~chapter twenty-two: sighs and bright skies
"Brian!" The music faded out, and Fatima looked at him coldly. "I'm a pretty tolerant person, most of the time, but this is getting out of hand!"
He hung his head, and avoided the curious stares.
"Now come on," she scolded. "Pay attention!" The dancers held solemn faces and everyone watched Brian. Fatima tapped her toe impatiently. "Let's go again," she said a little softer. "From the top."
The music re-started, and Fatima counted off eight beats. In almost perfect unison the entire troupe began the dance. Brian quickly lost count of the steps, and fell off time. He watched the mirror until he located a familiar step, and tried to get back in to the dance, but he was unsuccessful.
With a disappointed look, Fatima cut the music again. "Get some water," she instructed everyone softly. Brian turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm. "Not you," Fatima said seriously.
Brian winced, and he could practically envision the speech that was coming. 'What's up with you? You're never like this...'. "Blah, blah, blah." He scowled.
Nick swigged back a drink of water, and leaned against the door frame. Brian had his head sagged in his hands, and Fatima was sorting through papers. Something was really wrong, Nick thought to himself.
Brian, the rock, the back bone of the group, was off. No matter what had ever happened, Brian refused to let anyone fall below their potential. He was the one who encouraged the underdog, and made sure that no body felt out of place. He never let anything ruin his focus, he was always the one to depend on if you were lost. 'Just look at Brian,' Fatima had told everyone. 'If you get lost, look at Brian.' That was the way it had always been. Kevin interrupted Nick's thoughts.
"This is so weird," Kevin marvelled. "Brian is never like this."
"I know," Nick agreed. "I have never seen him screw up so quickly, so much."
Rachel joined the conversation, and Nick wrapped an arm around her waist affectionately. "It's almost scary," she commented softly.
"Not almost," Nick corrected. "It is scary. This is Brian we're talking about... sweet little Brian who calls him mom twice a month just to check up. Brian who puts his soul in to everything he does." Nick shook his head a bit. "Something is seriously wrong."
The two men looked in at their 'brother'. "I just wish I could help..." Kevin whispered sadly.
Brian was now massaging his temples, listening to Fatima talk but obviously not absorbing a word of it. She shook his shoulders, and Brian pushed her away roughly. "I don't need this from you," he said harshly, and she recoiled her arm in surprise.
"What's up with you?" She asked, a little scared by the reaction she'd extracted. Never, not once in the six or seven years she'd known Brian, had he ever gotten mad at her. "Is everything okay?"
He was silent.
"You know I'm here," Fatima encouraged sympathetically. "It always helps to talk."
For a minute he actually considered telling her everything. It would feel so good to free himself of all the pain that weighed him down.
"I care about you, Brian, I want to know what's wrong." She had her eyebrows knit together, and gingerly she touched his arm. "You're off in all your steps, Nick said that vocal practice was even worse. You're listless, you're being rude, you're unpleasent, and-"
"Don't sit here and list all my goddamn faults," he seethed. Standing up, Brian stalked to the other side of the room.
Nick, Rachel, and Kevin looked up in shock. Fatima glanced at them helplessly.
"I don't need your shit right now," Brian muttered coldly. If Fatima had heard this she probably would have cried. The anger in Brian's voice signified that he meant every word he was saying. He could see some of the dancers watching him out of the corner of his eye, and Fatima and Nick were whispering between each other quietly. Grabbing his sweater, Brian pushed past the line of people at the water fountain. A few curious pairs of eyes lingered on him, but one cold, angry stare from Brian eliminated that.
He walked out in to the cool February air, and breathed in deeply. Though there was not one cloud in sight, and the sun was shining brightly, the air was chilled. The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked along. He sighed unhappily. It was two days until he left, and nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Brian just couldn't seem to get any of the steps right, and Nick was right: vocal had been even worse, off tune and off time. He tried to imagine the frustration that the four other guys had been feeling, but couldn't. And the most awful thing was Dana wasn't there. There was a soft roar of traffic coming up from the highway that ran a few hundred feet away, and it bounced around in his brain.
He sighed again. It was more a sigh of depression than anything. At that moment he wanted to be anybody but 'Backstreet' Brian. He wanted to be Brian that could drive away and nobody would freak out. He wanted to be Brian that could take his girlfriend out and not have to worry about press, or public. He wanted to be Brian that could cry, and look to someone else for help. Most of all, he wanted to be Brian that had Dana. The Brian that he had been a matter of days ago.
He fished for his car keys, and extracted the metal ball after a few seconds of searching. Dragging the soles of his shoes across the parking lot, Brian pursed his lips. Finally reaching his car, he stared at his reflection in the drivers side window. His eyes were sallow, he hadn't shaved lately, and his hair was ruffled. "Good God." He sighed for a third time and unlocked the car door. Locking the doors again, Brian leaned his head against the steering wheel and prayed that he could be graced with much needed sleep. His prayers were answered within a matter of minutes.
- - -the same day- - -
Dana stared out her third story window into the blinding sun. She was lonely. Her forehead left a grease mark on the clear window pane, and she wiped it away with her sleeve.
"You should really get your mind off of him," Brette encouraged. "Don't think about it."
Dana just rested her forehead against the glass again. The clouds drifted lazily across the sky.
"Come on, I'll take you out to a movie," Brette smiled. "We can go see the 'Tigger Movie'... you love Tigger."
"No thanks," Dana murmured. She noticed a cloud shaped like a dragon, and another shaped like a bagel, with a hole in the middle and everything.
"D'you wanna go dancing? I can call Curtis, and you can call... Rob or someone, and we can all go dancing?" Brette's voice was hopeful, but she doubted her pleas would make a dent in Dana's unhappy mood.
She shook her head. "No thank you," she repeated.
"What about renting a movie?"
"Brette, I don't want to do anything." Dana spoke softly, as if loud voices would break her in half.
Brette was ambigious. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
Brette tip toed away. Reaching for the portable phone, she eased the front door open and stepped in to the hall so Dana wouldn't hear the ensuing conversation. She pressed *54, and call trace kicked in. While waiting, Brette tried to ignore the thought of the charges that would appear on the phone bill next month. Finally, the voice came on and announced the origin of the last call.
She repeated the number a couple of times, and then hung up. Dialing quickly so she wouldn't forget any numbers, Brette held the phone anxiously.
"Hello?" The voice was hushed.
"It's Brette," she whispered, then checked to make sure Dana wasn't in the living room.
"Hi. So how is she?"
"How is he?" Brette asked at the same time.
The both laughed a bit. "I don't know, I haven't seen him since he ran out of rehersal about two hours ago."
Brette raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That bad?"
"Worse," replied the voice. "What about her? Is she doing okay?"
"No." Brette sighed. "Not at all."
"What are we gonna do?"
"I don't know. There isn't much time, so whatever we do we better do it soon."
"Yeah. How about tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow when?" Then, as an afterthought, she added: "And where?"
"No, make that two days from now. Bring her to the airport, and they can see eachother before they leave. Say you have to meet a friend, or something."
"Dana won't go near an airport," Brette stated firmly. "She hates planes and anything that has to do with flying."
"You better get her there," came the prompt reply. "That's the only way that they'll see each other."
"I'm telling you, she won't go near-" The phone clicked off. "God, people are so stubborn," Brette scowled. It would be one hell of a task getting Dana to go to the airport willingly.
~chapter twenty-three - part one~
~chapter index~
