MY dad's death might affect the lives of my friends", why am I arguing with her? I don't argue anymore. Ever. But something about Nicole is unsettling. She's different from everything else. She is like...

I take a few more steps away from her, "Where are you going?", she asks confused herself.

"I... I'm just...", I turn a full circle and look for something, anything familiar. And the only thing I find is Nicole. She's the same as before the accident. She's the only thing that is the same. Everything else has changed. She's the same, but I've just found new qualities in her. I've just found out she really wanted me as a friend. So in a way even she has changed. I wish she hadn't. I wish she was the same. I wish something was the same.

"Brooke?", Nicole asks again.

I take another step away, "Hey!", a male voice shouts behind Nicole. It's a twenty something guy behind a counter, "You planning on paying for that?", he is pointing at me.

And I frown. What the hell is he talking about? I shake my head a little, "No", I say for some reason. Don't know why. And then I turn around for the last time and walk away.

"Hey you!", comes the male voice again, and after that Nicole's voice. I can't make out what she's saying, the words are not loud enough.

I make it to the escalator that leads down to the exit when a hand grabs my shoulder and spins me around. It's Nicole again. She's not giving up. In some ways she's very much like Sam. And then in other ways she's so nothing like Sam.

"What are you doing McQueen?"

"I'm...", what am I doing?, "Going home."

She grabs my left wrist and lifts my hand in front of my face. It's still holding that Suzanne Vega cd, "These things are not free Brooke. I just saved you a trip to the security guard's office."

"Oh yeah", thanks a bunch, "I should probably return it."

"Keep it, I already paid for it", she says and I keep staring at the cd. Finally she releases her grip, "You know there's something definitely wrong with you Brooke."

"Yeah, I know", I answer glancing at her, "I've become an awful person Nic. And I can't change."

"What do you mean awful?"

I open my mouth to tell her. And then I close it so as not to tell her. And then I shake my head, "Nothing. I gotta go. Sam's waiting me in the car", okay, who said that? I can't believe the things that come out of my mouth.

"You and Sam getting along?", Nicole sounds skeptic. No, she sounds worried.

Why am I hurting her intentionally?, "Oh yeah, we're best friends now", and why am I lying?!

I arrive home, and it's only midday. The avoidance game is not working that well. It's all the same. I've gotta face her sooner or later. It was stupid of me to sneak out in the morning in the first place. But somehow taking the easy way out comes so naturally now. It's in my genes. Like mother, like daughter.

Just hope Sam's not too angry... whose suitcase is that? It's lying in the hallway, and I'm sure it wasn't there in the morning. It can't be Sam's? Could she be that upset? A flash of pain rushes through me. What if she's leaving? It would serve me right, but I can't believe how much even the thought of that hurts.

"Sam?!", I yell and start to ascend the stairs. No answer. I take a few steps and shout again, "Sam!"

"What is it Brooke?", her voice surprises me from behind. I spin around and find her standing in the living room doorway.

Thank God she isn't gone yet, "Sam, I'm sorry I wasn't here in the morning..."

"Brooke...", she cuts me short.

"I don't know why I..."

"Your mother is here Brooke."

Stop interrupting me! I've gotta say... "I... huh... you... What?", I finally stutter out and almost fall down the stairs, "I mean... what?", she didn't just say what I heard. She did not say it.

"She came an hour ago", she said it.

I stare at her dumbfounded. I just stare at her for ten seconds while my mind is catching up with the rest of the world. No awkward conversation with Sam today. That's been delayed. Instead I'll be getting my heart ripped out once more by my mother. Because inside me this feeling of such great hope is surging it's way up. I'm setting myself up for another big disappointment. And I can't help it. Cause she's my mother. And I hate my mother. And I love her. Cause she's my mother.

"And she's here? As in this house?", Sam nods. How can she be so calm? Didn't I just turn her world upside down last night? And now this?, "And that's her suitcase..", she nods again, "Full of stuff that belongs to her."

"She's in the living room right now."

"But... I can't...", what do I say to her?, "I mean... this is too much...", should I drive her out of the house? Scream at her, ask for explanations, hug her, slap her, "I don't know what to say to her."

I'm totally scared. And I'm pleading for Sam to help me. I'm pleading for her to make things right. I'm pleading for her with my eyes. And she does her best. Like always, "Brooke, just relax", she gives me an encouraging smile, "You don't have to say anything, or do anything. Just come see her", she nods a little and keeps smiling, "And I guarantee she's more nervous than you."

Slowly I walk down the few steps and take a hold of Sam's hand when she offers it. It feels so warm, so good against my cold one. The doorway is only a few feet away from us. And then I remember my spying session from a couple of days back. I sat on the steps and heard everything Sam and my aunt said in the living room. So that means she probably heard everything we just said. It doesn't matter. Just go in already! Move you stupid feet! I look down at them. Why doesn't anything in my body work properly?

Sam takes the first step and pulls me into motion along with her. I take one step and my aunt comes to view. She's looking in my direction and smiles. I take another step and the rest of the room opens up. And I see her. For the first time in eight years I see her.

Part 8

Notes: Brooke's mother (named her Sarah) is my very own invention. She should be kept totally seperate from the 'real' thing (who did return in the show, I'm told). The only thing the two have in common, is that they ran away with a guy named Ray (I think I remember hearing that in episode 2) when Brooke was nine.

She has changed. She's not an angel anymore. Her hair is slightly darker and shorter and on ponytail, and her face is slightly thinner. It's too thin. She looks tired, she looks sick. Her whole appearance is worn out. And she's wearing an old blue dress with lots of different flowers in it. I remember that dress from my childhood. But I don't remember this woman.

She stands up quickly when I step into the room. And boy was Sam right, she is so much more nervous than me. It's almost like her whole body is shaking. And there's a smile on her face, only it looks more like she's crying. She opens her mouth to talk, but it takes a long time before she says anything, "H.. hi Brooke", the words barely manage to carry over the room. She waves her hand as she talks. And it trembles worse than anything I've ever seen.

Sam has stopped, and so have I. We're standing fifteen feet apart. It's my turn. My move. I can either ease her suffering a little, or I can make it worse. And even though this sadistic part of me wants to make her feel like shit, I won't do it. I won't, "You came", I say and watch as she tries to nod. It seems though, that she has even more trouble controlling her body than I have mine, "Why?"

She takes a deep breath and seems to calm down a bit, "Be.. cause you asked."

"No I didn't", I say before I can stop myself. Don't make it harder for her!

The crying-smile disappears and it's replaced by a blank expression. A one she has practiced a lot, I can tell. It shows nothing. No emotion. And it hides her natural beauty so well, no one would ever give this woman a second glance. With a twinge of panic I realize it's the same face I've been wearing for the past two weeks. She keeps it on for some seconds, before trading it in for a normal one. As normal as she can muster I guess, "That's right... you didn't", she tries to smile again, and fails, "And I'll leave if you want me to."

"Oh, how noble of you."

This time she takes the hit better. Only lowers her gaze for a second. When she raises it again her eyes meet mine. And now I recognize her. Because of the sadness in them, "I'm sorry about your father Brooke", she says, and then adds quickly, "A..and... Jane...", her look darts between me and Sam a couple of times.

Like anyone cares for your condolences! I almost shout it out loud. Almost. There's a lot of anger still in me. I thought I had let go of it a long time ago. I mean she's here. And I wanted her here.

"You want to sit down Brooke?", Jessica says when the silence becomes a burden.

I just shrug and take a seat at the couch. Sam sits beside me, and across the table my mother sits down on the armchair.

"I would..ve come before, but.. but I only heard from it...", mom starts again.

But I don't let her finish, "That doesn't matter. What matters is that it takes something like this for you to come see your own daughter!", she looks away. She looks away and I see tears in her eyes. Nearly a minute goes by and she doesn't answer, "God! What is wrong with you?", I cry out in frustration.

She's still looking away, looking out of the window into our backyard, "You've taken down the swing", what? Oh, the swing. I loved the swing when I was a child. But I outgrew it, and there was just no use for it anymore. There are times when I'd still like to sit in it though, swing real fast, up and down, and feel the wind. It's almost like flying, "You loved the swing. You used to sit hours in it. Remember?"

Her head turns back and she's smiling again, "Don't", I say to her shaking my head, "Don't go there", my childhood is my own. She has no right to it. Not anymore.

"I live there Brooke."

What is she on? This woman is insane, "You live where?", I say frowning.

"In the memories", she says still smiling. The shakes have left her. She's not nervous anymore. How did that happen? When did that happen?, "I live in your childhood. They are the only happy memories I have."

Yeah. It was a blast, "Oh, sure. If you had such super fun time, why'd you bail on us?", and why the hell am I listening to you?

She glances to my left, where her sister is sitting. I wonder how much she knows about it all. I wonder why I never had the nerve to ask her anything. And I wonder why I'm praying that my mother can answer my question.

"There is no reason that could ever justify it, I know that", she says. At least she has the decency to look at me when she says it, "All I have is a bunch of excuses. And I don't think you want to hear them."

"And I don't know how you dare to make that assumption. You don't know the first thing about me", I'm still talking like I don't care, like she means nothing to me. But my mind isn't buying it anymore. I guess deep down it's been waiting for this all my life. Even if I could never forgive her, I still need to be given that chance. It's my choice to make, and I have a right to it.

Mom just stares at me. And I stare at her. It's almost a contest. When she realizes that she backs down., "Well.. do you want..", she looks at Sam and swallows, "Sam to hear it?"

The girl next to me shifts nervously. I can feel her hand brush against mine. She's sitting real close to me. Do I want Sam to hear it? No, I don't. Do I tell her that? She was real sweet in the hallway, maybe she wouldn't mind waiting outside. I turn to look at her. And she has turned to look at me. She would mind. Her eyes are not as calm anymore. This time she's pleading for me. This time I could do something for her. But why is she so keen on staying?

"Brooke", Sam talks for the first time since we stepped into the room, "Please tell your mother we have no secrets."

But we do have secrets. So many secrets. I press my head down, "Maybe you could wait outside Sam?"

At first there's no reply. Then I feel her standing up, "Oh, sure Brooke", her voice is so bitter I almost don't recognize it, "Whatever you want Brooke. I'll just go stand by the stairs till you need me again. Is that okay.. Brooke?"

I don't answer, I don't look up. I don't move a muscle. I just wait for her to leave, "Sam, wait", my aunt finally intercepts and rushes after her. I steal a quick glance over my shoulder and see Sam just exiting the room. She's not stopping. Jessica follows her a few steps behind leaving me alone. Alone with my mother. I turn back and find her smiling at me. She smiles quite a lot.

"This better be good then. I just hurt her pretty deep", I say with a cold voice. How can she smile so much? I thought her life was supposed to be shit.

"Go after her if you want to", she answers. And still smiles, "I can wait."

"Just talk", Sam will be okay, nothing can keep her down. She is the strongest person on this earth. Yeah.. she'll be okay.

She opens her mouth and is about to say something. A few seconds go by and it seems she changes her mind and says something else, "How much do you want to know?", the smile is finally gone. Replaced by the initial apprehension. Somehow it makes me feel better.

"How about everything."

"Fine. Just remember I'm not trying to defend myself. You wanted to hear it", she takes a deep breath and starts talking. And it's like the words just fly out of her. Like they've been trapped inside for too long, "You're not my first child Brooke", oh good start mom! Exactly what I wanted to hear!, "I had a baby boy at fifteen. Johnny. I raised him all alone for two years. Until one day he got sick. And he got sicker. And then he died. And even though the doctors said he was born with a bad heart, that I couldn't have done anything, I knew it was my fault", she talks with a surprisingly steady voice. I guess she has made her peace with that stuff already. But I'm starting regret I asked her. Should've known there was a sob story behind it. Isn't there always?, "For the following year I shut myself down. Nothing got in, nothing got out. I didn't even grieve for him, I just shut out all feelings and went on living like a robot. And then when I was eighteen I met your father. I met him at a time when I was completely isolated from the world, completely alone. Desperate for any kind of human contact, for anyone to love me", she goes on and on. And I stare at her my mouth open. The words hit me with such force I almost choke. How can she use those very words? How can she know? How can we be so alike? But she's not looking at me and so she doesn't see me gasping for air, "And it's not like I didn't feel anything for him. I did love him in my own way I think. But not enough. It wouldn't have lasted a year if I hadn't gotten pregnant", she turns quickly to look at me and sees my anguish. But she mistakes the reason for it, "Oh, I didn't mean it like that Brooke! I was so happy the day you were born!"

I close my eyes and shake off the gnarly feeling inside. Get a hold of yourself Brookie! She's your mother, it's only natural you deal the same way with the same stuff. Still.. it puts a new spin on some things. But that's for later, "Yeah, don't worry", I say when I open my eyes, "It's not like I hadn't guessed already, that I was an unwanted bundle of joy."

"That's not true!", she says it loud. Too loud. Who gave her the right to yell?, "I loved you from day one. And so did Mike."

I settle for a glare. No point in arguing about something so stupid, "Move. On."

She doesn't want to. She wants to argue. But she can't, cause I get to call all the shots around here. So she gives up and continues, "The few years after your birth were the happiest of my life. I devoted them to you. And I got along with Mike quite well, even though I hadn't loved him for a long time anymore", no matter how much I'd like to think she's lying, I know she isn't. My earliest memories are of my mother. I know she was always there when I was a baby. But that's no comfort. It only makes her betrayal hurt even more, "But you grew up. And needed me less and less.."

"Grew up!", what the hell?!, "I was nine when you left!"

I manage to scare her good. She almost jumps up from her seat, "Like I said Brooke. They are only excuses", this time she doesn't raise her voice. And she did say that, so just calm down, "You were nine. And you had started your school a couple of years back. I had all that time during the day and nothing to do with it. So I started exploring the outside world. It was a place I had never seen before, a whole different land with lots of pretty things, and lots of different people. I started realizing all that I had missed. I never got to just be me, free in the world , with no worries and no responsibilities. I missed my whole youth and I wanted it back."

"And to hell with everything else, ha... mom?", I pour all my self-pity into those words. I never liked the stuff anyways. It's useless, and it's unattractive.

She looks happy when I call her mom. Even though I meant it as an insult, "That was pretty much the gist of it. When I met Ray it was all over. He had all these wild ideas about life, and how to live it. And I so much wanted to be a part of it. Then when I ran away with him, I just ran. I didn't think about anything, I just ran. We got into a buss to New York. And you wouldn't believe the feeling of freedom. It was such a rush to be sitting in that buss knowing that I could go anywhere", she talks and I hear the excitement in her voice, I see it in her face. And then she turns to look at me and the glimmer in her eyes disappears, "Of course the feeling subsided as soon as I came down from the clouds. It was probably a month later when I called the first time, and hung up. Then it was almost a daily routine for about two weeks, I dialed the number and hung up after a couple of rings. Once or twice Mike answered but I never got a word out. And every time it was harder to pick up the receiver, until finally I gave up. Stopped trying."

I'm fine right until the last few sentences. But then slowly this bad thing inside of me starts to grow. It's an overwhelming feeling of pain. I don't want to cry in front of her. So I do the only thing I can, I flee. I get up and I half walk, half run to the door, "Brooke?", she calls after me. I barely hear it. I thought I could take it, I thought that whatever she said it couldn't be that bad. After all, I've gone through every possible reason in my head. And hers was a pretty good one. I can understand it, despite my biting comments and my mock hurt, I can understand it. I can understand her leaving. It's not the reason that pains me, it's not even the fact that she left.

It's that she wanted to come back. It's that she was SO close to coming back, and then nothing. She just gives up. And as a result we lost eight years. I lost eight years I was entitled to. Eight years because she was too much of a coward to admit her mistake! It's such a waste!

In the doorway I run straight into my aunt. She's coming in and catches me by the shoulders when we collide, "Brooke? What's wrong?", Jessica asks with a worried look about her. I try to answer but it's not working, my mouth is not working. Instead I look at her with my watery eyes. She looks back for a moment, and then past me, at her sister. And her face hardens, "What did you do?", she demands to know.

I don't hear the answer. If there even was one. I pull free from Jessica's grasp and escape. Out the front door and away.

Thanks for reading, I have a feeling some of you might not share my views on how the confrontation should've turned out. If you disagree, or agree, whatever, let me know. I want to know,
Megan

Part 9

The corner of Greenway Drive and Park Avenue is so very close. A walking distance from the house. The weird thing is, that it's so scarcely trafficked. Especially late at night. I can't believe the accident happened here. Dad and Jane had to be hit by the only other car in a mile's distance. Of all the bad luck.

At three p.m. there's still some traffic here. I sit on a bench at a bus stop and watch all the cars drive through the intersection. I watch them wait at the lights, and then speed through. All of them. There are no close calls. Not even a single one. I wonder if someone has done a research on how many accidents happen here. And I wonder where I could get my hands on such a research. I could go to the library and scan through all the local papers, do my own study. That sounds just so much fun. Too much.

A gray ford pulls into the stop. A loud base is pumping through the open windows and a brunette girl of maybe thirteen steps out of the front passenger door. She leans down and says something to the driver. Then the car speeds of and I follow as it drives straight through the green lights and takes a right turn on Greenway. Away from the house. To the direction dad and Jane were coming from. I keep turning my head around further and further, trying to follow it's route until finally the car disappears behind a building. Another one got through. What was it that made dad and Jane so special? Why were they picked?

"That was my brother. Cool car, ha?", the thirteenish girl surprises me. I fling my head back just as she sits next to me on the bench. She's way upbeat, has an adorable smile on her face. I smile back and nod my head once, "So where you headed?"

"To the city", I answer without thinking. My auto pilot seems to be on lie-mode today. Well, the girl deserves it, who goes around initiating conversations with strangers?

"Hey, me too!", she chirps and grins, "Don't you just love LA?", I shrug, "Yeah I know, you've probably gotten tired of it already, hey? Not me though", she goes on and takes a quick glance down Park Avenue. Scouting for the bus, "I could spend hours just walking the streets. And I can't wait till I'm old enough to get into clubs and stuff", it's kinda fun listening her talk. So carefree, "Hey, you wanna borrow a tissue or something? Cause your eyes are", she says grimacing and waving a finger at her own eyes, "kind of a mess, you know?"

Yeah, I know, I wept the whole way down here, "You carry around tissues?", I ask eyeing her from head to toe. She's dressed in blue jeans and a black sweater. I'm almost scared to think where she might have hidden the tissues. Or in what condition they are.

Again she grins, "Well, no. I just thought it was polite to offer", I laugh out loud. She's great!, "But seriously, you gotta do something to your eyes. They are all puffy and smudged and wet and whatnot."

"Yeah", I say when I stop laughing. I still keep smiling though, "I'm gona head for that gas station soon as I've rested enough", I say and nod towards the building across the street.

"But you'll miss the bus", she says a little confused.

I'll miss the bus. Damn! Suddenly getting on that bus seems so appealing. Just get on that bus and go where-ever I want. You wouldn't believe the feeling of freedom Brooke. Who said that? My mother. Only some two hours ago. Seems much longer. Or shorter. Depends on how long an hour usually feels. I don't remember anymore.

"Here it comes already!", she says and jumps up. I look down the road and sure enough there it is, "Come on, you can clean up in LA, there are rest rooms there too. I don't wanna sit all by myself in the bus."

I get up and walk to the curb behind her. I could just get in, and leave. There's nothing for me here, nothing for me at home. I turn and look across the intersection, towards the house. Of course I can't see it, it's maybe a mile away. But I can picture it. In all it's emptiness, and it's former queen who has returned from exile. Nothing there. Nothing but... Sam, walking down the hill. Towards me. Her head is spinning around until her eyes meet mine. She's almost fifty yards away, but I can see her smile when she recognizes me. What IS she made of? How can she forgive me everything before I even get a chance to apologize?

I see her only for a second. Then the view is blocked by the monstrous bus. I think I hear a faint voice calling me over the rumbling sound of the engine. It's too distant to take into notice though.

"Come", the girl is motioning for me to follow her inside. She's grinning. I like her. A lot.

But not enough. I shake my head slightly, "Nah, I'll catch a later bus."

"You sure?", she asks and I nod, "Okay, see ya", she shrugs and flashes that adorable grin one more time, "I'm Dana by the way."

"Brooke", I answer and smile. I really like her. I like her cause she's got nothing to do with my life. I like her cause she's the first thing that made me laugh, made me forget. Even if it was only for a minute. I like her even though I know nothing about her.

She disappears deeper into the depths of the metal thingy. I look after her for a moment and then take a few steps back when the bus leaves. So as to avoid the enormous fume clouds emitting from it. It moves maybe two bus lengths before coming to an abrupt halt again.

"Wait!", I hear Sam's voice. She comes around from the front of the bus and stops at the front door. She doesn't see me. She must've run like crazy across the road to cut off the bus. The driver opens the door and throws some curses at Sam. She isn't impressed. Instead she hops inside.

Great. Now she's in the bus and I'm not. Why didn't I just shout to her? God, why can't I do anything like a normal person?! Slowly I start to make my way to the front door, all the while trying to catch a glimpse from the inside. Ten seconds go by. Fifteen. And nothing happens.

When I'm almost at door I hear her voice, "... the blonde that got in from this stop?", she sounds annoyed.

"The blonde didn't get in", the driver is even more annoyed. I see them now, through the open door. I see Sam's back, and the side of her face when she's trying to look for me inside the bus.

"No, but I saw her. She was standing.."

"The blonde did! not! get! in!", the middle-aged man shouts from the top of his lungs. Sam almost falls out of the bus, onto her back. The facts are just not registering into her head. She turns to stare at the driver.

"Sam?", I ask timidly, before the guy pulls out a gun and shoots her.

She turns around still in a state of daze, "Brooke? You didn't get in?", she frowns.

I shake my head a little, "All good?", the driver is glowering behind her, "Good. Now get out!", he answers his own question.

Sam takes a quick glance over her shoulder and then steps back out. The door closes right behind her and the bus leaves again. She's standing only a few steps away from me. I can see the relief in her features, "Why are you here Brooke?", she asks taking a step closer. But still afraid to come too close. She must think I'm some kind of a wild animal, that'll run if provoked.

"Why are you?", I ask back.

She smiles and shrugs, "Jessica said you ran out. I had to come look for you."

"But why?", I ask again and bow my head. A few stray hairs fall from their place and hang annoyingly on my face, "I'll only hurt you more and more."

It takes a moment for her to answer, "You still don't know?", her hand comes from out of nowhere and brushes away the few rebel hairs. It puts them back in their place, and then rests on my cheek for a while before pulling away, "How much I love you?"

Maybe I do know. Maybe it's bad that I know. Cause I'll only abuse that love, use it and then discard it. Use you, and then dump you, "How can you love me so much, when I'm such utter garbage? I don't deserve you, and I definitely don't deserve your love."

"You're not garbage. You are just a girl trying to survive a bad situation."

She takes another step closer. But I push her away, "Don't Sam. I'll only hurt you again and again", I say and look at her.

"And I'll still love you", she's pretending to have all the answers again. She's so sure of herself, I really have no way of competing with her. Might as well give up now, and see how much she means what she says.

I'll give it one more shot. Give her one more chance to back away, "Don't you even care if I love you back or not?", that shuts her up. She wasn't expecting it. I can hurt her again if I want to. And after this strike she won't be coming back for more, "See Sam? See how easy it is for me? I have no little voice inside that's telling me to stop."

We stare at each other for a good half a minute. I wait for her to break down. She doesn't, she's too strong. But she does hurt, she can't hide that. She gets angry when she hurts. And when she gets angry she loses control, and that's when I can see it. That's when I see the pain and the suffering she keeps inside. She hides them as well as I hide mine, but when she's angry I can see it.

"Good for you Brooke. Maybe you're right then", she says and starts to walk away, "Enjoy the rest of your life. At least you have you're mother now to share it with."

I can't let her have the last word. That's the way we always end things, and she always comes back. So I start after her, "Yeah, me and my mother. We are so much alike, it's scary."

We cross the road. Sam's heading for the house. She's walking so fast I have to scurry to keep up, "You really aren't Brooke", she says shaking her head slightly, "At least your mother has a heart. At least she doesn't intentionally go around hurting people just to prove what a bitch she is."

"What?", why did she say that? How could she say that? She hates my mother, she knows what my mother has done. I stop walking, "You didn't mean that."

Sam stops too. She has an evil grin on her face, "Oh, I didn't hurt your feelings, did I, Brookie?"

"You hate my mother. You have to hate her."

"Why?"

"Because", I say and try to think of a reason, "Because she's my mother. She's the reason everything sucks. The reason I am this way."

Sam's face softens a touch, "That's just stupid Brooke. You can't blame everything on her."

"No, I can! You didn't hear what she said", this is going well Brooke. Only two minutes has passed and already you're begging for Sam's help, "You didn't hear", I repeat more quietly, "We are exactly alike. Every decision she's made, I've made. Everything she's done, I've done", I set out to drive her away, and instead I'm pulling her back. Cause I can't live without her. I just can't.

She looks at me for the longest time. And again she forgives me. Even when I don't ask for it. This isn't healthy. This is not the way it's supposed to work, "Come on. You're overreacting. Your life is your own, you make the decisions. Not her."

I want to cry again. But not out here, "But the things she said", I plead with a pitiful voice, "The words she used", it's no more than a whisper. I tap my head a couple of times and nod, "They're from here. They are my thoughts, my feelings."

Sam hesitates only for a second. When the first tear rolls out of my eye she envelopes me into a powerful hug. I cry, I bury my face into her hair and I cry. I don't wanna cry out here, but it's okay. Cause Sam's here too. And she'll protect me, "I'm sorry Sam", I whisper into her ear. At least I think I do. Can't be sure if the words ever leave my mouth, "I do love you", how could I not love her? How could anyone not love her?

P.s. The ending was especially hand-crafted for a certain list member, who has been very helpful with her feedback, and her own stories. Hope you like it, and can sleep a little better now. (And I hope you know who you are )

Part 10

I let her stay. I mean she's my mother, and I love her, and I want her here. She looks happy when I tell her she can stay. But the sadness still stays with her. I don't think it ever leaves, I think it's something she's accepted as a part of herself. I hope I never have to do that. But sometimes it feels like I already have.

The evening is uncomfortable, and it drags on slower than anything. Sam asks her little things about her life. What do you do for money? You're a waitress? That's hard work, isn't it? Where do you live? Oh, Boston! Lot's of colleges. What? You take courses in Boston University? That's great, I mean.. it is.. really great. Don't you think so, Brooke?

And I smile, and I nod, in all the right places. But I say very little. Mostly I just look at her, and I look at Sam, and it's a weird conversation. Mom is trying real hard not to say anything wrong, anything upsetting. And Sam.. I don't know what she's trying to do. At first it looks like she's interrogating her but gradually it starts to seem as if she is truly interested in what the woman is saying. And I almost get the feeling like she's interviewing her for an article.

Her story, fascinating as it may be, doesn't sit well with my current state of mind. I try to follow it, but somehow I can't stay focused. Things start to slip by me and I decide it's time to excuse myself, "I think I'm gona take a shower and then go to sleep", I say when an appropriate pause presents itself.

"Wait Brooke. I'll come with you", Sam says when I stand up.

I look at her and frown a little, "You don't have to Sam."

"No, but I want to", she answers also standing up.

"You want to come to the shower with me?", I ask, shaking my head a little. A quick glance at my mother tells me that she's following our exchange with mild curiosity and confusion. I wonder how she'd deal with me and Sam.. let's not even go there. It's not like she has any say in anything.

"Well, no", Sam blushes, "But I wanted to talk to you about something."

I bet. But I'm not sure I'm ready for that conversation, "Can't it wait?"

"No, Brooke, it can't", she states and her voice is hard. And that's that. I promised her I wouldn't hurt her anymore, I wouldn't shut her out. She didn't ask for the promise, but I made it. And now I wanna break it only four hours later. I was so right about me. I can't do it. I can't deal with all this stuff.

"Fine, can I shower first?", I sound irritated.

And Sam notices it, and she's not happy. But she let's it go, "Of course", she says and sits back down.

"Good night Brooke", mom pipes up before I can make my exit.

I stop at the door for a second, "Night mom", it just leaves my mouth so naturally. I don't plan to say it, it just comes out. She is my mother. Might as well call her that.

I walk up to my room and start to undress. I try for some seconds to pull off my shirt, but all strength seems to have left my body. I give up and sit down on the bed and start to think about stuff.

I do love Sam. Like I told her. But all this other stuff, this life, everything that it brings with it seems so hard. I don't know if I can live up to Sam's expectations. I can't believe she loves me so much. I can't believe how much she's given up, sacrificed just for me. Just to be near me. And I can't believe I wish she hadn't done all that. Our relationship is too unbalanced. I have too much power over her. If only Sam had all the power. If only Sam could make all the decisions for me. She's so good at that. She always does the right thing, says the right words.

She comes into my room fifteen minutes later. I'm still sitting on the bed in my jeans and my white tee-shirt, "What? No shower?", she asks and takes the chair.

I shake my head, "No shower."

She shrugs. Doesn't seem too upset anymore, "What are you gona do about your mother, Brooke?"

What? My mother? Who cares?, "What do you mean? I told her she could stay."

"Yeah, but are you just gona keep ignoring her like just now, downstairs?"

I glower at her. Why is she so obsessed with my mother all of a sudden?, "Give me a fucking break!", I say too loud, and too angrily. She didn't deserve it, "I saw her for the first time in eight years today."

Sam backs down a bit. I get the feeling there's something else behind it all, "Okay, fair enough", she says and leans back, "Just.. try to see her as she is. Not as she was", is she actually defending my mother?

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?", I ask putting an end to the mother business. Who needs it?

She takes a deep breath, "No."

I wait for her to go on. Nothing, "Yeah and..?"

"Why are you so hostile?", Sam finally asks looking straight at me.

My turn to sigh, "Sam, I'm really tired. If you don't have anything earth-shattering to say, could it please wait?", Sam looks sad. Real sad. And tired herself. It's been a long day. It was a long last night. She probably didn't sleep at all after my.. attack, "You look like you could use some rest yourself Sam", I try with a more settling tone.

"I just.. need to know", she whispers. I barely hear it, "Where you think this'll all lead?"

I don't think I've ever seen Sam more vulnerable. I hardly even recognize her with the trembling hands and the faltering voice, "I have no idea", I say. Why is she asking me? She's the one with the answers, and the plans, "Honestly Sam. It's just so much."

"But you'll try, right? Like you promised?", she keeps on going. I really didn't want this now. I'm too tired, I'll hurt her just to get rid of her. I know I will, "Like when you said you loved me, you meant it? It wasn't just to ease the pain?"

I sigh again. Deep, and bow my head. I try, real hard, and manage to suppress the initial reaction. Manage to swallow the automated response, "Yeah. I meant it", she starts breathing again. I can hear her across the room, "But the thing is Sam, it might not be enough."

"It's enough", she waits until I raise my head to look at her again, and then stands up, "It's a start."

No, but wait Sam! I mean to say it out loud. But I don't. Instead I watch her walk up to me, I watch her slightly brush my forehead with her fingers. And I watch her smile, before leaving the room. There's this thing I didn't tell you Sam. This thing that keeps on gnawing and gnawing at my brain. This thing my mother said, `I was eighteen when I met your father. I met him at a time when I was completely isolated from the world, completely alone. Desperate for any kind of human contact, for anyone to love me'. How much do I identify with that. And how badly did that end. It's almost like I'm reliving her life over.

That's stupid Brooke, you make your own choices. Sam said that. Sam knows more than my mother. Besides, I've known Sam longer. I knew her when everything was fine. And I think I loved her even then. I just need to sleep away these bad feelings. Everything'll be better in the morning.

With Sunday morning comes rain. Rain is good, it washes away all the dirt. I wake up from the steady sound of rain drops beating against my window. I wake up feeling better than ever. It's only six in the morning but I'm all slept out. Still, lying in the bed and listening to the rain is one of the few small things I love doing. No matter what mood I'm in. So I stay in bed and think back on last night. It's a little hazy at first. I can't remember why I was so cranky. Why I was so worried about all that stuff. It's all so meaningless. If I love Sam and she loves me, then that's that. Nothing else matters.

Maybe I'll go wake Sam up and tell her that. She'd be so surprised, she'd be so happy. The thought of making Sam happy fills my heart with all kinds of warm feelings. Maybe I'll go make her some breakfast. Then she'd be even happier. And she would see that I really love her, and then she wouldn't have to ask anymore. Cause she would know.

I smile at my own ingenuousness, throw on a bathrobe and sneak downstairs. Seems someone else has stolen my big idea. More particularly my mother. She's hogged the kitchen before me.

I stop in the doorway so that she doesn't see me, and observe as she slices a tomato. I only see her from the side but something about her expression, her whole posture, takes my breath away. She looks so concentrated on the task. On this mundane task. And she is herself, she's not trying to explain things to me, she's not apologizing, she's just a woman making breakfast. She stands there and cuts the tomato, again and again, like any other person. And at that moment I see inside of her. I see beyond what she is to me, I see her as a whole. And I stop feeling angry at her, I stop feeling sorry for her, and I just see her, as she is in the world. Trying to live her life like anyone else. And even if I can't forgive her today, or tomorrow, or this week, or this month, I know that someday I can. Someday I'll be able to look her in the eyes and smile, and I can say: I'm happy you're my mom, I wouldn't trade you for anyone.

She raises her head a little and catches a glimpse of my reflection from the window. Her knife hand twitches back a little and she manages to cut her left thumb, "Aww.. shit!", she cries and drops the knife, "Oh damn!"

I grab a paper towel and move closer, "Here let me help", she turns and gawks at me like I had two heads. She's hiding the injured finger inside her right palm, "Come on, mom. How bad is it?", I go on when she just stands there.

Finally she startles out of it, "It's.. it's nothing Brooke. Just a little cut", she answers and reveals the injured finger.

The wound is not big, but it's bleeding pretty much, "Okay", I say and take a hold of her hand. It's warm and so soft, just like I remembered it, "I'll just..", I wrap the towel around the thumb, and press it lightly.

"Brooke", she whispers and lifts her free hand to brush my hair. It never reaches it's target though, just hovers above my head.

I meet her gaze and she's crying. Silently, but the tears are visible. I smile at her, "Still can't sleep when it rains?"

She shakes her head and laughs through the tears. And slowly lowers her hand back down. It's another secret thing we shared when I was a child. Whenever it rained in the night she would come to my room and we would sit on my bed and look out the window. It didn't happen often, we live in California after all. How weird is it then that it rains the first night she comes back.

She dries off her eyes, "So you want some breakfast? I managed to make two sandwiches before cutting off my finger", she says and pulls away her hand when I release it.

"Sure. Let me just get a band-aid for that", I answer.

We sit at the table and eat. Quietly, no talk. And it's the closest I've felt to her since her return. Jessica comes down a few minutes later and ruins the moment. When the chatter starts mom's walls rise back up. She thinks carefully about everything she says, and I always get the feeling she's not telling the whole truth. And I don't like it. I leave quickly, before the resentment has time to return. "I'll go wake Sam up", I say remembering my original mission.

The two sisters both look at me for a moment and then nod. Something in my aunts eyes tells me she knows more than she should. She knows a lot. Maybe everything. Depends on how well Sam's been hiding her feelings. But it doesn't matter. Jessica is great that way. She doesn't judge, sometimes it seems she doesn't even care, but that's not right. She cares, she just doesn't interfere unless asked. Maybe she wouldn't make a good parent, but she sure is a great aunt.

Sam is already awake. Her door is open and she's brushing her hair in front of the mirror, "Hey", she says when I enter the room.

"Hey yourself", I answer her and stop in the middle of the room.

Sam turns around in her chair and smiles, "You look better."

"I am", I nod a couple of times, "I wanted to tell you something."

"What?", Sam asks.

I bow my head and start rubbing my hands together nervously. I have no idea what's gona come out of my mouth. Maybe I should start planning things a little better, "I'm pretty sure I love you more than I'll ever love anything", I start and decide to say everything that comes to my mind. I don't sensor, I just talk, "And if you love me as much, and can forgive me every bad thing I've done to you", I swallow hard, "And the ones that I'll do in the future..", I raise my head up and startle a little when I find Sam standing right in front of me. But the things need to be said, "Cause I will hurt you again Sam. I know myself too well", she opens her mouth to say something, but I'm quicker, "And I know this good feeling that's inside me now, will eventually pass, and that's when I'll hurt you. Cause that's when I don't care about anything", she doesn't believe me. But she'll learn, sooner or later. I can be one evil chick when I'm in the mood, "So, if you can forgive me, then I think I want to be with you. Always."

Sam only looks at me first and then grins, "Could you be a little more dramatic Brooke?"

"It's not funny Sam. It's the way it is."

She keeps on grinning and then shrugs, "All right. You believe it if you need to. And I promise to forgive you. Every time", she's acting like nothing, "I guess we just have to make sure you feel all good, all the time", it's a joke to her. Sam is so strong, she's not afraid of anything. When she leans in and hugs me, I hug her back, "You won't hurt me Brooke. As long as you love me, nothing can hurt me", and maybe Sam is right, she often is.

I look into the mirror and see Sam's back, and her brown hair flowing free. I see my face, leaning on her shoulder. I see my blonde hair mix with her brown. And it makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I'm home. Where I belong.

ende

Thank you so much for reading, hope you've enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Bye,
Megan

Megan

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