Chapter 12 - The Hero Revealed
"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." – Ralph Waldo Emerson
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“I hate doctors’ offices.” Brooke crossed her arms and sank back into the car seat as I drove. “They make you wait forever.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Mom always made the wait not so bad.”
“Ah, Grace and her magic. I wonder why she’s not coming since she made the appointment.”
We were both worried about Brooke and had waited for months, but she hadn’t taken any action to help herself. “She’s gotta work, and Coop gave me some time off to take care of this.”
“Don’t you mean take care of your wacky, pathetic best friend?”
I glanced at her, hoping she knew I thought more of her than that, and of Mom, too.
“What?” Brooke acted surprised, then turned to the window. “Okay, thanks for caring.”
A few minutes later, we arrived at the free clinic.
While Brooke went to the check-in desk, I found a seat in the waiting area. She soon joined me.
“Did they tell you how long you’ll wait?” I asked.
“Grace called ahead. Plus, a visiting doctor is helping this week, so it shouldn’t take long.”
Sure enough, it didn’t take long for a nurse to call Brooke to come back to see the doctor. The waiting room had a TV with a show about remodeling houses. They’d found some of the worst ones ever and were demonstrating how they’d be transformed into comfortable living spaces.
Shortly before the final reveal of the finished house, a commotion pulled my attention from the TV. “Ms. Sunberg, you need to make a follow-up appointment.”
With steam rolling out of her ears, Brooke shoved past people at the checkout window. “Out of my way.” She hadn’t even told me she was ready to go; she was just out the door. I quickly followed her.
Outside, next to a public trash bin, she stood ripping up what appeared to be a prescription from the doctor. As I approached, she justified her actions. “He was a crackpot. I don’t want to take this shit and become a drug zombie.”
Arguing with her would’ve been pointless. What experience did I have with drugs?
* * *
In the evening, Keisha treated us to a large order of chicken wings. She brought a few different sauces, and we were in heaven.
Keisha told us about her new job in marketing at a tech company. Brooke shared the latest office gossip. We talked and laughed, and soon, the bones began to pile up.
“Keisha,” I said with the last bone in my hand. “Thanks for the wings. They were awesome!”
Keisha said, handing me a paper towel. “I’m glad you liked it.”
Brooke wiped her mouth and said, “Yes, thanks for this wonderful treat.”
“Glad I could share it with my friends.”
Brooke pointed out, “Where is Leo these days? We haven’t seen much of him.”
“Oh, he's on a consulting assignment for another month or so.”
“Tell him we miss him,” Brooke said.
“Well, during his gig, he is out of communication.”
Knowing that he was involved in private security, I was intrigued. “So, is he like on some undercover mission somewhere?”
“Jake, don’t get your hopes up about some secret spy stuff. It is just a consulting job. He'll contact us when he gets back.”
Brooke said, “Come on, Jake Bond, I have a mission for you. Let’s clean up.” She nudged me with her elbow, as if trying to wake me from my trance of secret spy missions.
I, in turn, slapped the side of Brooke’s ass and left a giant handprint on her dress.
“What the hell, Jake! That was one of my favorite dresses!” Brooke exclaimed, slapping me back and storming off to her bedroom.
Sometimes, she might exaggerate being mad for fun’s sake, but this time, I realized I probably stained her dress or even ruined it.
Before she entered her room, she called to Keisha, “Don’t let him slap your ass, or he might ruin your nice pants.” As she slammed her door, Keisha and I grinned at each other. We both had the same idea.
A minute or so later, Brooke came out in a casual dress. As she entered the kitchen, I was clearing away the bones, and Keisha was at the sink cleaning dishes. Brooke saw two large handprints on Keisha’s pants.
“Damn it, Jake!” Now she was mad. “Can’t you keep your hands to yourself! Look at her pants. You ruined them!”
Keisha peered over her shoulder at the back of her pants and exclaimed, “Oh damn! I didn’t realize how dirty my hands were when I wiped them onto my pants.”
Keisha turned around to Brooke and defended me, “Don’t blame Jake. He kept his hands off my ass.” As she turned around and explained, Brooke saw sauce smeared over her shirt like someone had been wiping his hands off.
Brooke was about to explode again, and Keisha and I started laughing. Brooke reached for the sauce on the table, rubbed her hands in it, and came at me. She reached up, grabbed my face between her messy hands, and rubbed my cheeks.
“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” She said as she tried to rub some in my hair.
By this time, Keisha had come behind Brooke with wet, soapy hands, grabbed her shoulders, and dropped a damp rag down the back of her dress. She was so edgy that she whirled around and slapped some more sauce on Keisha’s shirt. I retaliated and poured some sauce on Brooke’s hair.
The saucy food fight began in earnest. In a few moments, the battle was over, and the sauce was gone. In the aftermath, everyone was covered, from our hair to all over. We were all laughing at the mess. Brooke acted like she was still a bit mad at me.
Brooke then announced, “Okay, fun is over. Time to clean up.”
Luckily, I had some clean clothes for after work and changed quickly. The girls took their time, and their laughter spilled into the kitchen while I finished cleaning.
Eventually, we all met in the living room.
“How’d the doctor’s visit go today?” Keisha asked.
I wasn’t sure how she found out, but I was glad someone else would help. Brooke kept dodging my questions, which I couldn’t even get her to acknowledge.
“The doctor was a crackpot. He’s probably just as messed up as the people he’s trying to treat.”
Keisha frowned. “So, you didn’t even give him a chance.”
“He was creepy. Wanted to know how I felt? Was I sleeping well? And stuff like that.”
Concerned, I held her hand.
Keisha glared at Brooke. “Let me guess, you didn’t tell him anything.”
Brooke patted my hand, then backed away. “Like I said, he was creepy. Tall, skinny, with slicked-back, oily black hair, and a smile that would give me nightmares. I didn’t want to remember him when I feel things.”
Keisha’s frown deepened, but she appeared to be frowning inwardly.
Brooke was frantic to prove her point. “Then he started asking about my friends. ‘Who was the young man who drove you here?’, ‘Who is Grace that set up the appointment for you?’, ‘Are they related?’, ‘Are they trusted friends?’. He seemed more interested in my friends than in helping me. When I was itching to leave, he wrote that script and handed it to me.”
After a long pause, Keisha asked, “Are you going to go back and ask to talk with a different doctor?”
Brooke stared at her hands for a moment. “Maybe he was only a visiting doctor.” She glanced up and saw Keisha nodding at her.
I could tell Brooke couldn’t stand the silence anymore, so she turned on some music. That livened up the evening singing, dancing, and laughing. Keisha brought out the ice cream, and the day's tension began to relax.
“Hey, Big Guy, which flavor do you want? Some of my butter pecan?” With a smooth, sultry voice, Brooke asked, “Or Keisha’s divine triple chocolate?”
Timidly, I responded, “Chocolate, please.”
“Give it a rest, girl. Nothing is going on between us.” Keisha gave me a wink on the sly, and I had to look away.
Brooke sat down with her butter pecan and handed me the chocolate. “Oh, I know. His heart is still elsewhere.”
“Huh?” I said.
Keisha’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward. “You have to tell me about her.”
“What are you talking about?” I gave Brooke a strange sideways glance.
In conspiratorial whispers, Brooke said, “Grace said when he was ten or eleven, she caught him making out with a girl at the childcare center.”
“Really!”
“Oh no, not that story.” I saw Brooke’s smirk and knew she was twisting this all in knots, so I’d have to tell the story. “She kissed me on the cheek.”
Waving her spoon, Brooke prompted me to tell the rest of the story. “Okay, she was eight. I was eleven. She liked to draw. I sat with her and watched her.”
“And she liked you watching her draw,” Brooke interrupted. Keisha was eating up the story with each bite of ice cream.
“Sure. When we had to leave, she gave me a picture.”
“Of them holding hands.” Brooke’s eyes sparkled.
I frowned as I finished the story. “I fished in the prize bin and gave her a purple toy ring.”
Keisha interjected. “And she kissed you on the cheek. Oh, she’s never gonna forget you. Where is she now? You’re about twenty, which makes her seventeen.” She couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear.
Looking down, I said, “I don’t know. We had to leave and start a new life, leaving everyone behind.”
The sappy smiles disappeared. Keisha asked, “What do you mean ‘start a new life’?”
Brooke gave me a side hug and, with our cheeks pressed together, stared at Keisha. “Jake is his superhero name, but he has a secret identity.”
Just like that, she pulled her into our inner circle of friends.