with DOG DOC on the vanity plates,
I walk over with two cups of steaming hot coffee
and hand her one.
She smiles and says, “Thanks.”
“Much better,” I say.
“What?” she asks.
“A smile. Instead of tears.”
She nods. “Yeah. It is.”
Fri., Jan. 20th—Brooklyn
Did he really bring me
coffee?
Fortunately, the caffeine
isn’t all that necessary
this morning.
I slept really well last night.
No dreams.
Thank God, no dreams.
Today, I feel good.
As we’re walking inside,
I say, “Thanks again, Nico.
That was really nice of you.”
He smiles his million-dollar smile.
“You’re welcome.”
He is nice.
And I can’t help but think,
just like his brother.
Fri., Jan. 20th—Nico
We swim for a while
then I get out to watch her.
I’m relieved she’s a strong swimmer.
It can be the trickiest part of the race.
Her strokes are as smooth
as the coffee we just drank
I give her a few tips on knowing
when and how often to take breaths.
She glides through the water,
adjusting her breaths like I told her.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Fri., Jan. 20th—Brooklyn
In the pool
the water washes
over me and inside
my worries
about Lucca,
about Gabe,
about my family,
about school
about life
wash
away.
Some mothers
do their birthing
in water.
Some patients
do their therapy
in water.
Some children
do their playing
in water.
It is gentle.
It is soothing.
It is forgiving.
It is just what I needed
today.
Fri., Jan. 20th—Nico
On our way out,
I say, “Brooklyn, about that party—”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m not going.
I won’t lie. I thought about it.”
She looks at me and smiles.
I love the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles.
“Tuesday, when they asked me?” she says.
“I wanted to go. Maybe even yesterday,
I wanted to go.
But now, right now, in this moment,
after that awesome workout?
I don’t want to go.
And I can’t wait for tomorrow, Nico.
See you then.”
She walks away and I breathe
a big, heavy, deep
sigh of relief.
Fri., Jan. 20th—Brooklyn
After dinner,
listening to the Joy, Not Sorrow CD,
I’m safe in the lair
that is my room.
The place
I’ve always felt safest.
Where it’s just me
and my thoughts
and my letters to Lucca.
Safe, that is,
until he visits me
outside of my dreams.
Sitting in my chair,
writing in my notebook,
a cold, invisible feather
tickles my cheek.
A soft brush
of whispers
strokes my hair.
There is nothing to see.
Nothing to hear.
But I know with all my being
Gabe is with me
in my lair.
And I have to wonder,
is this God’s way
of kicking me out?
#287
Dear Lucca,
I hate this. What have I done to deserve this? I don’t know.
But I feel so alone and like there will be no end to this madness. I mean, how does it all end?
Love always,
Brooklyn
Fri., Jan. 20th—Nico
Something urges me
to go.
A feeling.
A hunch.
A voice that says, “She’s there.”
Even if she said this morning
she wouldn’t go, things change.
Sunny one minute, pouring the next,
we’re all like Mother Nature
when it comes right down to it.
So I make some calls,
find out where the party is, and I go.
I spot her dad’s car, parked on the street,
a head behind the wheel.
I knock on the window and she rolls it down.
Tears are streaming down her face.
“What are you doing here, Brooklyn?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her face filled with sadness,
it actually pains me to look at it.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
I open the door and pull her to her feet.
She reaches up and grabs hold of me,
and so we stand there, just holding each other.
Sunny one minute.
Pouring the next.
Sat., Jan. 21st—Brooklyn
“I’m going for a run,”
I tell my dad.
“A run? When did that start?”
“Last week.
Just trying something different.”
“You know, a dog would be
something different,” he says.
It makes me smile.
Can’t blame the guy for trying.
When I see Nico at the track,
he doesn’t say anything about last night,
and I’m glad for that.
I don’t know what happened.
Looking for something
in the wrong place, I guess.
At least it was another night
of no dreams.
I run faster.
Gotta make sure
I’m good and tired tonight.
Sat., Jan. 21st—Nico
We’re running the track
and I can’t help but think
it feels like
she’s running from something.
Or someone.
I glance behind us.
But of course, nothing’s there.
After all,
aren’t the scariest things in life
those things you can’t see?
Sat., Jan. 21st—Brooklyn
As we walk to our cars,
I ask Nico, “What was the name of your dog?”
“Wow,” he says. “That’s random.”
“My dad’s been wanting to get one.
And I was thinking about Lucca.
How he said he never wanted another one.”
He nods.
Looks up at the sky as we hear a rumble.
“His name was Oreo.”
Right.
Not candy.
A cookie.
“What about you?” I ask him.
“Would you ever get another dog?”
We stand by his truck.
Raindrops start to fall,
and I watch as they dance
on the pavement.
“I wanted to get another one.
Lucca didn’t. So, we didn’t.”
“You could get one now,” I say.
As soon as I say it, I regret it.
Like he’d rather have a dog
than his brother.
He reaches for the door handle,
ready to take cover from the rain.
&nbs
p; Or my stupid comment.
“See ya later, Brooklyn.”
I wave and walk to my car,
kicking myself the whole way.
Sat., Jan. 21st—Nico
I stop at the park again
and swing.
Slow at first.
Then higher and higher.
Back and forth.
I close my eyes and let the rain
pelt my face.
Back and forth.
I’m glad for the rain.
Back and forth.
It’s good camouflage.
Sat., Jan. 21st—Brooklyn
I stay up
until my head literally hurts
I’m so tired.
I go to bed with
Lucca’s music
softly playing in my ears.
I tell myself it will protect me.
He will protect me.
Wherever you are, Lucca.
Please.
Protect me.
Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico
Pop asks me over breakfast
how the job search is going.
“Not a lot out there right now,” I tell him.
“Maybe when summer comes and I have more time.”
“Well, you sure have a lot of time to work out,” he says.
Pisses. Me. Off.
He never would have told Lucca,
You sure have a lot of time to draw.
He could do no wrong.
I, on the other hand,
can apparently do no right.
Sun., Jan. 22nd—Brooklyn
I wake up refreshed
and ready for the day.
Nico’s taking me
on a long bike ride.
I look outside,
happy to see the
clear sky and sunshine
after yesterday’s storm
has passed.
It’ll be chilly,
but it won’t be wet.
So far, I love working out.
It’s only been a few days,
and sure, things could change.
But I love it.
And I realize,
it’s been a really long time
since I’ve said that
about anything.
Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico
“Look at that sky,” she says.
“Have you ever seen a sky as bright as that?”
I hadn’t noticed anything,
thinking too much about where we’re going,
how far, and if we have everything we need.
I take a second to look up,
shading my eyes from the piercing sun.
“Dazzling,” I say, trying to be funny.
Then I wonder, how long has it been
since I actually looked at the sky?
We ride our bikes through the city,
to the road that heads toward the beach.
We won’t go quite that far.
But here, on this road,
we can stretch out and ride.
Here, on this road,
we can feel the sun on our skin
and smile.
Here, on this road,
it feels like maybe,
just maybe
everything will be okay.
Sun., Jan. 22nd—Brooklyn
When we find a spot
to stop for water
and a PowerBar,
I can’t help but notice
how relaxed Nico looks.
Riding definitely suits him.
We sit in the tall grass,
far enough back,
no one from the road
can even see us.
It feels like a place
you can safely
share secrets.
“Do you ever get scared, Nico?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“What scares you?” I ask.
He lies down in the grass
and closes his eyes,
the sun his blanket.
“You mean besides big snakes?”
I laugh. “Yeah. Besides that.”
“Besides eating the school’s turkey pot pie?”
“Yes. Besides that, too.”
The breeze blows, ruffling the grass,
and I almost don’t hear him when he whispers,
“I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
The honesty in that reply
takes my breath away.
Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico
“What do you mean?”
she asks me.
And I could tell her.
Right here, I could tell her
my brother’s been haunting me,
because he’s worried about her
and now I’m worried about her
and I just want to know what’s going on.
“Are you doing okay?” is all I can manage.
“I just get … worried sometimes.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I’m okay.
I mean, as okay as I can be.
It’s been a hard year. You know that.”
He sits up.
“You scared me Friday night,” I tell her.
“Want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head no.
And suddenly there’s this awkwardness
that wasn’t there before.
“We better head back,” she says.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.
Ma will kill me if I’m late for dinner.”
I stand up, reach my hand down,
and she takes it, so I can help her to her feet.
As I start to walk toward the bikes,
she grabs my arm and says,
“Nico. Thank you.
For letting me do this race with you.
It is helping me.
You are helping me.”
Man, I hope she’s right.
Sun., Jan. 22nd—Brooklyn
I’m tired.
But there’s laundry,
grocery shopping,
dinner,
and homework
all needing to be done.
At least Daddy helps me with the
grocery shopping.
“Let’s just grab burgers for dinner,” he says
on our way home from the store.
We head to his favorite burger place
and as we do,
we pass by Another Galaxy.
My mind starts racing.
It’s Sunday.
I didn’t go today.
My heart pounds.
“Dad,” I say. “What time is it?”
“Six thirty. Why?”
Crap. It’s closed.
It closes at 6:00 on Sundays.
“I, just, I wanted to go to Another Galaxy.”
He laughs. “You have enough comics to read.
You have a whole box, right?”
That’s not the point.
It’s our thing, Daddy.
It’s always been our thing.
Sun., Jan. 22nd—Nico
Ma asks me
to help her make baked ziti for dinner.
She hands me one of her aprons.
“I don’t need it, Ma.”
Her eyes narrow.
Like cooking without an apron
is worse than riding a motorcycle
without a helmet.
“Fine,” she says. “Do it your way.”
I sigh and grab it from her.
“I can never do anything right, can I?”
Now she sighs. A long, tired sigh.
“Nico, that’s not true.
You’re a good boy. We love you, son.
You know that. Don’t you?”
She reaches up and gives my chin a slight squeeze.
I nod.
And then I put on the apron.
Mon., Jan. 23rd—Brooklyn
Kyra sees me
talking to Nico
as we make our workout pl
an
for the week.