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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Are-Are You Sorry?


I've never been one of those people that apologies come easily to. I mean, I don't mean to be one of those people, it's just how I am. I like to be right and when I'm wrong I'm too stubborn to admit it. I like to think I apologize easily, though, and if directly asked I'll usually say that I do. Even though I totally don't. Usually, apologies are only just barely easier than pulling teeth. So apologizing in front of the entire viewing audience of Ellen, which was inflated by all the Blockheads -- and by now, thanks to the power of Twitter, probably most of my own fan base, was a huge ass step for me.

A step that I wasn't sure how to take now that I'd gotten myself the platform.

I looked around at the bright lights and stuff, at the audience. There was a palpable feeling of anticipation as everyone waited for me to speak my piece. But it was like every word that I'd rehearsed and scripted for myself flew out of my brain now that I was on the spot.

I looked over at Becky.

She was getting up.

"Don't go," I said. Ricky was holding her purse as she climbed over the girls in the seats blocking her access to the aisle. She started to trot up the steps, toward the exit of the studio. I stood up. "Becky, please." Heads turned to look at her and she froze on the steps and turned around slowly. She stared at me. "Don't go."

She bit her lips.

"Becky, I made a mistake. I should've told you the truth a long time before I did... I should've never have agreed to any stupid bet. I hurt so many people and in the pursuit of What I Want all my life and I feel so... guilty... for that, for not thinking about other people. And I'm sorry, not just to you, but to every girl I've ever done wrong to. And I know there's a lot of them... I know there's more reasons to feel guilty than any amount of guilt I could possibly feel." I shook my head, "I know I don't deserve a second chance, I know I don't deserve your trust after what I did... but..." I took a deep breath and I looked down at my sneakers, "Becky, you didn't know my name, or my occupation, exactly, but you knew me. The me that's under all that, the me that nobody else knows." I could feel tears falling from my eyes, rolling across my cheeks. "I am... so... incredibly sorry..." I choked, "Please... forgive me. Give me a chance to prove to you how much I love you."

I looked up.

But she'd left.

I stared at the spot where she'd been feeling like my guts had been ripped out of me.

"So wait a minute, you lied about your name and your occupation to women to sleep with them?" Ellen said. The audience looked torn between shock, horror, amusement, and even anger. A select few were staring at the door Becky had gone through, the ones near where she'd been even had looks of pity.

I nodded wordlessly to answer Ellen's question. "But I'm more sorry than anyone could ever know," I said thickly. The lights of the studio set were bright and hot and I suddenly felt like a cornered animal, like I was choking. My shirt became too tight at my neck. I grabbed for it, pulling it away from my skin. "I'm sorry..." I said, "I'm so sorry." I had to get out of those lights. The New Kids were all staring at me, everyone but Donnie looking shocked, too. Donnie was looking at his knees, a sad expression on his face.

I quickly climbed over the coffee table and ran for the door the audience members that had seen Becky leave were looking at. I launched myself through it and into a long hallway. I ran down the hall, out the door and into the California sunshine, which was too bright too fast and blinded me for a moment. I dashed down the sidewalk and pulled my shirt off as I went. Finally I jogged to a stop a couple blocks away, bent down, and gasped for air.

Slowly the city sounds and atmosphere melted back into perspective as I stood there. Honking car horns, talking people, laughing people, street musicians, air traffic, the smell of smog and hot cement. I caught my breath and I stood up and swiped my eyes with the back of my hand. Some people were glancing at me, obviously worried about the weird guy that had burst onto the scene and stood there breathing all funny for a few moments. I ducked away before they could recognize me.

I felt horrible, like I imagine those hollow chocolate bunnies at Easter would feel if they were alive. Like the pitiful ones you see at Walmart that were stocked too low on the shelf and a toddler got hold of them and smooshed them in and the tin foil bends in and the chocolates all broken and nobody ever buys the bunny and he's thrown away and never lives up to his full potential of being prominently displayed in some Easter basket... I felt all pushed in and broken and thrown away, too. And the worst part was it was my own damn fault.

When I got home I laid down on the bed, curled into the pillow, smashing my face into it, and closed my eyes. I stayed like that until I couldn't breathe and I moved my head enough to expose my nose, smooshing the pillow into a new position.

A glimmer caught my eye.

I opened my eyes and inspected the glimmer. It was a necklace, one I hadn't seen before. A locket. I pulled it closer and clicked the little locket open. Inside was a picture of a woman who, although I didn't know her personally, I could knew who it was. It was Becky's mom. I closed the locket and held it in my fist.

I got up and carried the locket down to my studio. Fishing through the drawers, I found an envelope and I slid the locket inside and sealed it, then scrolled Becky across the front. I grabbed my keys and drove to Becky's house. I parked out front and walked over to the mailbox. The door opened just as I was opening the mail box to shove the envelope inside. It was Bradley, but he didn't have the light saber this time. He ran across the lawn, his legs and arms flailing awkwardly like a little kid. He reached the edge of the lawn and stared at me for a long moment.

"Wh-what are you d-doing?" he stammered.

"I found something of Becky's at my house," I answered. I looked at the envelope then, instead of putting it in the mailbox, I held it out to Bradley. "Make sure she gets it." He didn't take it. He glanced at it, but he didn't take it.

"I saw y-you on - on the Teee Veeee," he said, drawing out the letters. "Y-you were wi-with the New K-Kids on the B-Block. They're my Becky's fave-ritt." He pronounced the last word funny.

I nodded. "They're friends of mine, I guess. Becky was there, too." I shook the envelope, but he still didn't take it.

"Th-they showed my Becky," he answered.

"They did?" I hadn't noticed any cameras aiming her direction.

"Y-yes, when you - you were saying sorry."

"Oh," I said.

Bradley's eyes narrowed. "Are-are you sorry?"

I nodded sincerely.

Bradley reached out and took the envelope from my hands. "I-I will give th-this to my B-Becky," he said, and he turned on his heels and rushed into the house, leaving me there on the side of the street.

"Thanks Bradley," I said, long after he'd disappeared into the house. I went back to my car and got in. I was pulling my seatbelt across my chest when the house door opened again.