Taken (7 page)

Things don’t get better the next week. The pace of planning seems to accelerate at the same rate as Brandon’s filming schedule. I think I’ve seen him less than ten hours in the last three days, leaving us no time to resolve the argument from the other night. And on top of everything else, the show’s first episode is set to air tonight and that is making everyone even more on edge.

The only good thing is that most of the planning is done, and the list of scenes left to film is dwindling down. That, and my mother finally went back to Seattle to stay with Valerie, so at least she isn’t here scrutinizing our every move.

This afternoon we are attempting to film Brandon and me practicing our first dance, per my frantic suggestion at the bakery. We are doing it in the living room and it’s not going well. There is no chemistry or connection and we are both stumbling over each other. We have been trying for hours and can’t seem to get on the same rhythm.

What was supposed to be a sweet, whimsical scene of us together is turning into a painful battle. Literally…

“Ouch. Brandon, that’s my foot. That’s the step where you go back.”

“Well, maybe if you would let me lead it would go better,” he snarls back.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead offer up my hands again. He pulls me to him roughly and we start again. Less than ten steps in and we’re off track again.

“Ugh, this isn’t working,” I say. I step back and run my fingers through my hair.

“Well…maybe if you hadn’t skipped your dance lessons,” Kira says in a sickening, sing-song voice.

“Not helping, Kira,” I say.

“All I’m saying is that Ricardo could have sorted you two out like this,” she says, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

“Everyone out!” Brandon roars.

Everyone in the room seems to jump at once and scatter from the room. There is a rush of noise as they scramble to leave, but within minutes it’s silent.

The huge room seems incredibly small, even though it is just the two of us.

“What the hell Brandon? Now they all know something is wrong.”

He looks at me like I’m completely deranged. “You don’t think they already picked up on that? We’ve been going at each other all day.”

I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know!”

Logically, I know they all know. Emotionally, I am hoping they are all really oblivious. It’s possible I’m a little bit in denial right now.

“We have to get it together.”

“I know.” I rub my temples and close my eyes. “I just need it all to stop.”

“Well it won’t.”

Thank you Captain Obvious.

“What is this even all about? Are you still pissed because of what I said the other night?”

For an intelligent man, he can be really, really dense sometimes.

“Of course it is! Our wedding is turning into a complete nightmare. You don’t want to be here; I don’t want to be here. None of this is going how I want. Not that it seems to matter what I want, or how I pictured everything. I get steamrolled at every turn. These people are everywhere, all the time. I can’t breathe. It’s suffocating me.

“The only thing that would make this entire fiasco slightly more tolerable, is if you were here. But you’re not. You’re always gone, and you just pop in and out to make an appearance and do your lines. Our life has turned into nothing more than just another movie for you. You show up, play your part, and then you’re gone again.

Hot tears of frustration spill down my cheeks and my voice loses control as I continue.

“But the thing is Brandon, this isn’t a movie. This is real life. This is our wedding. It’s supposed to be the happiest, most beautiful, special day of our lives and it’s a mess. A giant, horrific, gaudy mess.”

“And watching it all fall apart is just one more reminder that the way we live is not normal! Brandon, how can you not see that?” I pause and take a deep breath, desperately willing the tears to stop so I can focus. “This is completely insane. All of it.”

“What do you want me to do Charity? What do you
expect
me to do?” His voice is sharp, and I close my eyes against the harshness of his tone. “I can’t control everything. Hell, right now, I can’t control anything. I don’t have any say over my work schedule. I didn’t even ask to be on this show! As for the wedding, it’s not exactly what I want either, but whatever, it works.”

I reel back, my eyes pop open again. “Whatever, it works? Gee, that’s romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” he says.

“No, I’m not so sure I do. That’s the second comment you’ve made like that and I’m seriously beginning to wonder if you even want to go through with this. If you even want to get married.”

I stare him down, desperately hoping he jumps in to correct me. To assure me that calling off the wedding is the last thing on his mind.

He’s silent.

My heart is beating so fast and hard I can practically feel each pulse reverberating through my body.

“I’m so angry right now that I can’t even look at you. I need a break,” I say, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

“So what are you going to do? Leave? Run back to Seattle?”

“No, I’m not leaving. I wouldn’t want to disappoint your adoring fans. And come to think of it, leaving is probably strictly forbidden in some sort of paperwork I signed somewhere along the way!”

I hear how ridiculous the statement is as soon as it’s out of my mouth, but I don’t bother to correct it. He throws his hands up and flops down on the couch.

Half of me wants to reach out and throttle him, and the other half wants to collapse into his arms and erase the last week from both of our memories and go back to the way it was before.

He doesn’t say anything else, and I can’t stand the silence for another moment. I pivot on my heel and stalk out of the room. “Tell Kira I’m off the clock tonight,” I yell back over my shoulder.

I go upstairs and lock myself in our bedroom. I pace around the room, ranting to myself, feeling like a caged tiger. Barely fifteen minutes pass before there is a knock on the door.

“Kira, I’m not in the mood. I’m done for the night,” I yell.

“It’s Ashley.”

I turn and open the door and she comes in and locks it behind her again.

“Sorry.”

“Totally understandable.”

“So, how much of that did everyone hear?”

“You want the truth?”

“Probably not.”

She nods in agreement with my decision and sits on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shrug. “I don’t even really know what to say anymore. This whole thing just got so messed up, so fast. The day Brandon proposed was the best day of my life.”

“The first or second time?” Ashley asks.

I shoot her a look.

“Okay, okay, too soon. Sorry. Continue.”

“I never thought it would be like this. We should be so crazy, stupid happy right now, but instead we’re barely talking to each other, and when we do it seems forced. I mean we couldn’t even dance together. That’s a pretty bad sign! Like some sort of marriage readiness test. If you can’t even agree on how to dance at your wedding, chances are, you shouldn’t be getting married.”

“All right, I’m going to stop you right there,” Ashley interrupts. “You and Brandon are perfect for each other. And you know it. Does it suck right now? Yes. But you two are in the middle of very, very complicated and stressful circumstances. You need to give him a break, but you also need to give yourself a break.”

I nod. She’s right, but I’m not really sure how to apply her advice. Everything is on turbo mode right now, and I don’t have any power to slow it down. It’s like Brandon said…no control.

“Listen, I’m going to get rid of all the people and leave you two alone for the night. I have some work I need to catch up on anyway. Take some time and just be together.”

“Thanks Ash.”

She gives me a quick hug and leaves the room.

I stay behind for a little while and process through everything, trying to untangle it all in my mind so I can think a little clearer.

When I go downstairs, the house is completely empty. I go from room to room looking for Brandon, but he’s not here. When I circle back to the kitchen I notice that his keys and phone aren’t in their usual place. I check the garage and sure enough, he’s gone.

I don’t know if he’s at work or just out. It doesn’t really matter.

I contemplate my options, I could call him and ask him to come back, but if he’s not ready to talk, that probably won’t solve much.

With a sigh, I go back upstairs and head to Ashley’s room. I reach for the doorknob but stop short when I hear her giggle on the other side. I stand and eavesdrop long enough to piece together that she is talking to Drew. I smile to myself and back away to give her some privacy.

In the end, I decide to go to bed and watch some TV. I’m flipping through the channels when I land on the intro for our show.

Hollywood Sweethearts: Brandon and Charity.

The video montage shows us snuggled up together, kissing, holding hands, and laughing together as a sweet love song plays in the background.

In all the drama, I had forgotten that tonight was the premier of the first episode. I mentally debate whether or not to keep watching. I decide against it and flip off the TV completely. It’s just too much right now.

It’s too painful be reminded of how far things have fallen since we recorded those initial interviews.

It’s still dark when the sound of an alarm echoes through the room. I open one eye and see Brandon’s form lying across the bed. The sound keeps going and I reach over and give him a sharp elbow to the ribs and mumble for him to make it stop. I feel him shift and the next thing I know, he’s shuffling towards the bathroom and it sounds like he’s on the phone.

Probably some production assistant, demanding that he get back to the set.

I roll my eyes and press them closed, determined to go back to sleep before he has a chance to come back in and start up a conversation with me.

“Cherry. Cherry, wake up, please.” I don’t know how much time has passed when his voice rouses me. I keep my eyes closed, breathing even, and pretend not to hear him. “Baby, please, I need you.”

My eyes pop open at this last line, worry flooding my system. “What is it?” I ask, sitting up halfway. The bathroom door is open and the light illuminates his face. Instantly I know something is very, very wrong. “Brandon? What’s wrong?”

He grabs me in his arms and his grip is tight and intense. He is still for a moment, and then he trembles slightly as he breaks down into tears.

“Brandon?” I’m starting to panic but I keep my voice calm.

“Dad just called,” he begins.

I suck in a sharp breath, willing him not to say the next thing.

“My mom is in the hospital. It…” his voice fades away for a moment. “I don’t know what happened. She collapsed and they don’t know why.”

It feels like there is no air left in the room—like a balloon that suddenly deflates all in a single whoosh.

I don’t know what to say. It seems that nothing that comes to my mind is even enough to begin to express my sadness, so I stay silent. I hold him and he holds me even tighter.

After a long time passes, I feel his arms loosen slightly and he pulls back so we are face-to-face again. We lock eyes for a long moment and seem to silently communicate our thoughts to each other.

“I’m going to pack. You book the flight,” I say.

He nods. “Thank you.”

I lean forward and press my lips to his. He reaches up and softly takes my face in his hands as we linger in the moment. All the anger and tension and pain from the past few days seems to be erased. We are back on the same side. United.

When our lips separate, he rests his forehead against mine. “I love you.”

“I love you too. We are going to make it through this.”

He nods and gives me one last kiss before rising from the bed. After he leaves the room, I go about getting dressed, and then start to pack two bags.

***

Three hours later, Brandon and I are parked at the curb of LAX surveying the clusters of paparazzi standing around the doors leading into the airport. I know it’s the last thing Brandon wants to deal with right now. He pulls his baseball cap lower over his face and slides on his sunglasses. I’m wearing a silky scarf and I use it to shield my face as we exit the car. He reaches back and grabs my hand tightly. Our efforts to sneak by unrecognized are useless. Suddenly there is yelling and catcalls as a swarm of photographers swoop in to block our path. Brandon’s grip on my hand tightens and he pulls me closer to him. He snakes his arm around my waist and holds tightly as we press through everyone.

Eventually we break through and are able to enter the airport where security helps free us from the mess. All we have is one duffle bag, so we don’t have to wait to check baggage and are immediately escorted through the security lines instead. We wait in one of the private lounges for boarding to begin. The room is nearly empty, and the handful of people that are present don't pay any attention to us.

Brandon can’t sit down. He paces back and forth in front of me. I try to get him to sit down and drink some water, but he resists my best efforts, so I stay silent and let him do what he needs to do, no matter how painful it is to watch. His every worry and thought is etched in the lines surrounding his eyes. He checks his phone every three seconds, even though I am sure he has the volume turned as high as it will go and it hasn’t made a sound.

Just before we are scheduled to board the flight, the phone goes off and Brandon jumps like a gun just went off. In his hurry, he fumbles and the phone drops to the floor. I lean forward, swipe it up, and hand it to him, brushing my fingers against his, hoping to offer some sort of comfort.

“Hello,” he answers. “Okay. Okay.”

I hate only hearing one side of the conversation.

“We’re getting on the plane now. Tell her we’re on the way. We’ll be there—”

He nods along at whatever the person on the other line is saying. “Okay. Tell her I love her.”

He clicks off the call and melts into the chair next to me, finally spent. I rub his back as he leans forward with his face in his hands. I feel so ridiculously helpless right now. I don’t know how to take this pain and anxiety away from him.

“She’s awake, but they still don’t know what’s wrong.”

I nod, unsure of what to say.

“They’re running tests right now,” he adds.

“I’m sure they know best. You made sure she had the best care possible.” Brandon has been very involved with making sure his mom has all the best doctors and expert opinions. When he first learned of her breast cancer diagnosis, he dove in headfirst to make sure everything was on the right track. I hope reminding him of that offers him some peace.

We don’t speak again as we leave the lounge area and head for the flight. We get priority boarding in first class. To avoid causing a scene, we hunker down in our seats, while everyone else boards. Luckily, no one seems to pay much attention to us and before long, the flight is leaving the runway.

It’s a short flight to Seattle and we are able to immediately catch a cab to take us to the hospital.

We race to the room and find his dad, Rick, sitting in the corner chair of Sandy’s room. She is sleeping in the hospital bed and looks peaceful. I am so relieved to see her, and to find that my worst-case scenario mental image of her is nowhere near reality.

Brandon and his dad embrace, both men struggling to keep themselves together.

“How is she?” Brandon asks as they break apart.

Rick crosses the room and gives me a hug. “She’s stable. She collapsed at home and I couldn’t get her…I couldn’t get her to wake up. I called 911 and she was out for quite a while after we got here. The doctor thinks it might be some sort of reaction to one of her new medications. They’ve taken a lot of blood samples and are monitoring everything.” He waves at the machines that are recording all her vitals. “She woke up for a little while and the boys got to talk to her. Of course, the first thing she said was ‘sorry for scaring y’all.’”

Through my tears, I laugh as I picture her saying just that.

“Where are Steve and Marky now?” Brandon asks. He sinks down into the chair his dad had been sitting in, and I can tell he feels relieved.

“They went to get some food. You can call and have them get you something too. The food here,” he drops his voice to a whisper, “it’s nothing to write home about, let’s leave it at that.”

I laugh again and Brandon smiles.

Watching him relax and smile, I take a deep breath. It feels like it’s the first full breath I’ve taken since the early morning phone call.

“You hungry Cherry?” Brandon asks.

I shake my head.

“I’m sure she will be awake again soon. The doctor will be back in about an hour to check in. I’m going to go take a little walk, if you don’t mind,” Rick says.

“Sure, Dad. We’ll stay here with her.”

Rick nods and gives me another long embrace. “Sure is good to see you 1arling’.”

He releases me and leaves the room. I sit down next to Brandon and he instantly takes my hand. It’s weird to think that less than twenty-four hours ago, we could barely be in the same room without snarling at each other.

“She’s going to be all right,” Brandon says to no one in particular, almost as if he’s simply reassuring himself.

I nod in agreement. “Yeah, she is.”

We sit in silence for a while, listening to the beeps of the monitoring equipment. I wish Sandy would wake up. When Sandy is in a room, it’s never quiet; she’s always so full of life and laughter.

The adrenaline rush from this morning has worn off and I’m starting to feel the crash. Brandon is still holding onto my hand, yet I’m starting to feel the distance that has become all too familiar between us lately. There seems to be so much to say, but I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to unravel everything that is swirling around inside my mind.

It’s like being stuck in mental quicksand. The harder I try to figure it out, the more confusing it becomes.

I don’t know if I’m still angry at Brandon for the hurtful things he said about our wedding, or if I just feel sad and disappointed about how everything is turning out. On the one hand, I can’t handle anyone attacking our wedding; on the other, I find myself agreeing with them.

I’m still struggling through my thoughts, when a nurse comes in to tend to Sandy. She is very kind and assures us that everything is fine before suggesting we go get a cup of coffee while we wait. Brandon thanks her and leads me from the room, giving the nurse space to work. We end up wandering down the corridors, until we find a little alcove with a nice bench and a large window that displays the cityscape.

Brandon wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.

“How did any of this even happen?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“With us, Cherry. How did any of this happen?”

“I have no idea,” I answer, leaning my head down on his shoulder. “Movies always make it look so much simpler than this. You know, you and your kind are really sending some mixed messages into the world.”

Brandon laughs softly. “Very true.”

I’m silent, unsure what to say next. I look around the corridor as I think. My gaze lands on a big sign and suddenly it all makes sense.

“You know what all hospitals have?” I ask.

“Really terrible food?”

“Besides that,” I answer.

Brandon glances at me, an eyebrow raised in question.

“They all have a chapel!”

He’s not connecting the dots. In fact, he looks more confused than before my declaration.

“Brandon, marry me.”

“That’s kinda what I’ve been trying to do for a while now, Cherry.” He laughs again.

“No, I mean here.” I point up at the sign where it says CHAPEL in big blue lettering, just down the hall from where we are sitting.

He silently considers the sign and then stands up purposefully. He reaches back to take my hand and I stand up too. I let him lead me around the corner and we follow the signs until there is a section of wall with stained glass windows and wooden doors. We look at each other for a long moment, before he pushes open the door and we enter the room.

It’s small and there really isn’t anything remarkable about it. And yet, it’s breathtaking. As soon as we step inside, it’s like a wave of peace hits me and travels all over my body. I feel calm.

Which hasn’t happened in a very, very long time.

“It’s perfect,” we both say at the same time.