Hard Working Brooklyn
The first time I met my brother, he was a little boy. He had just turned seven and his name is Peter. His father died when he was still very young so it’s been up to me ever since then to look after him. We lived in the same building as our mother but she wasn’t home much because of her job at the hospital where she works.
She does really important work there which means that sometimes she has to be away for days on end without warning us ahead of time. It can get pretty lonely here with no one else around besides Peter and myself.
Peter and I were sitting together outside waiting for Mommy to come back from work. The sun was shining brightly overhead and we could hear children playing nearby. Our block isn’t too bad, not like some of them out by the waterfront or even downtown.
There are lots of kids living all over this neighborhood; there must have been fifty families within walking distance who had small children under ten years old. Most people only live in these apartments until they’re grown enough to move into their own place though, so you don’t see many babies running around anymore.
“What do you want to eat?” asked Peter excitedly as soon as he saw his mom coming down the street towards us. “I’m hungry!”
Mom smiled warmly when she got close enough to see us both. Her long brown hair was tied up behind her head and she looked beautiful today wearing a white blouse tucked into her blue jeans. She always looks good, especially now that she doesn’t smoke anymore.
She walked right past us without saying anything before turning around again and heading straight inside. That’s how it goes most of the time whenever she comes home from work. Sometimes I think she forgets about us while she gets ready for bed.
But if that happens I know what to expect: once she finally turns off the light and lies down next to me, she’ll start talking nonstop for hours. Tonight would probably be different though.
It took almost half an hour before Mom came back outside carrying two bags full of groceries. She handed one bag to each of us and said, “Here you go.” Then she went into the apartment to put everything away.
We sat side-by-side on our stoop eating dinner. The air smelled great tonight, fresh and clean after a day of sunshine. After we finished eating, Mom told us to wait there for her while she grabbed something from inside. When she returned, she was holding a large box wrapped in bright red paper.
It was heavy, but she managed to carry it over to where we were standing.
“Open this,” she instructed.
My hands shook nervously as I tore open the wrapping. Inside was another present: a brand new bicycle! My eyes lit up when I saw it. This was way better than any toy I’d ever gotten before. All I wanted to do was jump right onto the bike and ride away, but Mom stopped me.
Instead, she helped me take the seat off and set it aside. Then she showed me how to adjust the handlebars so that I could reach them easily. Once I was done, she pushed me forward slowly so that I wouldn’t fall.
“Go ahead and try it out,” she encouraged.
I pedaled hard and fast around the sidewalk, feeling free and carefree for the first time in ages. It felt amazing to feel the wind blowing through my hair and to smell the freshness of springtime in the air. As I rode past other pedestrians, they stared at me in amazement as if they couldn’t believe someone so young could actually ride such a big bike. They didn’t say anything though. What did they know?
After riding around the block twice, I slowed down and headed back towards home. On the way, I passed a group of older boys playing baseball in the park across the street. One of them spotted me and yelled out, “Hey kid, wanna play ball?!”
Before I knew it, I found myself following the gang of eight-year-olds over to the field. They started throwing balls to me and I caught every single one. Soon everyone was cheering for me, calling out things like, “Wow, you’re really good!” and “You’ve gotta be kidding me! How old are you anyway?”
But none of it mattered. To me, they were just ordinary kids. Their lives weren’t anything special either. They were going to grow up to become doctors and lawyers and teachers. And someday, maybe they’d find themselves working in hospitals and schools like Mommy.
That thought made me sad. I loved being able to spend time with Mom, but I wished she didn’t have to leave us alone so often. I wish she could stay here forever.
As I continued to watch the game unfold, I realized that I wasn’t the only one missing Mom. A little girl was crying softly beside me because she missed her mother too. We stayed that way for a while until the boy whose team I was on won the last inning.
Everyone cheered loudly and high-fived each other. I watched him run toward the parking lot where his car was parked, laughing and waving goodbye. He turned around one more time and shouted, “Bye guys! See ya later!”
Then he was gone.
The little girl reached out for my hand. She had short black hair and dark skin like mine. She was dressed in a pink shirt and denim shorts. There was a tear running down her cheek. She looked up at me and whispered, “Will you come with me?”
I nodded silently and held out my arm. She climbed onto my shoulders and then I carried her back to the apartment building. Once we were inside, I placed her gently on the couch.
Mom was sitting in front of the TV watching some show about a woman who lived in New York City. She smiled when she saw us and asked, “What happened to your clothes?”
“They got dirty,” I replied.
“Oh, okay,” she answered casually.
“Where’s my sister?” I asked.
“She went to her room,” she responded.
I waited patiently for her to finish whatever program she was watching. Finally, she closed the television and said, “Come sit by me.”
I walked over to her and sat next to her on the sofa. She took my hand and squeezed it tightly.
“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” she asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t think talking will help,” I explained. “Nothing can make me forget that man or stop worrying that he’ll hurt anyone else again.”
“He won’t,” Mom insisted. “If there is even a chance that you might see him, I’m sure the police would arrest him immediately. You shouldn’t worry anymore.”
“How do you know?” I questioned.
“Because I trust the people who work for me,” she replied.
“And what if they aren’t trustworthy?” I retorted.
Mom sighed heavily and leaned against me. Her head rested on my shoulder. After a moment, she stood up and spoke quietly, “Let me tell you something important. No matter what happens, no matter how bad things get, never lose hope. Never give up.”
Her words comforted me somehow. Maybe all this fear and anxiety wouldn’t go away completely, but knowing that I had someone to turn to helped ease my mind somewhat.
***
The next day was Sunday and I spent most of it relaxing on the couch. The weather outside was sunny and warm enough to warrant an afternoon swim. I decided to take a dip in our pool instead. In the meantime, Mom was busy doing laundry and cleaning the house.
My sister came downstairs wearing a pair of white shorts and a blue tank top. She was carrying a towel and a book bag filled with books from school. As soon as she stepped into the living room, she noticed me lying on the couch reading.
“Hi,” she greeted me cheerfully.
“Hello,” I returned politely.
She sat down next to me and began flipping through her textbooks. When she finished looking at her notes, she put her hands behind her head and stretched. Then she glanced at me and asked, “Are you having fun?”
“Yes,” I told her truthfully.
“Good,” she replied happily. “You deserve to be happy after everything you’ve been through lately.”
“Thank you,” I answered sincerely.
We chatted for a few minutes before my mom called us upstairs. My sister grabbed her stuff and followed me into the kitchen. Mom handed her a plate full of pancakes and bacon and then she started cooking herself some eggs.
When everyone was ready, we sat down together at the table and ate breakfast. It was nice spending time with them without any distractions. I enjoyed listening to their conversations and sharing stories about my life. For once, I felt like myself again.
After we finished eating, I decided to go swimming. I changed into my bathing suit and headed outside. The sun was shining brightly above me and the water glistened invitingly beneath me. I dove straight into the cool ocean and swam for a long time. Eventually, I stopped to catch my breath and look around.
I spotted two girls playing in the sand nearby. They were splashing each other and giggling. One of the girls wore a yellow bikini while the other one was in a green one-piece. Both of them had brown hair and tan skin. I watched them play for a minute before turning my attention back to the ocean.
As I continued to swim, I heard a splash beside me. I turned my head to see a young boy standing waist-deep in the water. He was staring directly at me. His eyes were wide open and his mouth hung slightly agape. Before I could react, he dove underwater. I couldn’t believe what I saw. But then I realized that he must have been trying to scare me. And yet, I still didn’t feel safe. Something wasn’t right here.
I swam faster towards the shore. A few seconds later, I reached the beach and ran up the steps. I quickly entered the apartment and locked the door behind me. I looked around frantically until finally spotted a set of keys hanging on the wall near the entranceway. I picked them up and hurried into the bedroom where my mother was waiting for me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw me coming inside.
“There are kids playing in the water!” I exclaimed.
“Kids? Where?” she wondered.
“Over there,” I pointed towards the beach.
Mom got up and went out onto the balcony. We both stared down at the scene below us. There were children everywhere! Some of them played in the shallow waters while others built castles and jumped off cliffs. Suddenly, I realized why the boy had tried to scare me earlier. This place was dangerous.
“Come inside,” Mom said calmly.
Once we were safely indoors, I took a seat on the couch and waited for my mom to explain what was going on. She walked over to the window and gazed outside. Then she turned back to face me and explained, “This is a resort. People come here every summer to spend time by the ocean. Most of them bring their families along. So far, it hasn’t caused any problems.”
“But why did you say ‘most’?” I questioned.
“Well, there are always a few bad apples who ruin things for everyone else,” she admitted.
“Like those kids,” I added.
“Exactly,” she nodded.
A few minutes passed before she spoke again. “Do you want to stay here or would you rather leave?”
“Can we go home now?” I begged.
“No,” she shook her head sadly. “It will only get worse if you do.”
“Why?” I cried. “The people here don’t seem dangerous.”
“They’re not,” she assured me. “But they can be very unpredictable. You need to learn how to handle yourself so you won’t end up getting hurt. That’s the whole point of this trip, remember? To give you an opportunity to practice your new skills. If you run away, you’ll never be able to use them properly. Now calm down and listen to me. Everything is okay. Just follow my instructions carefully and everything should work out fine.”
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly.
“First, let me show you something,” Mom instructed. “Then you can tell me what you think about all of this.”
She led me to the living room and showed me a large book lying on top of the coffee table. When I opened it, I found pictures of various people from different backgrounds. Each picture had a brief description written next to it. The first page contained photos of a family sitting together at the dinner table.
Next to them was a man wearing glasses and holding a newspaper. Underneath him was another photo of a woman reading a magazine in bed. The last person pictured was a young girl doing homework at her desk.
“These are some of our guests,” Mom told me. “Each one has a story to share. Can you read the descriptions underneath each image?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“Good,” she smiled. “Now try to guess which guest belongs to each photograph.”
I flipped through the pages until I came across a picture of three men standing side by side. Their faces were hidden beneath hats and sunglasses.
“That one looks like a businessman,” I guessed.
“Excellent choice,” she praised. “And look at the next picture. It shows a group of friends having fun at the beach. Do you know who these people might be?”
“Of course,” I answered confidently. “Those are definitely tourists.”
“Very good,” she applauded. “Next, take a closer look at the third picture. What do you see?”
“Two guys with guns!” I shouted excitedly.
“Yes, that’s right,” she confirmed. “Who do you think they are?”
“Vampires!” I blurted.
“You’re correct,” she acknowledged. “Would you mind looking through the rest of the book and telling me what you find?”
“Not really,” I shrugged.
“Great,” she grinned. “Let’s start with the second page. Who is this couple?”
“Oh, I know exactly who they are,” I announced proudly. “They’re a married couple. They have two sons. One of them is a teenager. He loves video games and he spends most of his spare time hanging around with other boys. His parents worry about him because he doesn’t pay much attention to school. But he does love sports, especially football.”
“Is that true?” Mom inquired.
“Yeah. And then there’s the other son. He’s younger than his brother but he acts more mature. He likes studying and wants to become a doctor someday. In fact, he already knows a lot about medicine. Last year, he helped his mother deliver a baby.
Everyone was surprised when he volunteered to help. Of course, it wasn’t easy. At first, the little guy wouldn’t stop crying. But the older boy didn’t panic. Instead, he stayed calm and kept trying to comfort him. Eventually, the infant stopped screaming and began sleeping peacefully in his father’s arms.”
“Wow,” Mom breathed. “That sounds like a great kid.”
“He is,” I nodded. “His name is Mark. I’ve seen him several times since I moved into this house. We play basketball sometimes. Sometimes, I even watch TV with him. He’s nice.”
“So, you have no idea where he comes from?” Mom asked.
“None whatsoever,” I responded. “But I’m sure he has a wonderful life somewhere.”
“How about the next picture?” Mom continued. “What do you think this lady is doing?”
“She’s cleaning her kitchen,” I explained. “Her husband cooks delicious meals every day. She’s probably washing the dishes while he prepares tomorrow’s meal. Then she’ll clean the living room and make sure everyone takes their shoes off before entering the house.”
“Interesting,” Mom mused. “Does this sound familiar to you?”
“Sort of,” I admitted. “We live alone in a big mansion too.”
Mom closed the book and placed it back on the coffee table.
“Do you feel better now?” she asked.
“A bit,” I sighed. “It’s just so hard not knowing anything about my past. Why did I end up here? Where am I originally from?”
“Have you ever thought about asking your dad or brothers for answers?” she wondered.
“No,” I shook my head. “Why would they want to talk about such things?”
“Maybe they don’t know either,” she suggested. “Or maybe they simply haven’t shared the information with anyone yet.”
“Well, I can ask Dad,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he will tell me everything if I show an interest in learning more.”
“But how could you possibly learn something you never knew existed?” Mom countered. “If you had no clue about your existence, why should your family bother explaining the details to you?”
“Because we all deserve to know,” I argued. “I shouldn’t be treated any differently than anybody else.”
“Hmmm…” Mom pondered. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Thanks,” I smiled.
“Are you ready for bed?” she asked.
“Almost,” I replied. “Can I finish reading the book?”
“Go ahead,” she agreed. “Just remember to put it away once you’re done.”
“Okay,” I promised. “See ya later.”
The End