“When I’m awound you, I don’t dwown.”
“Drown?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Is that how it feels?”
“Yeah, the apwaxia. It feels like I’m underwater.” It must have been the first time she ever mentioned that to anyone because her cheeks and neck blazed soft red.
“Thank you for trusting me with that feeling,” I said, winking at her. Before I told her goodnight, I could have sworn I saw her face glow an even brighter red.
**
Over the next week, Brook came out of her shell piece by piece. By Friday, she actually came in the house with a smile on her face instead of me having to pull it out of her with a corny joke. Anthony looked like his entire world was brighter when Brook tossed her arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “Hi Daddy,” she grinned. Her teeth were straight and white and her slight overbite made her fucking adorable.
Next, she bounced over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Hi, Cease,” she almost whispered.
“How was your day, Brook?” I asked, fingering her soft ponytail.
“It went by fast. Are we still having family movie night?” Last Friday, I suggested family movie night and at first, Brooklyn wasn’t feeling it but once she saw how happy Ant was she went for it. We ended up having a blast and decided we’d do it for as long as I was staying with them.
“You get to pick, kiddo,” I smiled warmly at her and her eyes glittered like fireflies.
“Okay,” her voice was warm and she wasn’t whispering like she normally did. When she went to her room, I noticed she didn’t close the door either. Anthony looked at me and smiled, shaking his head.
“You know, Cease, I hate to say it but these past two weeks have been amazing for me to witness. Brooklyn is being…normal. She’s opening up to you and I didn’t think she would open up to anyone ever.”
“Well, I’m sure Brook would have opened up to a qualified psychologist like the one I recommended to you after Andrea…” I was still pissed about that shit and I wasn’t trying to hide it. Anthony grunted and averted his gaze from mine.
“Don’t start that shit.”
“It’s the truth though,” I told him. “She’s starving for love and affection. She wants to be noticed and heard but she’s scared to talk.”
“Well, you’re alright with me as long as you can get her to talk. I’m not admitting that she needed therapy because this isn’t therapy. This is you being her uncle. She needed this, Caesar.”
“I’m being her friend.” I had no idea why my voice was so harsh but I dialed it back and stood to my feet. Anthony’s eyes narrowed in contemplation and he nodded, leaving it alone.
I went to Brook’s room and knocked before sticking my head in. She’d changed out of her hoodie and wore a pink, long-sleeved Henley shirt. It was the first time I’d seen her wear a color besides black or white. The pink looked good against her olive skin.
“Hey,” she smiled and hugged me, burying her face in my chest. Brook’s hugs made my world spin slower as if the universe wanted me to savor every second.
“What’s up, kiddo?” I sat on the floor with her and sorted through her box of cassette tapes. The girl had eclectic taste. I liked the fact that she had something that made her…her. It was one of the only ways I noticed Brook expressing herself outside of cutting.
“Phil Collins,” I said, handing her a tape. Her teeth found her bottom lip and she chewed nervously before reaching for the boombox. The music calmed her and she leaned against my arm, resting her head on my shoulder.
I noticed her hair was brushed up into a neat bun with not one strand out of place. I tossed a heavy arm around her and she let out a happy sigh. While she stared at the tape spinning in the tape deck, I stared down at her and admired the way she was blossoming.
My finger moved down the back of her neck and over the short swirl of hair there. It was like a single wisp of smoke. “You look pretty today, Brook. I like the pink on you,” I said. She looked up at me and smiled. It was the sweetest smile I’d ever seen.
“Thank you,” she replied quietly. “You look like you just got back from the gym.” I nodded my head at her observation and tried not to look too much like a proud uncle.
She was using her R’s properly. I didn’t want to point it out immediately because I didn’t want her to clam up but I noticed it.
We hung out on the floor talking about whatever she wanted to talk about. I was there to listen. I was there to make sure Brooklyn was heard.
Every time she pronounced a word with R in it the right way, I noted it in my head. While we sat, I was reminded of our conversation the first night she agreed to let me in. I sat up straight and looked at her.
“Remember when you told me the speech apraxia made you feel like you were underwater?” I asked, running a hand over my chin.
“Yeah,” she nodded in response.
“I never thought that was true,” I said watching her expression. Her features twisted into a web of confusion. She shook her head slightly but not because of the confusion. She shook her head like someone with something in their ear.
Like someone with water in their ear.
“You’re not speaking right now. You’re not trying to speak. Yet, you feel like you’re drowning, don’t you?” I asked. Brooklyn nodded her head. “Your words might not come out the way you want them to because of the apraxia but the anxiety is what makes you feel like you’re drowning.”
One night when we stayed up well into the morning, talking in the darkness of the living room while she curled up on the couch beside me, she told me that before she felt like she was drowning, she felt the water start in her head. It made things sound fuzzy and she couldn’t focus on anything.
She told me that after a while, the water got into her chest and she couldn’t breathe. Then she felt like she was drowning and would die. She felt like nobody could see her drowning. Nobody cared. It made her want to cry.
“W-What do you mean?” She asked, blinking rapidly.
“I mean that the water in your head sounds a lot like anxiety. The water in your chest making it hard to breathe sounds like a panic attack. The drowning and feeling like you’re dying and nobody can see you sound like depression.” The realization rippled over her and she stared at me with an open mouth. I let her sit quietly as long as she needed to. Brooklyn blinked her eyes, giving a soft shake to her head before wetting her lips with her tongue.
“I-I nevew thought about being depwessed.” Her teeth found her bottom lip and she tugged at a piece of skin there. I swiped my thumb across her lip and she stopped chewing on it but not before she started mouthing her sleeve.
“There are an insane amount of ways to treat depression if you want to try,” I offered with a mellow shrug. I didn’t want to push her to do anything she was afraid of or would resent later.
“I want to try,” she said forcing her lips to make the R sound. It came out shaky and uncertain but it was perfect.
“Great. I think journaling would be a good start,” I explained, pulling her sleeve away from her mouth. She stared at me for a few beats and her pupils dilated as she took me in. “You don’t have to show anyone. It’ll be your private thoughts.”
“I have a journal but it’s blank.” She scrambled over to her nightstand and pulled out a worn book with a unicorn on the front. I ticked off another mark in my head for times she pronounced the R sound properly.
Nothing would take away the unique accent that she had but I didn’t want it to. It meant that nobody would sound like Brook, ever. She was one of a kind.
“See?” She put it in my hand and I flipped through the blank, lined pages. I noticed specks of dried blood on the pages in the middle and I looked up at Brooklyn. My lips turned down at the corners. “I keep my razows in the middle,” she confided. Her voice was like a feather barely touching my ears.
“This is perfect,” I said swallowing back the thick ache starting to pulse through me. “Use it and turn it into somethin
g beautiful…like you,” I touched her cheek and they glowed scarlet.
“You think I’m beautiful? Me?” Her eyes were radiant. She inched closer to me and I held my arm out for her. She seemed most comfortable when she was right beside me. It made my heart smile when I realized it.
“I do,” I admitted. It was the truth. Not something I said to boost her confidence. Brook was gorgeous. I was honestly shocked a talent scout hadn’t discovered her. She was always barefaced and yet she was striking. Her eyes glittered like the sun bouncing off the ocean. Her hair was thick and hung down past her shoulders in naturally loose waves and curls. It was a mixture of textures that would look messy to anyone else. Her lips were impossibly full and so expressive.
Normally, the eyes told it all but with Brook, her lips were equally expressive. I watched them almost as much as I watched her eyes. Maybe I shouldn’t have…
“Thank you,” she said, snatching me from my inappropriate thoughts.
“You’re welcome, kiddo.” I kissed her temple and stood up.
“You’re leaving?” She asked. Her lips dropped into a frown and my eyes locked onto them.
“Yeah…I’m gonna see what Ant is doing and which movie he’s forcing on us tonight.”
“Okay…” She stood too and curled her pinky around mine. “Ask if we can get pizza, please.” Her full lips curved upward making the apples of her cheeks rise. I wanted to always see that look on her face. Something about that thought made my throat thick. I stepped into the hallway and headed to the living room where I found Ant already browsing Netflix for a movie.
“How’s Brooklyn?” He asked, his eyes fixed on the trailer playing on the TV. I was glad he wasn’t looking at me because while I was the respected Dr. Powers in public, in private, my big brother saw right through me. He could get into my head with just a look.
I didn’t know what he’d find when he looked at me so I didn’t want him focused on me. I didn’t even know what the fuck was inside of my own head right then. I just knew it was wrong.
“She’s fine. She wants pizza,” I told him, sitting on the couch.
“She can have whatever she wants. I’m just glad I get to have my little girl back. She’s herself. The Brooklyn I remember before…” He glanced at me and cleared his throat then flipped to another channel.
“It’s okay to talk about Andrea,” I told him. I was glad to switch the subject to something else. Anything else besides Brook. Something about her got under my skin in a way that wouldn’t let up.
“I don’t like to. Brings up tough emotions and I’m done dealing with emotions,” Anthony grumbled. He crammed his thumb against the remote over and over until he stopped on another movie worthy of his consideration.
“Talking about Andrea might help Brook too,” I mentioned, crossing my legs at the ankle. My main focus was the TV screen but I didn’t miss my brother’s quick glance at me.
Brook was his soft spot. He may not have understood the inner workings of her complex brain but he loved his daughter with everything he had. I respected that. He was doing the best he could by her.
“Yeah? How so?” He asked, turning his full attention to me.
“She’ll feel like she can express herself too. If you don’t, then she won’t. You set the stage, Ant.” I’d been noticing that Anthony was closed off emotionally and the only time he showed any feelings at all was when he wanted to get Brook to open up to him. Other than that, he was a closed book. He certainly didn’t give off the vibe that he was an open-minded parent. He never talked about his late wife, Andrea.
“You can’t keep her mother’s memory locked away in a box,” I told him. I clenched my fist and tapped my toe on the floor in perfect time with the ticking clock on the wall.
“If I start talking about Andrea, I’ll think about her. If I think about her, I’ll think about how much I miss her, Cease.” His Adam’s apple wobbled in his throat and he studied the backs of his hands like there would be a pop quiz.
“And that’s okay. You miss your wife. That’s normal. I’m sure Brook misses her mom. You two can bond over the grief. It’s a powerful thing. Grief brings people together in the strangest ways but it’s usually an unbreakable bond once it’s formed.” I was prepared for a fight with him. He hated when I analyzed him.
“I know you’re waiting for me to fight back but I can’t. The way you’ve gotten my kid to talk and smile is something I’ve never seen before. I figure you must know what you’re talking about.
Your patients must be paying you for your smarts because they’re damn sure not paying you for your good looks. We all know I’m the good-looking brother.” A smile tugged on the corner of his lips and I laughed out loud.
“Fuck you, Ant. Even if you did get the looks, I got the height and we all know that trumps everything.” I soaked in the feeling of hearing Ant laugh. It was something he needed to do more often.
“I gotta take a piss, I’ll be right back,” Anthony sighed, standing to his feet. I sat flipping through Netflix movies and settled on an action flick for my choice. I wanted to get a jump on the pizza so I went to ask Brook what she wanted on hers.
When I walked into her room, she was standing at the foot of the bed in just her bra and panties, watching something on her phone. I should have spoken up. I should have knocked or walked away but I didn’t.
My chest tightened and my mouth turned to cotton. Something about Brook broke my logic. I should have been around her more as a child. I should have watched her grow up. Maybe I wouldn’t be watching her from the doorway.
Shame weighed my neck down until my head hung. Logic began to seep back in and I knocked on her door with my eyes focused on the carpet. “Let’s order pizza, Brook.” I couldn’t believe that for a fucking second I thought it was okay to stand there and stare at her like that.
It was morally corrupt.
It was wicked.
It was fucked up.
“Oh, shit.” I listened from the hall as she scrambled around to put on clothes. She brushed past me wearing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt with thumb holes she’d cut into the bottom of the sleeve.
My heart thumped when I saw that smile of hers. I wanted to help her. I was displacing my feelings. That’s it. I had to get a hold of that shit.
The thickness in my throat gave way to normalcy and I pushed out a breath. There was nothing morally corrupt or wicked. I just had displaced feelings for a hauntingly beautiful, sad girl.
My brain needed more time to get to know Brook. I forced myself to flip a switch that shut off the budding, twisted part of my brain. Flipping that switch allowed me to finally sit with my family like a family member and enjoy pizza and movies.
It allowed me to look at Brook like any other uncle would.
**
Brooklyn…
Friday movie nights were my favorite. We’d done five in a row already and this Friday made the sixth. I had my reasons for counting. Cease was only staying with Dad and me for eight weeks.
Every time I thought about him leaving, my head started to fill with water. It was anxiety. I had anxiety and I was depressed. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that already but it felt different hearing someone else point it out. I wasn’t depressed whenever Cease was around though. He kept the water away.
He was my knight in shining armor and the thought of him leaving our house made the water fill my lungs like never before. It filled them so quickly that they burned trying to expand and I gasped trying to suck in air.
Breathe Brooklyn.
I had to coach myself through the simple fucking act of breathing every time I thought about Cease moving into his new house. It was pathetic.
I was pathetic.
The hatred I had for myself still stung. It would always sting. The only relief I felt was when Cease sat beside me on my bedroom floor listening to me talk.
I would always steal my hand away in his. My shoulders were tight each time he gave my hand a squeeze. He thawed all
the icy parts of me. Being around him was like warming my hands over a fire on the harshest January night.
“Hey, Kiddo Ant is still at work and I have to go finish signing the closing papers on my house. You wanna go with me?” Cease stood at my bedroom door and I let my eyes travel shamelessly up his tall, muscular body.
Today he was dressed like he was going to the office. He wore gray slacks that hugged him flawlessly and a crisp white shirt. My breath clogged my throat on the way out when my stare lingered on the patch of skin exposed by the three open buttons at his throat.
Did he have to smell so warm and rich? It made my heart thump far too fast. Sometimes when I was tucked beneath his arm on the couch, his scent made me dizzy. Not in a bad way though.
“Yeah. I’ll go. Do we get to see the house?” I didn’t have time to put my hair in a ponytail because Cease was looking at his watch and I felt the need to hurry.
“I’ll take you to see it,” he promised. He looked at my hair and said, “Leave it down. I like it.” His eyes narrowed a bit with a smile that never quite met his lips. Heat rushed through my core making my belly clench. I placed my hand there subconsciously.
“Thanks,” I tried not to smile too hard but the urge vibrated through me, pushing my cheeks up and curving my lips. ”Um, your keys are in Daddy’s woom. He moved your car out of the dwiveway.” I moved past Cease and headed down the hall to Dad’s room.
Even though I was pronouncing words with R’s in them better, it still made my palms tingle when I said things wrong in front of Cease. He would never judge me but I judged myself and I was harsh.
“Thanks, Brook,” he said warmly. As I moved past, we locked pinkies then he gave my hand a squeeze.
When I walked into my father’s room I tucked my hair behind my ear and brought the heel of my hand to my lips. I sucked on my sleeve as I moved things around on Dad’s dresser looking for Cease’s keys. I knocked over a few medicine bottles and frowned, picking one up. I curled my fingers around the brown bottle and read the name of the medicine.
Tortured Whispers Page 4