My Bad Boy's Diary

~Fifty-Eight~ ghosts of the past

I put my back to a tombstone and slid down to the base.

I came to the historical cemetery on campus when I needed to be alone, to clear my head. It was a tranquil place to study and no one ever bothered me here...

"Hey, girl, thought I'd find you here."

I looked up sharply and lost all my air when I saw who it was, walking up the aisle of grave-headers towards me.

I scrambled to my feet, prepared to run if I had to.

"It's okay, I know you don't wanna talk to me." Dalton said with an unruly grin. He was wearing the same sort of attire as I remembered him in, but his hair was trimmed a little shorter now. He had lost all the softness of childhood and his face was chiseled and angular beneath the light dusting of facial hair.

I was staring and I made myself look away.

"I just...I have something for you." He stopped a few feet from me and held his gift out to me.

Arms folded, I glanced down at the object.

It was wrapped in brown paper, but it was the shape and size of a large book.

"It's my journal, thought I'd save you the trouble of stealing it this time." He held it out to me expectantly. "I'm kidding. Look, if you wanna burn it, that's up to you, I just thought you had the right to know what I've been doing for the past four years, eleven months, and 16 hours. Not that anyone's been counting." He set the brown paper package down on top of a nearby gravestone. "I like your hair, by the way. Well, guess I'll see you around, Martins."

I touched my hair self-consciously as I watched him walk away.

"I don't care what it says." I shouted after him impulsively.

Dalton paused and looked back at me, eyebrow arced.

I flushed. "Your stupid diary; I don't care what it says. I'll never accept your apology, I'll never forgive you. You left me and you never so much as called!"

"I told you I wouldn't." He held my eyes for one last moment. "I've thought about you every day since I left you, Brooklyn."

I steeled myself to the onslaught of emotion these words brought with them. "Oh, well, thank God for that!" I snapped. "That makes everything okay then. That'll keep me warm at night for many years to come, I'm sure."

He gave me a look like I was being childish and I seriously considered trying to murder him with my bare hands right then.

"I'm glad to see you've gained some emotional perspective since the last time we spoke. Goodbye, Brooklyn."

I growled softly in frustration as I watched him walking away, having successfully had the last word, damn him.

I almost stormed off and left his diary sitting there on the tombstone, but at the last second I snatched it up and took the package with me.

###

I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and stared at the brown paper package as I angrily chewed.

My roommate, Tara, wasn't home, and Alec was at BestBuy, where he currently worked.

I would be alone for hours...

After I finished my sandwich, I took a shower, I did the dishes, I tried to study, I paced my room and tossed my stress ball between the floor and the wall and myself, the floor, the wall, and myself...

I had this odd feeling coming over me.

I knew this feeling, it had ruled my life once. I had been clean for almost three years now...

But once an addict, always an addict.

This feeling was unlike any other. It made me lightheaded, it made my heart beat irregularly; it made me feel painfully, gloriously alive.

I hadn't even realized how dead I'd felt until this very moment. Until Dalton had come along again to strum my nerve endings back to life...

With shaking fingers, I ripped open the brown paper packaging and sat down at the edge of my bed.

I held the old leather bound journal in my hands. I could still choose not to open it, not to read it; not to get tangled back up in Dalton's insidious web again.

I knew better; I had grown up, I had matured, I had gotten past this.

I opened the cover of the book.

'Property of Dalton Patricelli.

Dedicated to: Brooklyn R. Martins.'

I stared down at those words, that familiar scrawling handwriting, and felt something inside me turn over.

Then I turned the next page and read, and read and read, for hours. Until it was late into the night and Tara got home and asked me why I wasn't in bed.

I had completely neglected my studies, reading Dalton's journal. I couldn't help it; it was almost all about me.

~*~*~*~

I've always loved the scene in "Pride and Prejudice" when Mr. Darcy gives Elizabeth the letter explaining everything. This scene was strongly inspired by that one.

Hope everyone enjoys it as much as I did!

What do you think Brooklyn should do? Read the journal or get rid of it? Poor girl, I wouldn't want to be in her shoes...LOL!

Happy summer reading, everyone!

HRH