“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.
