I sat on the floor, breathing in deep breaths. The water in my head muffled the music playing in the background. If I didn’t breathe soon I would drown.
My father’s footsteps disappeared and I moved into my bathroom. There, I found my precision point tweezers in the medicine cabinet. My fingers buzzed and my stomach tensed when I gripped the cool metal in my hands.
I preferred razor blades to cut with. They were quick and smooth but my tweezers would always be my favorite. I pushed the bathroom door closed with my slender hips and tugged my thumb free from the hole in my sleeve.
The moment I felt relief from the pressure of cutting my wrist I gasped. My head rolled along the bathroom door and a quiet groan escaped me. The red blood that dotted my sleeve made me hot with shame.
Why the fuck do you keep doing this shit, Brooklyn?
I shoved the recurring question from my head and fell into a trance where I dragged the tweezers over an unbroken patch of skin. I didn’t even need to see where I was cutting. I could do it by feel.
Once I came out of my fog, I swallowed the thick knot in my throat and washed the tweezers off before putting them back in the medicine cabinet. I blotted the blood on my arm with a baby wipe and pushed my thumb back through the hole in my sleeve.
**
“How was your first day?” Dad slid a paper plate over to me with warm banana bread on it. The smell made my stomach roar with want.
“Good,” I nodded.
“What happened that…bothered you?” His eyes probed mine for answers but he refused to come out and ask why I needed to cut so badly. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I filled my mouth with the sweet, soft bread and hummed happily.
My father gave up waiting for an answer and continued talking. “I have some exciting news,” he perked up a bit and smiled at me. He was so handsome.
“What?” I asked, swallowing the last bite of bread. I was definitely getting more. I’d carry the whole loaf to my room if I could.
“Uncle Caesar is coming back to LA. He’s gonna stay with us for a while until his house is ready but, he’s moving back to California for good this time,” he said with pride in his voice.
My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. I had no idea what to say. Being around new people made me nervous. It wasn’t that Uncle Caesar was new exactly but I didn’t see him often. Well, I didn’t see him at all actually. We talked on the phone sometimes for birthdays and holidays. Long enough for him to ask me how I was doing and how old I was then he’d always act shocked.
For the most part, all I knew of my uncle was what I heard from my dad. He was a big-time child psychologist in New York and people paid a shit ton of money to hear him speak and buy his books. He was like a god amongst nerds, I guess.
I used to pray for Uncle Caesar to help me like I heard about him helping all those other kids. I wanted him to help me not to drown so much. Not to cut so much. Not to be so…me.
Dad wasn’t having that shit though. He never said anything but I knew I embarrassed him. He had this successful little brother that helped kids all over the country every day. Kids that had real problems and obstacles to overcome. He didn’t want to let his brother know that he had one of those kids too. Plus it was against the rules for my uncle to see me as his patient anyway.
I forced a small smile for my father and nodded. “That’s good,” I said. I brought my sleeve up to my lips and pulled the damp material into my mouth so I could nibble on it.
The thought of having someone new in my home and in my space made my mind go all crazy. It started the vicious cycle that I loathed so much. I couldn’t process shit like a normal person. I replayed things over and over. They were scenarios in my mind that I was sure wouldn’t actually happen but…what if they did?
Instantly, the water was back. It was inky and suffocating. It dragged me back into a foggy trance where it was hard to breathe and even harder to speak.
“So, what do you think? It’ll be an adjustment but I’m sure once he’s been here for a little while you’ll get used to him.” I knew he wanted me to respond, so I nodded. I wonder if I nodded slower when I was underwater. “Brooklyn, you’re doing it again. You’re getting inside of your damn head and I can’t reach you when you’re like that.” Dad was in front of me, smoothing his big warm hand over my hair and kissing my forehead with an exasperated sigh.
I was draining him again. His eyes were so tired. I wanted to reach out and tell him it was nothing. That I’d get over it. I’d be lying though.
“Talk to me please, sweetheart. Tell me something going on inside of your mind,” he begged.
I had to give him something. My lips parted and I exhaled softly, trying to make the words in my mind come out of my mouth. It wasn’t that easy with speech apraxia though. Things got twisted on the way out. Especially when I was nervous.
“I’m new-vous,” I whispered, nibbling on my sleeve. My father nodded his head then I saw his gaze fall to the droplets of deep crimson on my sleeve from when I cut in the bathroom. I saw the heartbreak in his eyes and it gutted me. I hated myself.
“It’s okay to be nervous, Brooklyn. If you want to stay in your room when he gets here, he’ll understand. He’s a pretty cool guy.” Dad tried to swallow the broken pieces of his heart and ignore my sleeve but he excused himself shortly after I told him how I felt.
I pulled in a shaky breath, trying to fill my lungs then I went to my room and closed the door. I sat on the floor and inched closer to the old boombox hoping Hall and Oates could push away the itch to cut.
**
Caesar…
Being back in LA meant I got to catch up with old friends and colleagues. It also meant I got to spend valuable time with my big brother, Anthony and his daughter Brooklyn while setting things in motion for my new house to be finished.
Only…I’d been back in LA for four days, staying at Ant’s house and I hadn’t seen my niece at all. Well, I take that back. I did see a flash of her black hoodie as she hurried out of the door for school one morning.
“Ant, I love being back home but um…mind telling me when I’m going to see my niece? Is she shy?” I chuckled, cracking open two beers. One for him and one for me. My brother’s expression turned distant and he stared down the hall toward Brooklyn’s room.
“Brooklyn is…different,” he began, tipping his head from one side to the other like he was weighing the very essence of his daughter.
“Different how?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“She has anxiety pretty bad. I never told you because I didn’t want you shrinking my kid, Cease.” He watched my face for a reaction. He still thought I was a hothead like when we were younger. I can’t lie and say hearing my niece had bad anxiety didn’t fuck with me though.
I sucked in a measured breath and shut my eyes for a moment. One of my biggest pet peeves was watching parents let their kid suffer because they didn’t believe in therapy. That was my big brother. When he found out I was majoring in child psychology, he scoffed at me and told me I should be practical like him and take up a trade.
Anthony was an electrician and he made decent money but I wouldn’t trade psychology for the world. It fulfilled me. I got to help kids who couldn’t articulate and speak up for themselves. Kids like Brooklyn.
“Ant, it’s not about shrinking your kid or what you agree with. Your opinion isn’t fact. What is a fact though, is kids do much better in life when they have an objective party to talk to on a regular basis.
I gave you the name of a brilliant psychologist to take Brooklyn to after Andrea died. I’m guessing you never followed through,” I said, leaning back in my chair. My head throbbed with frustration.
“I didn’t. Brooklyn just needs to learn how to get out of her head, Cease. She’s in her head and nobody can reach her. She’s a normal girl besides that,” he reasoned.
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself, bro?”
“Don’t try to get in my mind. Give Brooklyn some t
ime to come out of her shell. I told her she could hide out in her room until she got used to the idea of you being here.” I nodded my head at him and then let my thoughts travel to Brooklyn. My chest ached thinking about how long she’d gone without help.
People like Ant who brushed off anxiety irked me. It wasn’t a matter of just switching your thoughts. Anxiety was your way of thinking. It was like a second skin. Something you couldn’t take off even if you wanted to.
I opened my mouth to say something to my brother but the front door swung open and warm September air rushed in. I stood up and went into the hallway to get another glimpse of the elusive Brooklyn Powers.
She was tall and slender. She looked like a supermodel hiding under a hoodie three sizes too big. Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail with countless wisps falling around her face, framing her big hazel eyes. Green flecks danced in her hazel pools as she swallowed and took a step to the side.
“Hi, Brooklyn. Long time no see,” I smiled at her, trying to speak as calmly as possible. The poor thing looked like she’d scream if she saw her own shadow. She lifted the heel of her hand to her lips and nibbled on the bottom of her sleeve, her pretty eyes shifting from me to her father.
“Say hi to your uncle, Brooklyn,” Anthony sighed, standing beside me. He was the big brother but I shot over his head. I shot over everyone’s head at six-foot-seven though.
“H-Hi, Uncle Ceas-aw.” Her dark brows furled together like she was kicking herself for pronouncing my name wrong. My chest ached again and I took a small step toward her. She brought her shoulders up around her ears a little like she was trying to protect herself. Her body language spoke volumes.
She didn’t like new people. She thought I was invading her space. “Hey, can I shake your hand?” I asked in a quiet voice. I noticed her voice was quiet and barely above a whisper so I mirrored her.
“N-N-No. I don’t shake hands.” She clutched her book bag and headed toward her room.
“That’s what I’m talking about. See? She gets in her head and shuts down,” Anthony grumbled and went back to the kitchen but I stood planted to my spot, staring as Brooklyn closed her bedroom door.
My bleeding heart was going nuts in my chest. I had to help her. She was family and there were rules against treating her but I could get her to open up at least. I could be her friend.
“She needs to talk to someone. Does she have friends?” I asked Anthony.
“No. She’s a loner.” I wanted to punch my brother for letting his kid go unchecked for so long.
“Then she’s not expressing herself. Does she have a journal? Anything she does to release? It can be stifling when you feel alone,” I said.
“No,” Ant grunted and stood up. He started slamming things around, getting ready for dinner and I knew I’d touched a nerve. I just didn’t know what it was.
“Ant, what are you thinking about, man? Talk to me.”
“Nothing. I’m making dinner. You wanna analyze that too, Cease?”
“I want to help,” I said, pleading with my words.
“Please don’t. We’ve been okay on our own all these years. Brooklyn will be fine. I’ll be fine. Enjoy being around your family and don’t turn us into patients, okay?” His voice was gravelly like Dad’s. He was grumpy like him too. I was always the optimistic one like Mom.
“Okay. Sure. I’m still going to get Brook to warm up to me,” I smiled.
“She hates being called Brook. Strike number one,” Anthony chuckled and shook his head. “Hey, how does chicken tenders and mashed potatoes sound for dinner?”
“Sounds a lot like you need to learn how to cook. How have you survived all these years without a woman, Ant? Chicken tenders and mashed potatoes? Seriously?”
“I manage just fine. I’m not dead, am I?” He quipped. I laughed a little and shook my head. Same old stubborn Ant.
“I’m gonna go see if I can coax Brooklyn out of her room,” I announced, feeling pretty confident.
“Yeah, good luck,” my brother snorted and put on a small pot of water to boil for the potatoes. At least they weren’t from a box.
I headed down the hallway to my niece’s room and knocked. There was no answer. I leaned against the doorframe and knocked again. Inside, I could hear her scrambling around. She was hiding something.
When she opened the door and realized it was me, her hazel eyes took on a green glow. “Hey, kiddo. Can I come in?” Her gaze dropped to her bare feet. I looked at them too. She wiggled her toes then sank them into the carpet She repeated the motion over and over.
“Can I come in? I’ve been here for four days and I haven’t seen you at all.” She took a step back and gestured inside of her room.
“Sewer,” she said, reluctantly. I knew she meant to say sure but I also knew she struggled with speech apraxia so I didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. I treated her like her speech was normal as anyone else’s.
“It’s good to see you again. I think the last time we saw each other you were four. You wouldn’t talk to me then either,” I frowned.
“I’m quiet,” she told me, sitting on the floor cross-legged.
“I see. Can I sit down here with you?” I asked.
“Sewer,” she nodded. Her shoulders dropped away from her ears a little and it made me smile.
Sitting directly across from her made me realize how much she’d grown up. I should have been there for her. She needed somebody. “Wow, you’re all grown up.”
“Yeah…” She nodded and tucked away a stray lock of hair. Her eyes dropped to the carpet then darted over to the black box a few feet away. She looked everywhere but at me.
“Must be weird having me in your space, huh? I must feel like a stranger. You haven’t seen me in years then I just pop the hell up.” I chuckled and she gave me a half smile. Even that little smile lit her face up. She stole a glance at me then looked down at the floor again.
“You look diffwent.” The space between her brows creased in frustration.
“I look different? Man, how do you think I feel sitting across from you? It’s like you’re not the same person anymore.”
She stole another glance at me then nibbled on her sleeve. “Dad is happy you’re hew.” She frowned at herself again and my chest squeezed.
“I’m happy I’m here too. Look, I know you have speech apraxia, and it’s okay. You don’t have to get upset because your words aren’t coming out the way you want them to. You don’t even have to call me Uncle Caesar if you don’t want. If R sounds are tough for you then,” I reached out and held her dainty hand in mine. Her skinny fingers were cold to the touch and she was stiff as a board while I tried to connect with her.
“You’ll be Brook and I’ll be Cease. I promise I’ll leave you alone if you call me Cease,” I assured her. Her hazel eyes widened with uncertainty and I could see something happening. The wheels in her head were spinning out of control. It was the same look she had at the front door before she rushed in here to her room and closed the door.
It was the look she got before Anthony said she’d disappeared into her head. I gave her hand a squeeze and she locked eyes with me. Her palm heated a bit in my grasp and I offered her a kind smile. I wanted her to know I was trustworthy.
“Okay, Cease,” she whispered before slipping her hand from mine.
“Perfect, Brook. Will I see you at dinner?” I asked, standing up. “I want all the family time I can get.” Brooklyn gave me a slow nod as her eyes traveled to mine. “Cool,” I nodded then showed myself out and closed her door.
It wasn’t a full-blown conversation but it was a start.
**
Brooklyn…
I didn’t want him to leave. I just didn’t know how to say that. From the moment I came in the house and he walked around the corner to say hi to me, I felt different. I’d been avoiding him for four days but once he stood in front of me, I wondered why.
His energy was soothing.
It pushed the water away.
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Nobody had ever pushed the water out of my head before. I got it to go away with music or cutting but not a person. He was like a savior. I hated that I was so fucking tongue-tied and couldn’t express that to him. Not the way I wanted to.
I wanted to tell him that I missed him and I wished he were around more when I was growing up. I wanted to tell him that he’d be good for my father too because as much as he thought I was in my head, he was in his own world too.
My stupid mouth would never allow me to say all that without sounding like a goddamn toddler with an accent though. Anger pumped through my veins making my heart thump wildly. Why was it so hard just to exist?
My bottom lip wobbled, heavy with anxiety and emotion that was too thick to consume and swallow the way I normally did. For once, I wanted to talk to someone. For once I wanted to ask someone to please see me, or hear me, please don’t turn away.
Instead, I was lying on my bedroom floor with two ears full of tears while I listened to early eighties music. Sometimes, I had dreams of smashing my head against the wall and pulling out the part of my brain that jumbled the connection between my head and my mouth.
I wanted to burn that part of me. It was stupid and pointless.
“Brooklyn, come eat dinner!” Dad called out. I smelled chicken tenders when I opened my door. I was tired of nuggets and tenders and tater tots but maybe dinner would be different with Uncle Caesar at the table.
Maybe for once, I wouldn’t feel like water was sloshing around in my head threatening to leak out any moment. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to my bathroom to check my face. I wanted to make sure I didn’t look like I’d been crying. I couldn’t handle the concern from my dad.
He always wracked his brain trying to figure out how to get me to open up but I don’t think he understood exactly how broken I was. Shit, even if I could open up I wouldn’t want to. Nobody should see all the tortured thoughts in my mind. All the different ways I hated myself.
I splashed cold water on my face and dried it on a fluffy towel before heading down the hall and to the kitchen. Dad’s brown eyes found mine and he studied me as I sat beside Cease at the table, pulling my arms around myself. I knew he was waiting for me to grab my plate and scurry back to my room like I always did when we had company.
Tortured Whispers Page 2
