“Nothing.” But it’s not nothing. “Of course she loves you,” Dad would tell me when I questioned why he was leaving me with “her” again. It was last summer and I wasn’t having it. No matter how much shit I gave him, he was adamant about me loving her or liking her or giving her a chance, or whatever.
“I didn’t say anything about love,” I’d quip. “She doesn’t even like me.”
“She does. You don’t see all she does when you’re not around.”
“Like?” I’d press.
“She talks about you to her friends and makes sure she buys at least three boxes of Lucky Charms so you can pick out the marshmallows. And she hasn’t thrown the flytrap in the trash. Yet.”
“She tried. I dug PS back out. And three boxes is wrong. Six is the number. Not three. She knows and does whatever she wants anyway.”
He’d scoff. “She wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, honey. She’s your family now, too.”
“Nope.”
“She needs you as much as you need her. You’re both too stubborn to realize it. Besides, JJ and Kam will be there every summer waiting for your visit, like always. They aren’t going anywhere.”
“Yeah, you are,” I’d argue tearfully. “You’re the one who leaves. YOU.”
“I’m … sorry,” he’d say with a hand on mine. But he didn’t say it like “I’m sorry to do this to you,” it was more like “I’m sorry but I don’t want to be here.” I heard it in his voice and I felt it when he’d try to grab my hand because the touch didn’t match the feeling in my gut.
“Dad, please don’t go,” I pleaded. “I feel like things will change. Something will happen.”
With a sigh, he’d grab my poster and hold it between us. “What would Rosie do?”
“Roll up her sleeves and change a tire.”
“I love that. I could use a tire change if you want to have at it.”
“Dad.”
“I get it, kiddo. But hear me out. Before long, you’ll be out of the house and off doing your own thing. Stick this out with Nell and Chris. She’s not always very good at letting people in, but it’s not intentional. She tries. That’s where you and she are very similar. Remember that when I’m gone and you feel alone.”
Hearing his voice in my head forces me to turn farther away from Dew and dancing and free to where I can retreat into my skin.
“Hey,” Dew says. “Where’d you go just now?”
I blink the memories away. “Do you have anywhere to be?”
“Wherever my friend needs me to be.” I don’t want to smile, but I DEW.
I take him to my secret place in Ivy Springs—a weeping willow I stumbled upon near the river. We sit with our feet pointing toward the open sky with our backs against the trunk. The wind is a quiet whisper, blowing the willow moss like a gentle kiss.
“Dad,” I say, looking to the sky. “This is Dew.”
He looks over at me, in awe. I thank him for coming when he stops me.
“No, thank you for helping me see. Goodbye doesn’t mean forever.”
I suppose he’s right.
Friends or more: The YA contemporary (trope) question of the century.
The buzz of the sunset’s orange-glazed rays has become part of me. Forever printed in the echo chamber of my heart. The colors of the August Moon poster have come alive in the sky and I can feel them in me, with me, beside me. My parents.
“Find the things that scare you most and do them,” my father says.
“Fear is a reminder you’re alive,” Mom says. “Blink and you’ll miss everything life has to offer.”
At the levee, I wish on planes and dream about what could be. The willow tree is about reflecting on the past, and how I came to be. The river could be a chance to understand the now. Of all the things that scare me, it’s fear I fear the most. The way it pins me against a wall so I can’t move or breathe. The way it tells me I can’t do the things I know I can.
I will look fear in the eye, and this time, I won’t blink.
NAIMA
I’m about to fall asleep when my phone buzzes.
DEW GD BRICKMAN: I have a marvelous idea. Are you currently medicated?
Me: Wut
DEW GD BRICKMAN: In case of drowsiness. I’d like to avoid that.
Me: I’m not anything.
Dew GD BRICKMAN: Perfect. Meet me outside in 10 minutes.
Me: No
DEW GD BRICKMAN: I beg. It’ll be a really cathartic event.
Me: It’s not roller skating is it? That’s the worst.
DEW GD BRICKMAN: No skates involved. But what a great fear to tackle in the future
Me: You’re annoying. See you in 10.
I dress, and put on another coat of lipstick to boost any lingering confidence. JJ and Kam are snuggled up on the couch. “Dew wants to show me something. Is it okay?”
They both smile, not even an inquisition. “Don’t be long. It’s getting late.”
I head out through the front door to find him already standing there.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend to hang out with or strangers to annoy? You can’t spend all your free time with me. It’s pathetic.”
He smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Violet had previous plans and I have something I need your help with, just as I helped you.”
“Ugh. Is this how our friendship’s gonna be? Where it has to be fair and equal helping?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t love those conditions. What’s this about?” I ask. Before he answers, he grabs me by the hand, ew, and pulls me down the sidewalk. We run down three streets before I stop him, out of breath. “What the hell? Can’t you tell me first so I can tell you I don’t wanna?”
“Sorry,” he says, “no can DEW.” He laughs. I don’t. “I promise you no harm. Trust me?”
Trust. Trust. Trust. Trust. Trust. Trust.
The word feels foreign. But his eyes catch the moonlight. Two shining blips staring back at me. “Don’t make me regret this.”
He takes me to a familiar place—the levee, where we’re seemingly the only people on earth. “I don’t get it. Are we wishing on more planes? Going to the willow?”
“The answer’s been here all along,” he says. “The water.”
“You’re gonna have to give me more than that, man.”
He pulls off his shoes and his socks. He begins to unbuckle his belt. I stop him. “Whoa, nope! What are you doing?”
“Don’t panic—we’re not skinny-dipping. I’m far too modest for that.”
“Then what the hell? Put your clothes back on before someone sees.”
He doesn’t stop. He removes items faster. The shirt comes up over his head and the boy has abs—like genuine, defined abs against his bony frame. My eyeballs shoot out of their sockets at the gift he’s been hiding. Damn.
“That’s the thing,” he huffs. “I’ve realized recently—since my recorder was destroyed—I don’t much care what people think. I just want to live. Not merely be alive—LIVE.”
“What does that have to do with the river?”
“We’re jumping in the lake and swimming to the buoy.”
I laugh. Loud. “You’re out of your mind.”
He pulls his pants down, lets them drop. His legs are twigs, barely fur covered. “Maybe I am, but you know what? Oh, well. This is me, Naima. I hope you’ll change your mind because I envisioned this being more of a team-building exercise. Like I help you fight your fears and you help me fight mine.”
Would you rather stand stark naked in front of the world, but emotionally protected, or be fully clothed and all your feelings in plain sight?
An airplane passes overhead and he stops. Our chins point up, both of us wishing. And suddenly I see him standing there, his tall, thin body frail under the stars. It’s nearly the complete opposite of me. Something about it makes me feel at ease. I look around one last time—still no one—and decide to take another chance.
“I’m not taking my clothes off,” I
say. “And we better hurry before Officer Cane does his rounds.”
“Of course you know his schedule.”
“Get off my case.” I reluctantly kick off my sneakers. “If you look at me weird, or touch me, or tell anyone about this, I’ll end you.”
“I have no doubt.” He smiles and holds out a hand. I refuse it but together, we run into the water.
His arms fly through the air as he gasps. “I can’t swim!” he shouts.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grab ahold of him and start to drag him to land but he resists.
“We have to get to the buoy.”
I’m starting to see shadows of curious people, so to save time, I do what he asks, guiding him to the buoy, where he grabs ahold.
“Why do you need to touch the buoy?” I ask. We’re quiet now, only the sound of waves gently crashing around us.
“I have a confession.”
“Jesus. Now what?”
“When I sit along the levee, I’m not only wishing on airplanes. I’m also making a deal with this buoy.”
“I don’t get it.”
“My parents were swerved off the road. Their car went into a river similar to this one. It struck a buoy. I’ve always wanted to touch the symbol of what took them from me. To show the universe it can’t control me anymore. And I did it. Thanks to you, I did it.”
The pain I feel over his loss is so similar to the pain of my own, my heart aches. “You did it.”
He cries with laughter, an overwhelming pang of pride surging through. I splash him to ruin the moment, and he splashes back. We’re loud and free and I’ve never felt more alive than in this moment. I don’t ever want it to end.
* * *
The smell of apple butter permeates through the open kitchen window. I lift onto my heels from the back porch. I’m soaking wet with no justifiable explanation. Inside, JJ hums something choir-like, taking me back to my younger days when she’d comb through my wet hair, belting out along with a gospel record. Her voice is as powerful as ever, never quiet, never shrinking.
Kam sits at the table with his elbows propped. He’s thumbing through another of JJ’s books—A Woman Is More Than Your Gaze: A Feminism Guide for Men—and the floor where Dad’s pieces fell has been swept clean.
I breeze through the door as if nothing happened. I mean, what else is there to do? They both stop what they’re doing. “What happened to you?” JJ asks in a panic. She’s grabbing all the kitchen towels to dry me off.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I fell.”
“Into a pool?” Kam asks.
“Good Lord, girl,” JJ says. “I wasn’t that wet during the swimming portion of my last triathlon.”
“Can we pretend I’m not dripping all over the floor and skip this conversation altogether?”
With a smirk, JJ ushers me on to change my clothes. When I return, no one so much as looks up when I pull out the chair next to Kam—the one Dad had been in, but is now empty—and take a seat. The spot is cold, how I’d expect it to feel. Kam barely looks up from his page so as not to acknowledge me too much, as JJ’s song never breaks from the chorus. A row of Lucky Charms boxes continues to line the table’s edges. I’ve already sorted the marshmallows out of them and can’t seem to toss the boxes into the trash heap. If it were with Nell, she’d already have taken them from me, before I’m ready. But JJ and Kam know to take my lead. They let me toss them on my time, when I’m ready. I know: high maintenance central. The strawberry cake Dew made still decorates the center of the table, only one piece cut, like a giant gaudy centerpiece.
JJ’s song comes to an end, and suddenly, we are all still. The quiet after the storm. “I’ll pretend I know nothing about the trespassers at the levee the news is talking about. Dew Brickman would never do anything so unlawful.”
I slink into the chair. Kam finds my eyes with a smile as JJ pushes a small plate in front of me with a wink. I look down at the missing piece of Dew’s strawberry cake, adorned with rainbow sprinkles. She swivels the plate so the cake’s inside faces me. Apparently Dew GD Brickman is full of many surprises. Lucky Charms marshmallows are baked right into the center.
I want to be angry at JJ’s apparent betrayal for spilling one of my weird secrets to an even weirder boy, but can’t. I feel something else taking over instead; something indescribable. I’ve decided this is the second thing I like about him. The first, of course, is that he’s probably the kindest, realest person I’ve ever met and I hate everything about it.
But don’t tell him I said so. My new catchphrase, I guess.
Boy finds himself in hot (river) water, tries to climb out.
I wake later than usual to the smell of Stella’s Sunday morning skillet breakfast, which consists mostly of vegetables and faux cheese.
“This one’s for the blog so let me take a few photos first.” She grabs her phone and adjusts the lighting, snapping a few shots before filling our plates.
“I wanted pancakes,” Faith says, groggy-eyed.
“I’ll find a pancake recipe for next weekend, okay?”
She grumbles, but ultimately eats what’s in front of her. A speck of winged glitter is still drawn from her eyes, shimmering against the morning sunlight.
“Since I’m off today,” Thomas says, “what do you say we do something together—as a family?”
Faith grunts again. “I’m soooo tired.”
“I don’t mean this minute.”
“Fine.” Her fork pierces the bits while I pretend to do the same.
“Food okay?” Stella worries.
“It’s great.”
She silently asks Thomas to step in with her gaze, a gentle nod of the head. He clears his throat. “If you don’t feel up to family time, it’s okay.”
“That’s not it.”
“Stomach still bothering you?”
My heart, I think. “A little.”
“Go lie down and we’ll figure out our day later.”
I clear my plate, a buzz from my pocket catching me before I go.
Violet: Question: Did you and Naima go skinny-dipping last night? Ivy Springs is a small town. If you want to see other people, tell me. It’s cool if you just want to be friends. Maybe it’d help my misaligned chakras and your graying aura? Just a thought.
My finger levitates above the words, but freezes. I’m an idiot.
“Thomas,” I say. He looks up, wide-eyed. “Can I talk to you about something?”
Stella pauses mid-chew.
“Of course.” He follows me to my room, where I silently ask permission from the August Moon poster before continuing.
“What’s up, buddy?” His plaid robe drags across the floor like a dance pirouette. It oddly reminds me of Dad twirling Mom in our apartment.
“I have a general question I’m not sure I know the answer to.”
“Shoot.”
“Say there’s a boy who likes a girl, but decides to be friends with that girl, and starts dating another girl. But then, the first girl suddenly wants to spend more time with him, and he isn’t sure how to feel about the new girl, or the first girl, because it’s all too much. Has he done something wrong? Should he politely step aside from both to not cause any hurt feelings—especially his own?”
Thomas rubs his chin and takes a seat on the edge of my bed. “That’s a tough one. If this boy has these concerns, it might signal something’s not right and he shouldn’t be with either girl.”
“Oh.” I look to the poster for moral support. It doesn’t provide any.
“But I also think relationships are nuanced and each one deserves its own set of rules. The important thing to do—for this theoretical boy—is to talk to each girl and say how he’s feeling. Without communication, it can all get tangled up pretty darn quick.”
I nod, calculating the steps I need to take for all sides to end on a positive note.
“Anything else I can help with?”
“No.” He stands, unsure of how long to linger, but obviously beaming
with pride.
“It means a lot that you’d ask my opinion. I’m always here for you, Dew. Always.” He offers a hug and closes the door behind him.
I think of the way Dad spoke of Mom. How he’d compare her to the sun. I think of Mom, how she compared me to the rarest of flowers. But August Moon compared love to the fire. It burns, it lights the way, but most of all, it inspires.
I know just what to do with my fire.
NAIMA
Morning sun streaks in through the sheer curtains covering the small window. I stare at the pile of letters on my floor.
“Breathe it in while you can,” Dad would say as the sun arose each morning he was home. “My lungs are too tight,” I’d argue.
“I didn’t mean literally, Naima. In your soul,” he’d continue, and I’d have to think about what it meant to feel something so deeply, it changed the way you saw the world. I could see it in his eyes sometimes; that he did breathe it in while he could. Every day home with me, with us, while distracted by memories of war, he tried to be in the pocket of our conversations but often failed. Those are hard things to forget. We seemed to be happily distracted in each other’s company and I liked it that way.
The warmth of the sun inches over my skin, and it’s like I’m on fire; it’s a sign—another omen. So, on a day where the loss of him will surround me as we set off balloons into the sky, I imagine the six red balloons in front of me. They hover above the ground, each reminding me of someone.
One red balloon prays like Nell. The second breathes like Dad. The third says a three-syllable word about me, like Dew. The fourth holds his favorite Marine Dad mug but can’t seem to drink from it. The fifth refuses to leave my side even when I tell her I’m fine. And the sixth reflects back to me. They’re all gathered in this weird, little circle offering support. I imagine tying them to my wrist and skipping on through the rest of my day, weightless. This feeling carries me through.
After we’ve all dressed, we pile into JJ’s car and drive to the community park, where JJ abandons us to go to the 5K start line. We’ll cheer her on from the non-exerciser section like I prefer. I’ve run with her and it’s what I imagine punishment in hell to be.
Six Goodbyes We Never Said Page 25
