Two men. Lies. And a Pig.

Two men died in the city last night, according to the newspapers Brooke glanced at before she laid them down in Dorothy's pen. One was a detective, the other suffered from a mental disease. Both were murdered. Both left behind friends and family, of some sort. Although Brooke did not read the articles or obituaries fully, she pondered the lives of these men all day. Did they have children? Was the mental illness debilitating? How can you know your effect on someone's life until you pass? 


While she wished to cogitate on the answers to her inquires, she had more pressing matters to deal with such as  the growing Dorothy, and more emotional turmoil. Her father and Silvia were coming over for a visit today to see the new pig and to congratulate her on making all A's and B's despite traumatic events throughout the school year. This would be their first encounter with Brooke as an official "couple." While Brooke knew she would always be her Dad's "Bubblebutt", Silvia's "cariña", and her Mom's little girl, she wished she could just be 
someone's "Brooke." After effectively alienating the popular kids at school, friends were hard
to come by, but Dorothy made Brooke's life worth living again. The little piglet was fast growing
into a full grown  potbellied pig, the ideal house pet. She was smarter than most dogs and 
as loving as any animal could be. 


She was on speaking terms with her mother, and she was coming to terms with the events of 
her childhood. The lies of Russia, Costa Rica, and why they had to move were brutal but 
necessary. How else would Brooke have coped with the idea that her maid was dating her
father? How else could she have dealt with the truth?


Brooke remembered Ms. Clara's advice in the graveyard, about patching up your family before it 
is too late. As Dorothy snuggled in her lap, she came to understand that her family may be 
broken, but she was not alone. She actually had a quite wonderful life with a new job, good 
grades and the promise of a wonderful education, a lovely Sherwood Forest to see the
beauty of nature, and a beautiful pig. 


Brooke held her beloved pet by its red sparkly-sequined collar, reminiscent of Dorothy's ruby 
slippers, and whispered "Thank you, for saving me." Dorothy grunted softly and licked her nose.

A Prime Piglet.

As Brooke continued her anger-filled life, something spoke to her in the most unexpected place possible: the 9th grade math final. The multiple choice question read: What is 1 (one)? A) A prime number, B) A lonely number, C) A single item,  D) An integer, and E) All of the above. Brooke lazily evaluated the answers, when she realized: She was one. The number, that is. Alone and a single item and prime. She quickly chose E) All of the above, and flipped the page. All day the number one haunted her. The boy in front of her in the lunch line had a jersey with number one. The afternoon announcements said "Our Lacrosse team is #1 in that state!" The sidewalks were filled with single people, hurriedly headed home or to work, no groups stood anywhere. 


At Sherwood Park, a single swan swam alone in the serene scene of Waterbury Lake. Brooke cried silently for his single life. He was one, as she was. But suddenly a second swan appeared, with 2 babies. They paddled together and started a slow tour of the lake with these new baby animals.

Maybe one doesn't always have to be a lonely number, or even person. 


Brooke stopped by Alfonso's pet store on the way home, intent on buying a baby chick or duckling because of the swans she had seen. But when she walked toward the "Easter" display, a small pen of piglets caught her eye. The sign read "Clearance pigs-$20." Brooke knelt down and a tiny pig trotted over to sniff her. She had the bluest eyes Brooke had ever seen, reminding her of the bright checked dress Dorothy wore in the Wizard of Oz. "Hello Dorothy," Brooke whispered, and internally resolved to always protect her. She realized she had been there several minutes and coincidentally, that she had no money, and was about to ask the manager for an IOU when he said "If you want the pig, you're going to have to take a job here." He seemed to be kidding, but Brooke's eyes lit up and she responded "Oh yes! I've always wanted a job!"

She left the store with a beautiful piglet in her arms and hopes of responsibility in her life. After the arson of Forever 21, Brooke was worried that no opportunities would arise for teenage workers in this small town, but the serendipity of choosing Dorothy had indeed been most fortunate for her. 


Veronica Adams gulped when she saw the pig, she almost started yelling until she saw Brooke's smile. She remembered how important that smile was to her, how it made her feel like a millionaire, and she hadn't seen it in awhile. She knew to restore their relationship, she would have to bend. And the pig was rather cute, even if she did hate all living things.


Brooke sat the pig down, barely a foot long, and it cantered over to her mother's feet. Veronica felt its soft bristles and saw its blue eyes. "She's got bonnie blue eyes, sweetheart. What a beautiful animal." Brooke said proudly, "Her name is Dorothy."


Later that night, Brooke sat in her room coaxing Dorothy to drink from her bottle because she was slightly to young to be eating proper pig food yet. Veronica Adams quietly knocked and asked "May I come in?" She did, quietly closing the door behind her. She sat down timidly at the end of the bed, observing the feeding. She saw frustration in Brooke's eyes as she cared for her pet, but true love. Motherhood instincts were obviously going to help Brooke as she cared for this pet.

Veronica said "Sweetheart, I just want you to know that we all love you. You have never been alone or abandoned. It's just been messed up, okay?" And with that, Brooke began to cry and curled up in her mother's arms, for the first time in long time. 

Anger

A permeable frustration circled Brooke's mind, clouding her thoughts, making everything in her vision have red edges, like Hell was invading her life. She discontinued her schoolwork. She visited Sherwood Park nearly everyday but no longer saw the beauty of nature, only the recurring event if having her father, mother and Silvia talk for the first time since she was 9. Disgusted with her inability to forget this "reunion," she tried to walk her anger away. But no matter how far she traveled, her fury would not retreat.

“Sweetie, do you want to talk? Do you want to go on a vacation to get away from this? Hello?” Brooke’s mom would ask as Brooke silently walked through their apartment to noiselessly close and lock her bedroom door. Veronica Adams was very worried about Brooke. She had thought after the “incident” that Brooke would see what an awful man her father was and stop idolizing him and Silvia once and for all. Yet Brooke had turned on all of them. Even her precious housekeeper, who baked with her, coddled her, and practically raised her. Brooke turned in disgust when her father asked if she wanted to come live with him and Silvia. Not a single teacher had been able to get her to talk on the few days she had been to school in the past few weeks.

Brooke heard her stomach grumbling in the early morning hours, silently picked herself off the forest floor in Sherwood Park, and made her way home to find food. Ever since the reunion, the house had been stocked with all of Brooke’s favorite foods. Probably a lure to keep me from running away away, she thought angrily before discontinuing her thought process. When she went in the house her mother quietly asked “Bubblebutt? Do you want to go Casa D’ Waffles for breakfast?” And just as Brooke was going to turn and go to her room, the quiet word “Yes” slipped out of her mouth. Her mother’s smile froze and Brooke could see the excitement growing in her eyes, could see hopes of maybe repairing their relationship. Fat chance. I’m just hungry and this is a free meal.

They exited Apartment 424 and walked down the road to the restaurant. Brooke could sense how uncomfortable her mother was with the silence, and proceeded to ignore her even more. They all should be punished for the lies, she thought. Russia? Business trip? Family in Costa Rica? No contact for THIS many years? Fuck everyone. They ate in silence, only broken by the sounds of the restaurant, never by a voice. Veronica paid, thanked the cook, and they left for their apartment.

A man approached going the opposite direction, looking as though he was on his way to work at the bowling alley. His monogrammed shirt said “Robin” and he stared intently at Brooke, as though trying to read her thoughts. When they got closer, he looked as though he was about to say something, and Brooke’s thoughts began to race. What could a man in a bowling alley shirt named Robin tell me? Wouldn’t it be great to hear something other than the words ‘Are you okay?’ come out of anyone’s mouth when they talk to me?” His mouth opened slightly, she could hear words forming,and somehow deep in her heart she knew she needed to hear what this strange man had to say. But then he glanced at Veronica, seemed to change his mind, and merely walked around the pair, like he had never made eye contact with Brooke.

Brooke’s anger rose to unimaginable levels after this man walked around them. Everything is awful because of my parent’s. I am alone. She started sprinting, ignoring her mother’s calls after her. Brooke made her way to Sherwood Park and collapsed, crying herself into a deep sleep.

She dreamed of a large multi-colored bird, flying over hills and valleys and streams and wildlife, bypassing everything. As the bird wheeled by a small Midwestern-town, Brooke saw herself, in a hot air balloon. There were hundreds of hot air balloons everywhere, yet this amazing creature chose to land on the edge of her basket, in the middle of nowhere. As Brooke dreamed, she watched herself shrink away in awe from the bird. Quietly she said “Why me?” The bird did not answer, but instead, turned around and allowed her to climb onto its back. Down below Brooke’s parents and Silvia screamed and screamed, until they grew red eyes and dragon tails and devils’ horns, but not wings. In a voice eerily similar to Albus Dumbledore, the bird said “Those who live in lies will not be able to harm you where I can take you.” They flew away together as a rainbow cascaded from its tail, showering hope and vibrant colors down on every place they flew over. Brooke saw herself smile, and the smile reached her eyes. With an out-of-body-experience, Brooke realized she hadn’t seen her own eyes smile in months.

They traveled to a valley in the center of a ring of mountains, where the moon created a perfect reflection in the center of the lake. Brooke played with beautiful centaurs, friendly mermaids, and ethereal faeries. She laughed and smiled and never felt pain or hurt or frustration. Each day seemed to run into the next, and she saw beautiful sunset after sunset. One day Brooke asked her bird-friend “Will I ever return home?” He calmly answered “You are home. This is not a vacation, but a reality.”

Brooke awoke with a start to the sound of the forest.

Family?

Brooke was stalking the town, pacing the streets in casual cutoffs, a white t-shirt, and keds. It was 6:30 in the morning, but the sun was covered partially by distant clouds, making the day bright but grey, almost. Her shoes pittered and pattered down the pavement, flying by all the slow pedestrians in her path. She was too excited to sit around her apartment and wait for her father and Silvia to arrive. They had called earlier this week, and promised her they would be coming into town this morning, around 10. But how could she sit still when the 2 people she had missed most in her life would be arriving again? She couldn't wait to her her father say “Bubblebutt” and to hopefully bake cookies with Silvia. She wanted to know all about Russia: how cold it was, the sights, the life, the people, and how it felt to ride in an airplane over the HUGE Pacific Ocean. Brooke had never flown in an airplane before, and it was a dream she sometimes had as a child to become an airline attendent and never touch the Earth again. She also wanted to know how these 2 people had gotten together to come see her, and what Silvia had been doing since her mother and herself cruelly left her when her father went on his business trip. I hope Silvia isn’t mad at us, She thought worriedly.

Veronica, Brooke’s mother, had said nothing about her husband and former maid coming to visit. When Brooke told her of the phone call, she paled and shakily said “How nice of them to find us.” That was all she would say on the matter. Later that day, Brooke’s mind kept tumbling over those words: Find us? Have we been hiding or something? But she pushed those thoughts away and focused on her happiness.

As she walked down Brownstone Boulevard, she saw an older man stumbling down the street in front of her, carrying a shopping bag with 3 cartons of cigarettes and 2 loaves of bread. The birds at his feet flew up twittering in protest when he lumbered through their flock. When she she approached, he tripped and fell. Compassionate as she was, she hurried over to him and helped him up. He slurred “Do you have a father?” Brooke was almost frightened, but it was light outside and there were people walking around. With no need for fearing the man, she said happily, “Yes! I haven’t seen him in a few years and he’s coming into town today and-”

“Don’t listen to his bullshit. Fathers are just life-fuckers.” And with this shocking piece of advice, he bent down, picked up his shopping bag and the whiskey flask engraved with the word “Pink” that had fallen out of his pocket, and continued on down the street. Brooke looked after him with strange look on her face and sinking feeling in her heart. Why did that I run into that guy today, of all days?

Shaking her head, she crossed the street to go sit on the benches in St. Magdelene’s cemetery. The birds chirped and passed each other from the trees and bushes surrounding the graves, speaking only of love in their cheery tones. She wasn’t scared of graves or tombs as normal people were, mostly because when she was little she used to play hide-and-seek with her friends in the graveyard down the street during the afternoon into the night. Brooke always saw these kinds of places as semi-formal playgrounds with interesting stories behind each play structure. As she sat twiddling her thumbs, she noticed a woman in puce scrubs kneeling by a grave, not moving, for several minutes. Brooke’s began to worry that something was wrong when a bird stood right beside her and she did not move, so she got up to go check on the woman, who looked vaguely familiar. As she approached, she recognized her as the nurse called “Ms. Clara” who gave her back-to-school vaccinations at the free clinic. She was crying helplessly in front of a large tombstone that read “Mr. & Mrs. Holloway.” When she gently touched her shoulder, Ms. Clara leapt to her feet. “What do you want?” Cautiously Brooke said “I was just making sure you’re alright.”

Ms. Clara wiped her eyes and said “Lemme ask you something-do you have a family?” Brooke was about to say Yes, I’ve got a mother and my father’s coming into town with our old maid and-

And she realized she didn’t. Have a family, that is. She had parents and a former housekeeper. But families lived together and kept in touch even when they were apart and actually cared about the people they lived with. Brooke had none of this. Her eyes welled up with tears.

Ms. Clara patter her back in the maternal way she learned during her time as a nurse and said “There, there sweetie. Don’t cry. I’ve just come to realize much later in life how important my family was, and they were gone before I could grasp it. Now maybe you can patch your family up before you’re grown.” She smiled and glanced at her phone. “Oh goodness, I’m late for work! Can’t keep the patients waiting!” She quickly darted out of the cemetery and briskly walked out of sight.

Brooke sank into the ground, wishing for a breeze in the still morning air to wash away the heat from her skin. She noticed after several minutes that the tombstone she was now staring at said "To infinity and beyond." How strange. A Buzz Lightyear quote? Then Brooke noticed that the weathered stone had a child's name and age on it. He only lived till he was 6. The two empty plots beside his tomb made her realize that whoever Luke Stanley was, his parents had outlived him. On top of his tomb was a weathered Buzz Lightyear toy, arms stretched towards the grey sky as though he wished to fly again, but was instead keeping the boy safe by protecting him.

She realized she was on her own in the world, at a young age. No one was there to protect her, not even Buzz Lightyear.Unless she reunited her broken “family.”

A Call From The Past

Brooke was attempting to shower away the confrontation that just happened with the strange woman outside Castle Apartments, but it was not a successful endeavor. Even after 45 minutes in the shower, she still felt unclean after she stepped out of the shower. Brooke wiped the clutch as clean as she could, and threw it out down the stairwell of Castle Apartments so that she no longer had to hid the small purse, or think about it. After she curled up in her old quilt on her bed, she started daydreaming about her childhood again. Daydreaming about her 4-person family was the Brooke’s only solace nowadays. While she drifted in and out of sleep, she remembered the day she came home with her first project in kindergarten, a diorama of an Indian reservation that had gotten a check+. Brooke had hurried in the front door and ran into her mom’s office, shouting “Mommy, Mommy look! I got a good grade on the project me and daddy did together! LOOK!”

Veronica, Brooke’s mom, turned around and said distractedly “That’s great honey. I’m working on a big deadline today. We’ll celebrate later.”

“But mommy, can’t we--”

“Not now sweetheart. Now go on, I’m busy,” and she turned back to her mountain of paperwork. Her promotion at work was riding on finishing this work, and her ambition blinded her from the hurt look on her daughter’s face. Brooke turned and left the room, and Silvia was waiting outside the door with fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. In her Hispanic drawl she said “Let’s go to the kitchen mi cariño and talk about your day.” They had dinner later that night just the 3 of them, Silvia, Brooke, and her father. Veronica declined to eat, and Brooke thought she didn’t care anymore. From that day on, she went strait to the kitchen after school, not up to see her mom in her office anymore.

Brooke sluggishly awoke and decided to find her cell phone before she went back to sleep for good. When she did find in it in the pocket of her jeans from that day, the new voicemail icon was blipping brightly. Tiredly she hit call and waited for the message to play. A Hispanic voice chattered “HOLA mi cariño! It is Silvia! Your father and I have missed you very much! We managed to track you down after all these years! My number is 459-328-9870. Por favor call me as soon as possible! We want to see you again Bubblebutt!”

And without a second thought of her own mother and the repercussions of her actions, Brooke excitedly dialed back and waited for someone to pick up.

Attacker???

As Brooke walked towards Castle Apartments from her weekly trek to Sherwood Forest, her stomach grumbled. She had felt alone since her time apart from her school "friends", but their influence was not the best. My life is better without them. But gee, I wish I still had SOMEONE to talk to, she thought gloomily as she shuffled down Popular Avenue. Her hunger pangs continued, and she made a split-second decision to walk down to Casa D' Waffles, which was in a corner of town she hadn't been to since December. Brooke knew her old friends still hung around there, but her fear of awkward situations and seeing everyone again made her wary of stepping into their territory. Still, it was March, and they didn't show up there until much later a night. It was only 8 o'clock, after all, but as dark as twilight.

When she placed her hand on the worn door handle of the restaurant, mouth watering with the anticipation of a fresh waffle, Brooke noticed one of her old friends loitering outside the strip club. She quickly ducked inside, ate her waffle, and hurried on her way home before anyone recognized her. Brooke walked quickly across town with her head down towards Castle Apartments until flash of color caught her eyes, and when she looked up she nearly ran into the woman in front of her.

The woman was wearing a black sequined mini dress that had come down to expose her red lacy bra, with a thin sweater that seemed out of place for this windy March night. Geez honey its not spring yet. Put some pants on, Brooke thought. Her hair had vomit on the tips, her shoulder had a bleeding gash, and she looked to be in her early 20's. She had many shopping bags but her purse was only a small clutch in her hand, which Brooke knew from her past wild-child experience would probably not contain an ID, only money, lipgloss, and a cell phone. Surprisingly, the clothes on her body and in the bags looked well-used, as though the woman had only a few items to wear, like she had no other possessions. Sequins were missing in areas where they would have rubbed off, and her body smelt unkempt. 


Brooke tapped on her shoulder and asked “M’am? Need help?” The woman didn’t answer and continued to stare up at the apartments in a drunken daze. A sharpie mark on her left forearm read "peeeetrtaa," which didn't make much sense at all, and from the stench of alcohol on her body and the stamp on her right hand made it obvious that this woman had been at Isabella’s Cafe.

Brooke decided to go through her purse to find an ID, because obviously no one could help this woman until they knew her name, whatever it was. When she gently took her clutch to begin investigation, the woman awoke with a start. "Wha-wha-whats going on?" She attempted to look around then, then woozily asked "Who are you?" The woman dropped her bags and began massaging her temples, while Brooke caught the majority of her bags before they hit the ground and spilled everything. She started to respond calmly, when the woman screamed "Why do you have my purse??? And my bags?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Why did you hurt me?"

Brooke backed away slowly, unsure of how to react. She was trying to help! As the lady, whoever "peeeetrtaa" was, kept on screaming, Brooke turned and ran. Whatever, I didn't do anything, I'm going home, she thought as she jogged inside the front door of Castle Apartments.

Only when Brooke arrived inside her apartment did she realize that she was still holding the unknown girl's clutch, and 2 of her bags. Oh shit.

Christmas & Close-Calls

After quietly closing her front door at 1 AM, Brooke officially sneaked out of her modest apartment & was free of her mother's light snores. She was excited to be out of the house and find adventures in the early morning hours of December 22. Softly she sang to herself We gonna take over the world while these haters gettin' mad That's why all my bitches bad, they see this crazy life I have and they in awe, which was Brooke's new favorite song since the "popular" kids at school introduced her to Mac Miller's world. Ever since the block party, her life was filled with a whirlwind of colorful vomit from mixed drinks every weekend, colorful make-up stolen from any and every place possible, and a colorful headache that never ceased. Even as Brooke slid out the back door of Castle Apartments, her head pounded with uncertainties and her moral compass screamed Go back upstairs! Something bad will happen! Don't associate with these people!

But Brooke pushed the voices away and walked quickly to the street corner to meet up with a group of mostly juniors and seniors, with the exception of the HOT James Tyler, who Brooke wanted to date more than anything in the world. Their group had taken a liking to the young girl when they learned the she was intelligent yet innocent to the ways of a real high school party life. They introduced her to the practice of sneaking out and coming home drunk and the art of smiling to the cashier so you don't get carded and how to roll the best blunt and methods for putting on eyeshadow and everything else a teenage slut needs to know. Brooke relished in this knowledge. But at least once or twice during the week she slipped away from everything to visit Sherwood Park to relax. She still considered this haven a private place and almost feared having any of her friends invade her privacy by coming there or even knowing she went there regularly.

The group noisily welcomed her and they slowly made their way up the street to Casa D' Waffles, where everyone unanimously agreed to go because they were STARVING from the munchies. Just as they reached the restaurant, someone yelled "Hey! Let's go to Isabella's cafe!" As everyone turned and walked across the street, Brooke's heart skipped a beat. She knew it was the time of night when unsightly things would be happening inside this crummy establishment, because it was the city's famous strip club. And her little conscious yelped This is where it all started! PLEASE don't go back! But she opened that door and strutted through like it was a runway. Some girl on stage winked at her, and the battered digital sign above her read "Evelyn." Someone ordered margaritas and 2 pitchers of beer, and the night began to blur. Faces ran together. The music got louder and louder. Evelyn started dancing to a techno remix of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and everyone laughed at their fun free lives, so close to the edge of danger but not close enough to fall. James whispered in her ear "The stage is free. You should get up there." And without a second thought, she jumped on the stage and danced.

That is, until the bouncer bodily threw her over his shoulder, carried her across the room, and tossed her out the back door. She landed in a puddle of dark muddy snow and heard a sickening crack as her face hit the pavement. Brooke reached up and realized that her forehead was gashed to the skull and bleeding profusely. Her stomach twisted, and she vomited, a feeling that used to sicken her but now was just another sensation she was dead to. She slowly peeked in the window of the door she was thrown out of, and saw her friends. They were laughing and drinking. No one noticed the altercation, and no one noticed she was gone. Not even James.

Brooke laid back down, in the vomit and mud and tears, for hours maybe. She grew colder and colder as the snow continued to fall. Until she realized that she needed help. Slowly, she made her way to the free clinic, where the receptionist Rosa took several tries to properly pronounce her name, and smiled kindly at her as she was called into a room to be seen. "You be good to your momma now, okay sweetie?" said Rosa as she thought of her own relationship with her mother when she was that age, and Brooke smiled tiredly back. As she sat in that doctors office, Brooke thought about her mother, and what she would think of this life she'd been living for the past few weeks. A tired middle-aged nurse stitched up her wound and said "You've lost a lot of blood. If it had been and hour or two more, you might have been unconscious."

Brooked shuffled home, clothes stained and ripped, thinking about her mom. I've been an awful daughter. I have become an awful person. But do I have the strength to stop? These were the kinds of thoughts that occupied Brooke's mind as she crept back up the stairs and through the door of her Apartment. Dreams of a former home life and the woods surrounding her old house crowded her mind.

She awoke with a start, at 6 AM. Even though she'd only had 1 hour of sleep, it was enough to rejuvenate her tired soul. She grabbed her cell phone and a mason jar full of change, intent of redeeming her soul by helping the poor blind man she had seen a few weeks before. After only a short time, she found him, in front of the place where EVERYTHING had happened, wearing tattered Santa garb. How could she not remember him from only a few hours ago? She ignored this thought, and dumped her entire jar into his Salvation Army bucket. He croaked "Thank you." Then "He puzzled and puzzed till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. Maybe Christmas, he thought... doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps... means a little bit more!" Brooke grinned and said "Gee, thanks mister! Christmas does mean more!" She walked home, while calling the radio station 100.4 until finally the friendly radio broadcaster Leon Van Damme answered with a prompt "Helloo? This is Leon Van Dammen with 100.4, taking Christmas requests for the holidays. What do you want to hear this morning?" Brooke spluttered for a moment, not expecting to make it through to such a popular station, then requested I'll be Home For Christmas. Leon promised to play it, and Brooke ran home & up 4 flights of stairs to turn on the radio. As she did, Bing Crosby warbled out "And I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams..." Brooke sat down on her tattered couch and dozedly dreamed of a perfect life, with her perfectly happy mother & her perfect father back from business engagements and the perfect Silvia providing hot chocolate for their perfect 4-person family.