Chasing Brooklyn Read online

  with DOG DOC on the vanity plates,

  I walk over with two cups of steaming hot coffee

  and hand her one.

  She smiles and says, “Thanks.”

  “Much better,” I say.

  “What?” she asks.

  “A smile. Instead of tears.”

  She nods. “Yeah. It is.”

  Fri., Jan. 20th—Brooklyn

  Did he really bring me

  coffee?

  Fortunately, the caffeine

  isn’t all that necessary

  this morning.

  I slept really well last night.

  No dreams.

  Thank God, no dreams.

  Today, I feel good.

  As we’re walking inside,

  I say, “Thanks again, Nico.

  That was really nice of you.”

  He smiles his million-dollar smile.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He is nice.

  And I can’t help but think,

  just like his brother.

  Fri., Jan. 20th—Nico

  We swim for a while

  then I get out to watch her.

  I’m relieved she’s a strong swimmer.

  It can be the trickiest part of the race.

  Her strokes are as smooth

  as the coffee we just drank

  I give her a few tips on knowing

  when and how often to take breaths.

  She glides through the water,

  adjusting her breaths like I told her.

  Perfect.

  Absolutely perfect.

  Fri., Jan. 20th—Brooklyn

  In the pool

  the water washes

  over me and inside

  my worries

  about Lucca,

  about Gabe,

  about my family,

  about school

  about life

  wash

  away.

  Some mothers

  do their birthing

  in water.

  Some patients

  do their therapy

  in water.

  Some children

  do their playing

  in water.

  It is gentle.

  It is soothing.

  It is forgiving.

  It is just what I needed

  today.

  Fri., Jan. 20th—Nico

  On our way out,

  I say, “Brooklyn, about that party—”

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m not going.

  I won’t lie. I thought about it.”

  She looks at me and smiles.

  I love the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles.

  “Tuesday, when they asked me?” she says.

  “I wanted to go. Maybe even yesterday,

  I wanted to go.

  But now, right now, in this moment,

  after that awesome workout?

  I don’t want to go.

  And I can’t wait for tomorrow, Nico.

  See you then.”

  She walks away and I breathe

  a big, heavy, deep

  sigh of relief.

  Fri., Jan. 20th—Brooklyn

  After dinner,

  listening to the Joy, Not Sorrow CD,

  I’m safe in the lair

  that is my room.

  The place

  I’ve always felt safest.

  Where it’s just me

  and my thoughts

  and my letters to Lucca.

  Safe, that is,

  until he visits me

  outside of my dreams.

  Sitting in my chair,

  writing in my notebook,

  a cold, invisible feather

  tickles my cheek.

  A soft brush

  of whispers

  strokes my hair.

  There is nothing to see.

  Nothing to hear.

  But I know with all my being

  Gabe is with me

  in my lair.

  And I have to wonder,

  is this God’s way

  of kicking me out?

  #287

  Dear Lucca,

  I hate this. What have I done to deserve this? I don’t know.

  But I feel so alone and like there will be no end to this madness. I mean, how does it all end?

  Love always,

  Brooklyn

  Fri., Jan. 20th—Nico

  Something urges me

  to go.

  A feeling.

  A hunch.

  A voice that says, “She’s there.”

  Even if she said this morning

  she wouldn’t go, things change.

  Sunny one minute, pouring the next,

  we’re all like Mother Nature

  when it comes right down to it.

  So I make some calls,

  find out where the party is, and I go.

  I spot her dad’s car, parked on the street,

  a head behind the wheel.

  I knock on the window and she rolls it down.

  Tears are streaming down her face.

  “What are you doing here, Brooklyn?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, her face filled with sadness,

  it actually pains me to look at it.

  “I don’t know,” she whispers.

  I open the door and pull her to her feet.

  She reaches up and grabs hold of me,

  and so we stand there, just holding each other.

  Sunny one minute.

  Pouring the next.

  Sat., Jan. 21st—Brooklyn

  “I’m going for a run,”

  I tell my dad.

  “A run? When did that start?”

  “Last week.

  Just trying something different.”

  “You know, a dog would be

  something different,” he says.

  It makes me smile.

  Can’t blame the guy for trying.

  When I see Nico at the track,

  he doesn’t say anything about last night,

  and I’m glad for that.

  I don’t know what happened.

  Looking for something

  in the wrong place, I guess.

  At least it was another night

  of no dreams.

  I run faster.

  Gotta make sure

  I’m good and tired tonight.

  Sat., Jan. 21st—Nico

  We’re running the track

  and I can’t help but think

  it feels like

  she’s running from something.

  Or someone.

  I glance behind us.

  But of course, nothing’s there.

  After all,

  aren’t the scariest things in life

  those things you can’t see?

  Sat., Jan. 21st—Brooklyn

  As we walk to our cars,

  I ask Nico, “What was the name of your dog?”

  “Wow,” he says. “That’s random.”

  “My dad’s been wanting to get one.

  And I was thinking about Lucca.

  How he said he never wanted another one.”

  He nods.

  Looks up at the sky as we hear a rumble.

  “His name was Oreo.”

  Right.

  Not candy.

  A cookie.

  “What about you?” I ask him.

  “Would you ever get another dog?”

  We stand by his truck.

  Raindrops start to fall,

  and I watch as they dance

  on the pavement.

  “I wanted to get another one.

  Lucca didn’t. So, we didn’t.”

  “You could get one now,” I say.

  As soon as I say it, I regret it.

  Like he’d rather have a dog

  than his brother.

  He reaches for the door handle,

  ready to take cover from the rain.

&nbs
p; Or my stupid comment.

  “See ya later, Brooklyn.”

  I wave and walk to my car,

  kicking myself the whole way.

  Sat., Jan. 21st—Nico

  I stop at the park again

  and swing.

  Slow at first.

  Then higher and higher.

  Back and forth.

  I close my eyes and let the rain

  pelt my face.

  Back and forth.

  I’m glad for the rain.

  Back and forth.

  It’s good camouflage.

  Sat., Jan. 21st—Brooklyn

  I stay up

  until my head literally hurts

  I’m so tired.

  I go to bed with

  Lucca’s music

  softly playing in my ears.

  I tell myself it will protect me.

  He will protect me.

  Wherever you are, Lucca.

  Please.

  Protect me.

  Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico

  Pop asks me over breakfast

  how the job search is going.

  “Not a lot out there right now,” I tell him.

  “Maybe when summer comes and I have more time.”

  “Well, you sure have a lot of time to work out,” he says.

  Pisses. Me. Off.

  He never would have told Lucca,

  You sure have a lot of time to draw.

  He could do no wrong.

  I, on the other hand,

  can apparently do no right.

  Sun., Jan. 22nd—Brooklyn

  I wake up refreshed

  and ready for the day.

  Nico’s taking me

  on a long bike ride.

  I look outside,

  happy to see the

  clear sky and sunshine

  after yesterday’s storm

  has passed.

  It’ll be chilly,

  but it won’t be wet.

  So far, I love working out.

  It’s only been a few days,

  and sure, things could change.

  But I love it.

  And I realize,

  it’s been a really long time

  since I’ve said that

  about anything.

  Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico

  “Look at that sky,” she says.

  “Have you ever seen a sky as bright as that?”

  I hadn’t noticed anything,

  thinking too much about where we’re going,

  how far, and if we have everything we need.

  I take a second to look up,

  shading my eyes from the piercing sun.

  “Dazzling,” I say, trying to be funny.

  Then I wonder, how long has it been

  since I actually looked at the sky?

  We ride our bikes through the city,

  to the road that heads toward the beach.

  We won’t go quite that far.

  But here, on this road,

  we can stretch out and ride.

  Here, on this road,

  we can feel the sun on our skin

  and smile.

  Here, on this road,

  it feels like maybe,

  just maybe

  everything will be okay.

  Sun., Jan. 22nd—Brooklyn

  When we find a spot

  to stop for water

  and a PowerBar,

  I can’t help but notice

  how relaxed Nico looks.

  Riding definitely suits him.

  We sit in the tall grass,

  far enough back,

  no one from the road

  can even see us.

  It feels like a place

  you can safely

  share secrets.

  “Do you ever get scared, Nico?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “What scares you?” I ask.

  He lies down in the grass

  and closes his eyes,

  the sun his blanket.

  “You mean besides big snakes?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Besides that.”

  “Besides eating the school’s turkey pot pie?”

  “Yes. Besides that, too.”

  The breeze blows, ruffling the grass,

  and I almost don’t hear him when he whispers,

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  The honesty in that reply

  takes my breath away.

  Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico

  “What do you mean?”

  she asks me.

  And I could tell her.

  Right here, I could tell her

  my brother’s been haunting me,

  because he’s worried about her

  and now I’m worried about her

  and I just want to know what’s going on.

  “Are you doing okay?” is all I can manage.

  “I just get … worried sometimes.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I’m okay.

  I mean, as okay as I can be.

  It’s been a hard year. You know that.”

  He sits up.

  “You scared me Friday night,” I tell her.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She shakes her head no.

  And suddenly there’s this awkwardness

  that wasn’t there before.

  “We better head back,” she says.

  “Yeah. You’re probably right.

  Ma will kill me if I’m late for dinner.”

  I stand up, reach my hand down,

  and she takes it, so I can help her to her feet.

  As I start to walk toward the bikes,

  she grabs my arm and says,

  “Nico. Thank you.

  For letting me do this race with you.

  It is helping me.

  You are helping me.”

  Man, I hope she’s right.

  Sun., Jan. 22nd—Brooklyn

  I’m tired.

  But there’s laundry,

  grocery shopping,

  dinner,

  and homework

  all needing to be done.

  At least Daddy helps me with the

  grocery shopping.

  “Let’s just grab burgers for dinner,” he says

  on our way home from the store.

  We head to his favorite burger place

  and as we do,

  we pass by Another Galaxy.

  My mind starts racing.

  It’s Sunday.

  I didn’t go today.

  My heart pounds.

  “Dad,” I say. “What time is it?”

  “Six thirty. Why?”

  Crap. It’s closed.

  It closes at 6:00 on Sundays.

  “I, just, I wanted to go to Another Galaxy.”

  He laughs. “You have enough comics to read.

  You have a whole box, right?”

  That’s not the point.

  It’s our thing, Daddy.

  It’s always been our thing.

  Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico

  Ma asks me

  to help her make baked ziti for dinner.

  She hands me one of her aprons.

  “I don’t need it, Ma.”

  Her eyes narrow.

  Like cooking without an apron

  is worse than riding a motorcycle

  without a helmet.

  “Fine,” she says. “Do it your way.”

  I sigh and grab it from her.

  “I can never do anything right, can I?”

  Now she sighs. A long, tired sigh.

  “Nico, that’s not true.

  You’re a good boy. We love you, son.

  You know that. Don’t you?”

  She reaches up and gives my chin a slight squeeze.

  I nod.

  And then I put on the apron.

  Mon., Jan. 23rd—Brooklyn

  Kyra sees me

  talking to Nico

  as we make our workout pl
an

  for the week.