Brooklyn, page 12
“He stood there with his mouth shut while they attacked me. You don’t understand. I confided in him. I trusted him. At least you tried to help, and I appreciate that. But that nigga didn’t say a word. Meanwhile I’ve been covering for him for months.”
“You think you’re the only one who knew?” Hope looked at her sister with the same contempt Brooklyn had seen in the eyes of her parents. “I knew. Maybe all of us did in some way. We might not have seen it with our own eyes, but we knew it. For YEARS! And you would have known it, too, if you cared about anybody else but yourself. You were too selfish to notice how depressed he’s been for so long, or how hard he was struggling to fit in. Not just because he’s shy or antisocial. But because he’s gay, and we all knew Daddy would react like that. He’s kicking him out in the street.”
“A few minutes ago, he was ready to kick me out, too. And where was the cavalry coming to my defense?” Brooklyn asked.
“I defended you!” Hope yelled.
“Thank you,” Brooklyn said, half-heartedly. “But tonight showed me how it really is around here. I’m the one who’s the problem. Just me, apparently. So, fuck it. From now on, let’s play dirty.”
Hope closed her eyes and prayed silently for the strength to deal with the madness within her family. She opened them again, shook her head at Brooklyn, and rushed back downstairs to help her brother.
She heard the front door slam and her father’s voice booming.
Sabrina slammed open the door to Brooklyn’s room, grabbed her by the shirt and pushed her back against the wall. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
“You have single-handedly destroyed this family. Nothing will ever be the same and I’m not sure if you even care.” Sabrina’s body shook uncontrollably. “Your brother is gone and it’s your fault. God knows what might happen to him out there on the street. All of it is your fault. You’re getting out of this house. If Amir has to go, so do you. I’m putting you in a group home, Mt. Loretto, some type of military school—something! You’re on the road to hell, Brooklyn. If you don’t seek God, one day life is going to chew you up and spit you out. I’m not going to sit around and watch it happen. You’re getting out of here. And I can’t wait to see you go.”
She stormed out of the room, and Brooklyn stood there staring at the shut door. Her mother’s words replayed on a loop inside her mind.
Her heart sank at the thought of being sent to Mt. Loretto. It was a place her mother had threatened to send her before. The Catholic charity–run facility was on a sprawling, gated campus on a tree-lined street that seemed harmless on the outside. But it was a school for wayward girls. An institution that Sabrina had studied extensively and had often threatened to enroll Brooklyn in over the years whenever she stepped outside the lines Sabrina had drawn around her precious family dynamic. The rules were strict, and being sent there would mean total isolation from her friends. And from her freedom. Dread washed over Brooklyn.
She heard the sound of her father raging downstairs and her mother’s pleading voice. Brooklyn snatched a tank top and some leggings from her dresser drawer. She rushed into the bathroom to take a shower to drown out the noise. She took her backpack with her, scared now that her mother would seize every opportunity to search through her stuff. She washed and tried her best to calm her nerves before she reluctantly returned to her room. Her parents were in their bedroom now. The door was open, and she overheard their conversation.
“Where’s he gonna go, Eli? We can’t just throw him out like that. You wouldn’t even let him take anything.” Between each sentence, Sabrina sniffled.
“He’s dead to me. That shit is an abomination. How can I get up there and preach the gospel when my son is messing around with men?”
There was a pause before Sabrina responded, her tone unemotional and matter-of-fact.
“Brooklyn is no better. We gotta get her out of here immediately.”
Brooklyn slipped quietly into her bedroom. Hope was lying in the fetal position crying softly in her bed. Brooklyn could hear her sobs as she dabbed at her eyes with a wad of tissues balled up in her hand. Brooklyn climbed into bed, still sore from the beating she had endured that day. She closed her eyes and wished she could change all the decisions she’d made when she woke up that morning. Going to Alonzo’s apartment, fighting Janine, arguing with the police, and drawing the unwanted attention of Miss Nancy. She wished she could undo all of it.
Most of all, she regretted leaving her mother alone at home for those hours. Taking the ride with her father had given Sabrina plenty of time to go through Brooklyn’s things and uncover the truth. She chided herself for keeping the paperwork from the clinic. That had been a dumb move.
She thought about the look on her father’s face when he learned the truth. She realized that had been the thing that sent her over the edge. Her mother was someone whose approval didn’t matter one bit to Brooklyn. But her father was different. She thought about the time they spent together that afternoon, how he had held her as she cried. She wondered how things would be between them from now on.
She was certain that there was nothing she could ever do to repair the rift she had created within her family. Amir was gone, and her parents were in crisis mode. Hope was an emotional wreck, and none of them would probably ever forgive her for exposing the truth about their family’s sins. She felt no remorse, even for Amir. She reasoned that he had his chance to pick a side. It wasn’t her fault he had been rejected by the side he chose.
She turned over and thought about Alonzo. Until Erica revealed the truth about him, Brooklyn thought he was going to be her ticket out of the life she felt trapped in. Now, she realized that she would have to figure her own path of escape. She decided that she would run the first chance she could. And once she got out, she was never coming back.
She didn’t sleep. Couldn’t really. Thoughts of her brother haunted her every time she closed her eyes. She assumed that now he hated her, and she felt sad about that. Each time she tried to doze off, the events of the past several hours replayed in her mind. Finally, she gave up and lay awake staring up at the ceiling. As Hope slept softly and the house fell into that dead-of-night silence, a switch in her mind was triggered. She realized that her path to freedom had been laid out perfectly for her. It was a new day and her time was now.
She climbed out of bed at 3:30 A.M. while Hope was still asleep. She slipped a T-shirt and hoodie on, pulled on a pair of thick socks, and put some jeans on over the leggings she was already wearing. It was November and cold outside. She had to prepare for the chill. She looked around her room and tried to etch each detail into her mind. She packed her diary, her toothbrush, some extra socks, and some underwear. She made her bed up, neatly fluffing all the pillows and ran a sweeping hand across the comforter. Just like her mother taught her. Then she walked out of the room and shut the door slowly behind her.
The door to her parents’ room was closed. She walked silently past it. She paused as she neared the door to Amir’s room. It was slightly ajar, and the room was dark. She wondered where he was and if he was safe. Guilt flooded her like a tidal wave, knowing deep down inside that she had betrayed him. She reminded herself that Amir hadn’t had the decency to throw her a lifeline when she needed it. She picked up her chin and pushed forward with her plan.
Quietly she crept downstairs and into her father’s study. She slid open the desk drawer on the upper right and retrieved the keys to the kingdom. Shutting it again, she tiptoed out of there. She stopped in the living room and looked around, searing the image into her memory. Then she retrieved her thick winter parka from the hallway closet, crept to the front door, and slipped out into the night.
It was dark and quiet outside. Brooklyn realized that she had never been outside this late. The realization filled her with a mixture of thrill and trepidation. She rushed down the street with her heart pounding hard in her chest. For the first few blocks, she glanced around anxiously, looking behind her to make sure that no one was following her. There weren’t many people outside. Each time a car drove past, she pulled her hood down farther to cover her face. She chided herself for being paranoid. Then, as one dark car drove slowly past, the driver honked his horn at her. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she panicked. Gripping the straps of her backpack, she took off and ran the rest of the way to the church.
Breathless, she arrived at the gate trembling with fear. She looked around at the quiet block and assured herself that no one was watching her.
“You’re okay,” she told herself. “Just keep going.”
She pulled the keys out of her pocket and flipped through them in search of the right one. She knew that the largest one was the key for the padlock on the gate. After fiddling with it for a few tense moments, she finally unlocked it and shut it behind her.
She rushed to the doors of the church and told herself that she was almost there. Just a few more steps and she would be on her way. She searched the ring for the key she had seen her parents use countless times over the years and slid it smoothly into the lock. She turned the knob, walked inside, and was immediately struck by the eerie silence inside. It was pitch-dark, but she could make out the familiar silhouettes of the pews and the altar. She strode quickly through the sanctuary, assuring herself that God would forgive her for what she was about to do.
She went to her father’s office and unlocked it. She stepped into the room and paused. As a kid, she had sat in the corner doing her homework while her father met with the deacons, trustees, and local politicians. Just a few hours earlier, he had prayed with her there.
She recalled the look on his face when he learned the truth about her. Repulsion and shame. It was an image she would never forget.
Walking over to his desk, she sat down in the chair and began rifling through the adjoining file cabinet. She knew that her father kept a stash of cash there. “The building fund” as he called it. She found the slim envelope in the back of the drawer, just as it always was. She slid it out and began counting the cash inside. She counted it again and confirmed the total of $1,300. She had been hanging around Alonzo enough to know that it wasn’t much. But it would be enough to get her out of Staten Island by morning. She tucked it into the front pocket of her backpack and zipped it.
As she rose to leave, her foot hit an object underneath the desk. She glanced down at it and her heart skipped a beat. Mrs. Hutchinson’s box. She stared at it for a moment, hesitantly. Then she bent down and picked it up. Placing it on the desk, she opened it and gasped.
The box was full of cash. Lots of it. She froze, thinking instantly of Alonzo and what he would do if this money came up missing. She thought about Erica and the fact that Alonzo and Mrs. Hutchinson were her family. She knew that it was wrong. But she also knew that she needed that money. She reminded herself that Alonzo had lied to her, rejected her.
She started counting the money, then quickly realized that she didn’t have enough time. There was far too much cash and she had to get going before she got caught. At any moment, her parents could wake up and discover her missing. Looking at the money spread out in front of her, she did her best to estimate the total. It was easily several thousand dollars in all denominations. She shoved it all back into the box, shut the lid, and picked up the phone on the desk.
It took several rings. It was, after all, the middle of the night. Brooklyn hung up and dialed again. This time, the call was picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?” the gravelly voice answered.
“Hey,” Brooklyn said hurriedly when Stacey answered. “It’s Brooklyn. I’m in trouble and you’re the only person I can call. Can you help me?”
Stacey groaned, still half asleep. “Brooklyn … what the fuck? You alright?”
“Yes and no. I just need your help. Can I come to you? I have nowhere else to go.”
Stacey hesitated. “You got beef?”
“No,” Brooklyn lied. “I just got beat up. Alonzo got arrested. I need somewhere to go. Just until I figure out my next move.”
Stacey thought about it. She assumed that Alonzo had gotten violent with Brooklyn. She sounded so scared. “Okay,” she said. “Come uptown. I’m here.”
“Thank you,” Brooklyn said. “Please don’t tell anybody I’m coming.”
“Okay, okay,” Stacey said. “I got you.”
Brooklyn hung up and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:20 A.M. She knew a ferry would be leaving at 5:00 and tried to figure out how to get there. Unlike the other boroughs, Staten Island had no yellow cabs. She decided she would hop on the next bus heading in that direction. Grabbing her backpack, she slid it on and clutched the shoebox against her chest. She stopped, set the keys to the church down on her father’s desk, and left. She shut the door to his office, strode smoothly through the sanctuary, and glanced at the altar.
Brooklyn paused, kneeling down in front of it with the box of money held tightly to her chest.
“God, forgive me for what I’m doing. Forgive my family, too. Please watch over Amir…” She opened her mouth to say more, but the words escaped her.
She stood up, walked quickly to the door, and rushed out into the night.
As she hurried down Richmond Terrace toward the bus stop, she considered going back. Just putting everything back the way it was and facing the wrath of her parents. Guilt tugged at her, mercilessly. She stopped walking, convinced that going home was the right thing to do. Then she could hear the rumbling of a bus approaching in the distance. She took it as a sign to keep going. She rushed to the bus stop a few feet ahead and flagged the driver down as he approached.
“I don’t have any change,” she said as she climbed onboard without paying and sat in the back. To her relief, the driver didn’t protest.
Brooklyn sat near a window and watched the scenery as the bus barreled toward the ferry. She sat back in her seat and got lost in her thoughts.
So, this is what freedom feels like. Kinda scary, not knowing what’s about to happen. But at least I know I can take care of myself. I can go wherever I want and start a new life.
She sighed as the realization sank in. Staring out the window, she promised herself that she was never coming back here. She was leaving Staten Island for good.
CHAPTER SIX
Runaway
Brooklyn sailed across the Hudson on the John F. Kennedy vessel of the Staten Island Ferry fleet. She was one of few passengers that morning, most of them heading to work. She sat in a seat near the window and watched as the island she had called home for years faded from sight for what she hoped would be the last time. She was glad to see it go.
All she could think about was the money.
She sat back and looked around at the people seated nearby. She wondered what they would think if they knew that the shoebox on her lap was stuffed full of cash. She smirked, betting that she had more money in her possession than most of them had in their bank accounts. She waited until the ferry approached the Statue of Liberty. Then she made a beeline for the bathroom.
She locked herself inside a stall and opened the shoebox. She began counting, stacking the cash into stacks of $500 inside the lid of the box. She kept going, focused, with her feet planted firmly to steady herself against the ferry’s rocking. She counted ten stacks of $500 and set it aside. She stuck them inside of a sock she retrieved from her backpack, then stuck the sock way down at the bottom of the bag. A voice came over the loudspeaker announcing that the ferry was preparing to dock. There was still a great deal of cash inside the box. She closed it, emerged from the stall, and joined the rest of the passengers as they disembarked.
She caught the train uptown like she had done countless times before. Her trips to Harlem for Alonzo had always taken place in the daytime. On those occasions, she had the benefit of the city’s bustling population, allowing her to easily blend in with the students and commuters. This time it was different. There were fewer people on the train and a heavier police presence than she was used to. She avoided the cops on patrol, careful to keep her head down so they wouldn’t notice the bruises on her face and her swollen lip and eye. The last thing she needed was for them to start asking questions, requesting her name and ID, asking where she was going. She had no answers for those things. She hadn’t thought that part of her plan out well enough. All she had determined was that she didn’t want to wake up that morning in her family home having to face the wrath and disappointment of her parents.
She thought about Amir, imagining that he had likely sought refuge at Jordan’s place. She pushed past the guilt she felt about exposing his secret, assuring herself that it had been for the best. Now they were both free from the tyranny of their parents, and Brooklyn had enough cash to give them both a fresh start.
Emerging from the subway, Brooklyn squirmed as rats scampered past and homeless people dug through trash cans nearby. She walked swiftly, dodging the rodents, and keeping an eye out for stickup kids and rapists. She clutched the box tightly as she walked to Stacey’s building on 134th Street. She walked inside, took the elevator upstairs, and walked down the familiar hallway. She stopped at apartment 4M and knocked.
Stacey unlatched the many locks on the door and opened it. She stepped aside and let Brooklyn in.
Brooklyn slid her hood off and looked at Stacey.
Her eyes widened. “Damn. Alonzo did that to you?” Stacey asked.
“In a way,” Brooklyn said. “But not really.”
Stacey led her into the living room and gestured toward a chair. Brooklyn sat down while Stacey walked into the kitchen.
“You’re lucky I was home,” she called out. “Just came back from out of town this morning. Been gone for three weeks.” She came back into the room with a block of ice wrapped in a towel. She handed it to Brooklyn.
“Thank you.” Brooklyn held it to the left side of her face, which hurt the worst. “I appreciate you letting me come here.” She glanced down the hall toward the rooms she had never been invited to enter. She assumed they were bedrooms and had no idea who or what might be in them. “Are we alone? Can I talk freely?”
