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 something 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.
