Her Hidden Past Page 10

  Brooklyn jumped out of bed early the next morning. It was still dark outside at 6:00AM. There was a notebook on her nightstand with a note from Rachel that read, “To help you get it all out.” Brooklyn kicked the book under the bed. Writing down the feelings she was trying to ignore was the last thing she wanted to do.

  After making her bed, Brooklyn put on one of her new swimsuits, grabbed a towel, some clothes, and her new goggles and ran downstairs to the pool. When she opened the sliding door into the pool area, the familiar smell of chlorine filled her lungs, bringing a brief smile to her face. She set her towel and sweatshirt down on one of the chairs and walked to the deep end of the pool. It had been two weeks since she had been in the pool.

  She looked down into the water and stared at her reflection for a few seconds. Then she put on her goggles and dove down deep, gliding horizontally through the water like a dolphin. Her body felt completely weightless as she slid through the water. As soon as she started slowing down, she began kicking rapidly toward the surface until her arms broke through. All of Brooklyn’s memories came flooding back when she hit her second length of the pool: memories of her mother, father, and brother. She was the only swimmer in her family, and they supported her unconditionally.

  Sometimes in the summer afternoons she would spend time with her mom in the pool on kickboards. They would go back and forth across the pool, talking. She tried not to think about that fateful night two weeks ago, but it was hard to put it out of her head. She remembered Nick’s smile as he walked out of his room—the last time she saw him. She could feel her mother’s arm as it wrapped around her. If only she could have told them both how much she loved them. Her father came home that night after she was already sleeping. If only she could have known, somehow, she would have stayed up to see him. She was angry that she didn’t get to see him one last time. She never got the chance to tell him she loved him and that he was the best father in the world.

  The more she remembered, the harder she kicked, and the faster she moved her arms. The anger that was inside her was propelling her forward as the water washed over her body. She tried to remember the sound of her father’s gentle voice, but all she could hear were the screams of her mother. Back and forth she glided across the pool, like a fish trying to escape the jaws of a shark, until, finally, she was exhausted.

  She stopped in the middle of the pool and flipped over onto her back. Brooklyn tore off her goggles and floated there, letting the gentle waves of the pool carry her body. The rhythm of the small waves beneath her began to calm the anger inside her. She lifted up her hands. Her fingers looked like giant raisins, and she decided to warm up in the hot tub.

  Brooklyn climbed out of the pool and, after turning on the jets, she lowered herself into the warm bubbles. The jets felt soothing against her back and she relaxed and closed her eyes. Brooklyn never imagined that depression could impact not only her mind but her physical body, as well. After fifteen minutes, the jets turned off. Brooklyn climbed out of the hot tub, running for her towel. The room seemed unreasonably cold after the heat of the hot tub. Brooklyn wrapped her body up in the towel and stood there trying to warm herself. She smiled at the thought of how lucky she was to have the pool and hot tub to use at her disposal. She realized that access to the pool and the hot tub was her escape. It was a way for her to begin healing. It was a way for her to release her anger and calm herself down. This was her saving grace.

  By the time Brooklyn made it back up two flights of stairs to her shower, she was freezing again. She didn’t mind, though—it was worth it, and she would continue to swim every day if possible.

  After her long shower, Brooklyn put on a white long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and bright, striped, warm fuzzy socks. She dried her hair with her new hair dryer and put on some of her new makeup at her own vanity. On the way out of her room she looked at herself in the mirror, her blue eyes glowing next to the light-pink eye shadow and black mascara. Worried she would forget their faces, she stood there in the mirror trying to decide if she looked more like her mother or her father. She finally concluded that she didn’t significantly look like either of them. She pulled her hair up and off her neck and tried to decide whether or not to wear it up. Her hair had a little static from blow-drying. Brooklyn was used to letting her hair air-dry in the California breeze. She finally let it go, her hair falling down her neck and back. She put a hair rubber band on her wrist in case she changed her mind later. Brooklyn put on a light-blue cashmere pullover sweater and slipped into her new fuzzy slippers.

  On the weekends, she was used to being the first one up. As a morning person, she never really understood sleeping in. Instead, Brooklyn enjoyed taking small naps throughout the day. She opened the refrigerator, and browsed for a few minutes. She finally decided that she wasn’t hungry. Her appetite had diminished significantly in the last few weeks. Instead, she plopped down on the sofa, enveloped by the couch and cushions. Her body sank into the plushness of the couch. Closing her eyes for a minute, she felt a sense of ease as the cushions surrounded her body. Brooklyn scanned up and down all 352 channels twice, finally settling on the fact that there was nothing on the television that interested her.

  Her wristwatch read 8:15AM. It was early on a Sunday, even for Brooklyn. She went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator again. After staring at some eggs, pancake mix, turkey bacon, and bagels, she settled on some cold cereal and a banana for breakfast. She was not looking forward to meeting with the psychiatrist later in the day for her first appointment. The Thompsons had scheduled the unusual Sunday appointment with their family friend. Brooklyn had one goal in mind: she needed to convince him that she was normal enough to go to school. She began to formulate her plan as she ate her breakfast alone.

  Rachel came downstairs a short while later with Greg. Brooklyn talked to them for a few minutes before Greg left to take Rachel to the airport.

  “How was the water this morning?” Greg asked Brooklyn.

  “It was good,” she answered.

  Rachel squeezed Brooklyn before she left. “Your whole life is about to change. You’re opening a new chapter now, and somehow you have to learn how to say good-bye to the old one. I think that no matter what you feel right now, you don’t want to miss out on what lies ahead, even if there are more sad times to come, because you can never get this time back. Just promise me you’ll try your best to keep pushing forward.”

  Brooklyn nodded, acknowledging Rachel’s last words. However, she had serious doubts about whether or not she had the strength deep down to accomplish that.