Brooke v. World: Monday 3 February (evening)
You might be wondering why I’m posting twice in one day. Today has taken a nosedive and I really need your support. You remember how I finally got up the guts to kiss Jack at the New Year’s Eve party and then he didn’t call? It turns out, he doesn’t remember me. How freaking humiliating is that?
He and I shared a toe-curling make out session—the best of my life—and it was apparently so unmemorable that he doesn’t even recall my name.
Please tell me there are men out there who would appreciate my ability to recite the actors from Doctor Who in chronological order, admire my collection of cosplay outfits (and preferably have their own), and who possess a modicum of common decency. Please tell me Jack is the exception to the rule.
Also, sigh. I’m just realizing, I must have terrible taste in men. Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been so stupid. I don’t know what to do with myself—or him. Any and all advice appreciated.
Brooke XX
She read over what she’d written. The simple act of venting was cathartic and eased the pressure in her chest. She didn’t even need to post it. No one else had to know about her private humiliation. But man, giving words to her feelings really helped, regardless of whether anyone would ever see.
She yawned, her limbs heavy, her mind beginning to turn fuzzy. Time to rest. She hit the delete button, closed her laptop, rolled over, and was asleep within seconds.
3
Something thudded in the back of Brooke’s consciousness. Thud. Thud. Thud. The thudding was followed by the sound of two bits of metal scraping against each other. Ick, what was that?
“Brooke, you up?” a voice called.
She groaned and tried to open her eyes, but she was lying face down and they stayed sealed tight.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Brooke, it’s lunchtime.”
“Mmph,” she replied, her mouth pressed against the mattress. Couldn’t they just go away? She was so tired, her legs like chunks of lead, her arms void of strength. Her head was foggy, her thoughts sluggish. She needed to rest for longer.
“You can go back to sleep later,” the voice said. This time, she placed it as Kat. “But you didn’t have dinner last night, or breakfast this morning, so you need to refuel.”
Brooke lifted her face so there was enough space between her lips and the bed for her to mutter, “Fine.”
“Good.” The weight of the hand left her shoulder. “I’ll send Tee to get you if you’re not out in fifteen minutes.”
“Mmkay.”
Once the door clicked shut, Brooke raised herself up, slowly and carefully. She cleared her throat, which felt scratchy, and pressed her fingertips to her lymph nodes—firm and slightly swollen. Letting her head drop to her chest, she rubbed her bleary eyes. She’d overdone it yesterday. Most days, she no longer experienced any of the symptoms of chronic fatigue, which had struck her down a year ago after a nasty bout of glandular fever, but the symptoms returned when she overexerted herself.
“Stupid,” she grumbled. She’d been determined to put on a good front for Jack, and it hadn’t done her any favors. Raking a hand through her hair, she winced when it snagged on a knot. She grabbed her brush from the bedside cabinet and dragged it through her hair with one hand, using the other to open her laptop. Immediately, something unexpected caught her eye and she froze, brush halfway down the length of her hair.
Her heart stuttered, and her lips parted. Oh, shit.
The post she’d written yesterday. The one about Jack. She must have been so exhausted she’d hit the wrong button. Instead of deleting it, she’d published it, and already more than thirty of her readers had commented. Spots flashed in front of her eyes, and her head spun. She was going to be sick. Hands shaking, she refreshed the page, then checked it to make sure her eyes hadn’t deceived her.
No such luck. The post was still there, along with the comments. She heard a sound and realized she’d whimpered. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. With a growing sense of dread, she scrolled down and started reading. Most of the comments were sympathetic, but some offered suggestions about how she could force Jack to remember her. Her breath caught in her throat. Jessica, 15, from Auckland, went as far as to suggest that she should seduce him, make him fall in love with her, and then reject him for revenge. Jessica’s suggestion had more than a dozen likes. Her readers were loyal and vindictive. Another woman, Amber, recommended she become his girlfriend, make him crazy for her, and break up with him publicly in a way that would make sure no one else would ever want him.
Brooke clutched at her cheeks. Why oh why had she felt the need to vent? Even if she’d had no intention of posting her rant, she should have known better. Nothing died on the internet, and nothing could truly be deleted. She glanced at the clock. She had ten minutes before Tione came looking for her. With clumsy fingers, she replied to Amber’s comment.
Haha, great suggestion! Thanks for having my back. XX.
She wasn’t about to take either Amber or Jessica up on their advice, but they cared about her enough to be angry on her behalf, so she owed them gratitude for their support. That done, she tapped out a brief update.
Brooke v. World: Tuesday 4 February
Thanks to everyone for the comments and suggestions. I’m a bit embarrassed about venting to you all. I appreciate your thoughts and well wishes, and I’m going to do my best to take the high road. I’ll try to forget what happened and focus on the important thing. I need Jack to help me get in shape and tackle some big challenges on the horizon. I’m excited for them, and I’m sure you will be too when you hear what I’ve got planned.
I’d love to hear how you’re doing and what challenges are coming up in your life. Leanne shared with me that she’s going through another round of chemo, so let’s keep her in our thoughts today.
Brooke XX
Once she’d published the update, she finished brushing her hair and showered so she didn’t smell like she’d been in bed for eighteen hours, then dressed and went to lunch. She’d hoped to find Kat in the dining hall to discuss her mission to hike to Everest Base Camp, but her friend was nowhere in sight. Instead, Brooke ate alone beside the window overlooking the garden, where Betty, Nell, and Hugh MacAllister, the town councilor, were eating a homemade picnic. Betty was the leader of the Bridge Club, which many of the local retirees—including Nell and Mavis—belonged to. The club had a reputation for meddling in other’s lives as much as they played bridge, if not more so.
When she’d finished her chicken salad, she cleaned her plate and leaned over the counter to call to Tione.
“Kia ora, Brooke,” he greeted her, his lips tilting up at the corners into what, for him, passed as a smile. “How are you feeling today?”
She bit her tongue. When people asked that, her first instinct was to get defensive, but they only asked because they cared. “I’m all right,” she said. “A bit tired, but I’ll live.”
“Great. Glad to hear it.”
“Have you seen Kat around?”
His grin spread until no one could possibly mistake it. “Yeah, and I think you should give her some time alone.”