Chasing Brooklyn

I tell him,

  I care about him very much.

  That he is a real-life Tom Strong,

  always trying to help me

  and lift me up any way he can.

  I tell him

  how much I admire his dedication

  to do the right thing.

  How much I love his kind heart

  and passion for the people and things

  he cares about.

  I tell him

  he has so many good qualities.

  Just like his brother did.

  But different ones.

  They’re different, he and his brother.

  One not better than the other.

  Simply different.

  When I say this, he turns away from me.

  Looks out the window.

  Takes a deep breath.

  And suddenly I know,

  this is what he needed to hear.

  Mon., Feb. 13th—Nico

  We are different.

  One isn’t better than the other.

  Simply different.

  “Nico?” she says.

  “Look at me.”

  I turn and face her.

  “You don’t have to be him. Just be you.

  Wonderful, strong, kind you.”

  And it’s what I’ve needed to hear.

  Mon., Feb. 13th—Brooklyn

  Our food comes

  so we’re quiet for a while, eating.

  When we’re done,

  I tell him there’s one more thing

  he needs to know.

  I tell him

  I’ve been keeping something from him.

  Afraid of what he might think if I told him.

  Afraid to share a part of myself with him.

  But I’m ready to tell him.

  I finally tell him

  about Gabe.

  Mon., Feb. 13th—Nico

  When she tells me about Gabe

  and how he chased her down

  dark hallways and through gray cemeteries,

  it all makes sense.

  The late-night and early-morning calls,

  the fear in her eyes,

  the panic in her voice,

  Lucca’s insistence I help her.

  Gabe.

  Dream after frightening dream,

  she didn’t know what to do.

  But always, through it all,

  I was there, training with her,

  a welcome distraction from the horror.

  “Has it ended?” I ask.

  “I think so,” she says.

  “We made a promise. A long time ago.

  He wanted to see it through.

  To help me see how afraid I was to live.

  I mean, think about it.

  Art has always been my passion.

  And I hadn’t drawn in a year!”

  Tears fill her eyes. Mine too.

  I want to reach out to her. Hold her.

  But something tells me to wait.

  She looks at me. Sadness in her eyes.

  “Nico, I have to be honest with you.

  I’m making progress. I am.

  But this, with you,

  I’m just not ready to make a decision yet.”

  “Progress is good,” I tell her.

  She smiles. “In a race and in life?”

  “Exactly.

  And Brooklyn, don’t worry.

  I’ll wait for you at the finish line.”

  Mon., Feb. 13th—Brooklyn

  He takes me home,

  and I tell him

  I’m going to keep training.

  But for now,

  it needs to be without him,

  because I need some time.

  “Whatever you need,” he says.

  When I get out of his truck

  I look up.

  The clouds are silvery soft.

  Looks like rain

  will be falling soon.

  I turn around and see

  he’s looking up too.

  Then he waves

  and drives away.

  Sun., Feb. 19th—Nico

  The extended family is gone

  after another successful spaghetti Sunday.

  I always miss him on this day.

  A little more than other days.

  I go to my room and put on an old Killers CD.

  And I wait.

  When Smile Like You Mean It

  begins to play,

  I feel the cold rush of air,

  and the light flickers just enough

  so I know he’s there.

  I let him listen

  and right before it ends,

  I hold up the book A Cry for Help.

  “It’s your turn, Lucca.

  I’ve done all I can.”

  The light goes completely out

  before the room warms up.

  Maybe that’s a ghost’s way of saying,

  “Over and out.”

  Sun., Feb. 19th—Brooklyn

  It’s Daddy’s birthday

  I bake him a cake and while it’s cooling,

  I tell him I have a surprise for him.

  But he has to go somewhere with me

  to get it.

  We go to the animal shelter,

  and as we wander through the place,

  I know he’s wishing he could

  take them all home.

  “How do I choose, Brooklyn?” he asks.

  “I think when it’s right, you know,” I tell him.

  “Like you’ll get a feeling it’s the right one.”

  As we wander around,

  I spot a Pomeranian.

  It takes me back to that day,

  when luck was on Lucky’s side.

  When Nico was on Lucky’s side.

  It takes my dad a good two hours

  to find the right one.

  But when we put the

  sweet blue heeler named Sadie

  in the backseat,

  it feels right.

  I look at my dad,

  a big grin on his face.

  He knows he’s made

  the right decision.

  She’s the one.

  I wish for a little

  of that knowing.

  Wed., Feb. 22nd—Nico

  Charlie comes over

  after school to study for a trig test.

  When we’re done he says

  we should play Guitar Hero.

  I tell him I broke the guitar.

  He laughs and wants to know

  how I managed to do that.

  And so I tell him about the day

  I heard of Gabe’s death.

  “What’s your theory?” he asks me.

  “About what happened to him.”

  I look out the window.

  I think of him and me.

  How in some ways,

  we really weren’t that different.

  “I don’t know what happened.

  But I think he was lost.

  He needed an escape.

  And my guess is, he didn’t intend

  to go that far.

  It just happened.

  Like sometimes I’m running

  and I don’t want to stop.

  I want to keep going,

  because deep down inside,

  you wonder if there’s

  a reason to come back, you know?”

  Charlie nods. “Dude, can I just say,

  it’s great to have you back.”

  Fri., Feb. 24th—Brooklyn

  I’m standing

  on the road,

  a car beside me,

  wrecked beyond belief.

  Their car.

  I walk around it,

  looking for them,

  but it’s empty.

  The hillside

  next to the road

  is covered

  in forget-me-nots.

  Small.

  Dainty.

  Lovely.

  I w
alk up the hill

  and when I reach the top,

  I see him.

  Lucca.

  My legs can’t move

  fast enough.

  When I reach him,

  he sweeps me up

  and into his arms.

  He holds me tightly

  for a long,

  long time

  and I think,

  this must be

  what heaven’s like.

  When he lets go,

  he gently takes my face

  and holds it in his hands,

  his loving eyes gripping mine.

  “I want you to be happy, Brooklyn.

  That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “But—”

  “No. It’s that simple.

  Don’t worry about me.

  It’s not about me.

  It’s about you and living your life

  in the best possible way.”

  Just then, I hear footsteps,

  and a shadow appears

  behind him.

  I’d recognize

  those footsteps

  anywhere.

  Gabe.

  But this time,

  I’m not afraid.

  I take Lucca’s hand,

  and we go to him,

  until we stand

  face-to-face.

  “Every day it’s a choice,” Gabe says.

  “Choose life. Or choose death.

  What do you choose?”

  I remember the two paths.

  The dark, scary one.

  The bright, beautiful one.

  “Life,” I say, my voice shaking.

  “I choose life.”

  And when I speak those words,

  Lucca lets go of my hand,

  kisses my cheek, and leans down

  to whisper in my ear.

  “Love is the answer. Not fear.”

  I stare at him.

  How does he know?

  I remember the soft feather on my cheek.

  The brush of whispers in my hair.

  The notes trying to help.

  Was he there too?

  “We have to go,” he says,

  interrupting my thoughts.

  “I won’t forget you, my flower girl.”

  He blows me a kiss,

  and then reaches out

  and touches Gabe’s shoulder.

  In that moment,

  light surrounds them.

  Radiant and brilliant,

  it fills me up with a warmth

  like nothing I’ve ever known.

  Lucca leads Gabe down the hill,

  where they get into the car,

  now without a dent to be seen.

  The car drives away slowly

  down the long, winding road

  laid out before them,

  the sun shining brightly

  in the distance.

  I feel a little piece of my heart

  going with them.

  Gone forever.

  As I wipe a tear

  from my cheek,

  I hear something.

  I look up and suddenly,

  the hillside I’m standing on

  becomes a shower of butterflies,

  in a rainbow of colors.

  I spin around

  and around

  and around,

  me and the colors

  becoming

  one.

  Sat., Feb. 25th—Nico

  It’s a beautiful day

  so I head out for a bike ride.

  I take the road that leads to the beach

  and stop at the place we rested that day.

  I remember her beautiful eyes.

  I remember the dazzling sky.

  I remember how she said I was helping her.

  The thing I didn’t realize at the time

  was just how much

  she was helping me, too.

  I wonder if he knew

  that’s what would happen.

  I bet Lucca knew.

  Sat., Feb. 25th—Brooklyn

  It’s a beautiful day

  and I feel the need

  to get outside and think.

  Jackson’s Hideway

  is an amazing place

  with gorgeous, lush greenery all around,

  a waterfall,

  and a sweet swimming hole,

  making it a perfect party place

  in the summertime.

  Although since Jackson died,

  no one dares to jump

  from the cliff above anymore.

  We changed the name to honor him,

  and every time I come here,

  I think of him and send a prayer up

  for his family and friends.

  Today there’s no one here,

  so I find a rock and open my notebook

  filled with letters to Lucca,

  reading them,

  noticing how the letters

  decreased in frequency

  over the past couple of months.

  When I started,

  shortly after he died,

  I wrote them every day.

  I hurt so bad, I wanted to scream,

  but I couldn’t,

  so my words on the page

  became a diary of the pain.

  I turn to a blank page,

  expecting to write a good-bye letter to him,

  surprised at what actually comes out.

  Dear Nico,

  You opened up your heart to me, and told me how you feel. I know that must have been hard. Scary. For all you knew, I could have gotten up, walked away, and never talked to you again.

  Instead, I did the same. I shared everything, including my hesitation. What I’ve realized is, I’m not hesitant because of YOU. I’m hesitant because of ME. I’m still letting the fear and the pain run my life.

  And I don’t want to do that anymore.

  What I know as sure as the sun will set tonight, painting a canvas of sky blue pink, is that I’m falling in love with you.

  I want to give us a chance, Nico. I want to say yes.

  I think I’m saying yes.

  Love,

  Brooklyn

  Sat., Feb. 25th—Nico

  On the ride home

  I feel a pull.

  The wind whispers to me,

  go there,

  go there,

  go there.

  Not sure what I’ll find

  or why,

  I do as the wind tells me.

  Sat., Feb. 25th—Brooklyn

  There’s a tap

  on my shoulder.

  Startled, I jump up,

  turning around to find

  Jackson’s girlfriend, Ava,

  standing there.

  I breathe a sigh of relief

  and smile.

  She reaches out and hugs me.

  We sit on the rock together,

  she and I,

  and we talk like long lost friends.

  She’s going to the local college now,

  dating a nice guy she met there.

  Her eyes sparkle and shine

  with happiness and I feel the longing

  in my heart to have that.