Chapter 57: Chapter Fifty-Six: It's Time

Chapter Fifty-Six: "It's Time."

"I WANT SOMETHING new." I say out of the blue.

All seven of us are sitting in Justin's room. I'm on his bed, and Lacey's beside me with Justin sprawled out across my lap, Casey on Lacey's, and Jason, Johnny, and Jody on the floor.

It's Friday night, almost a week since I've been here, and things have been great. No problems, no Stacy, no ex-boyfriends making surprise visits.

"New?" Justin questions, turning his head to look up at me instead of the TV.

"Yeah." I shrug.

"Like, what kind of new?" Lacey asks. "You already want a new wardrobe, what else do you want?"

"A tattoo."

Suddenly all heads are turned to me. "What?" Everyone says in unison.

"Yeah," I say, "I want a tattoo."

"Why the hell would you want a tattoo?" Casey asks.

"I've always wanted one." I explain.

It's true, I've been wanting to get a tattoo for a couple years now. Nothing big or attention-drawing; just a small-medium sized tatt that means a lot to me. Something that has deep meaning.

"What did you have in mind?" Lace asks.

I reach over and grab her sketchbook from her nightstand, and start doodling my idea. I've had this one exactly planned out since I was in prison. I wanted to get it then, but I didn't trust other prisoners permanently inking my body.

After about ten minutes of me sketching, I place the pencil in my mouth and spin the book around.

I hear the girls gasp, but the boys still look lost. "Brookie, it's amazing."

"I know what you're talking about," Justin starts, "but I don't exactly know why."

"I've gone through hell, and y'all know that." I explain. "This is my power. What kept me sane. As soon as I thought about it, I knew I needed it."

"Um. . . what does it say?" Jason asks.

"la fuerza es la única potencia que necesita." I say, chuckling a little. Clearly he still hasn't bothered learning anymore Spanish–which is totally unsurprising.

"And that means. . . ?"

"Strength is the only power you need." I explain.

"Ohh." He hums. "Hey!" He exclaims. "That totally makes sense!"

I chuckle. "Yeah, I know. That's why I chose it."

"So what does the anchor stand for?" Johnny asks.

"That even though I've felt anchored down for all these years–physically, emotionally, and mentally–it means that no matter how bad things rock my boat, I still won't float away; that I'm here to stay and that I'm no going anywhere."

"That's. . . different." He says. "It's totally cool, in a girly way I suppose, but sentimental meaning? I'm still lost."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, you know what the lettering stands for, so I obviously won't elaborate on that, but for the anchor, it simply means that you can do your worst to me, but I'll still be in the same spot."

"To be honest, Brookie, that sounds like an indirect way of saying that if you go down the gutter, you won't get free; and that no matter how hard you try to pull at that chain, it simply won't break."

I blink at him. Twice, three times.

Shit, he's right. I'm crazy for even thinking that a stupid anchor could symbolize anything but weakness.

"You're right." I sigh, snatching the paper that's currently in Jason's hands and ripping it up without hesitation, tossing it in the bin next to me.

Johnny's eyes grow wide, and a look of sympathy and remorse falls onto his face. "Brookie, I didn't mean–"

"Nope, no. I get it. It was stupid." I say, nodding. "Maybe I'll just get the writing instead."

"But–"

"Johnny, seriously, don't. You opened my eyes about it. Thank you." I smile, and lean over, giving him a hug in which he awkwardly accepts and pats my back uneasily.

The door downstairs is hit, making an echo of knocks ring throughout Justin's house. "Pizza's here!" Justin exclaims.

"I'll get it!" I say, leaning back from the edge of his bed and pushing his head off my lap.

"Money's on the coffee table." He hollers out.

I snatch the thirty bucks off the glass and just as, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I'm quick to grab it and answer. "Go for Brooklyn." I pant as I rush to the door and throw it open, revealing the pizza delivery guy.

"Hey sweetie!" My dad's voice says throughout the speaker.

"Papa, hi! Why are you calling? It's late." I say into the phone, and while the man in front of me gives me questionable eyes, I ignore it and hand him the money, taking the pizzas out of his hand and placing them on the table beside me. I wait patiently as he digs through his bag, calculating my change total.

"Oh, goodness, it's late there?" He asks.

"Yes, Papa. It's eleven at night. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, darling! I am good. I'm currently in Australia, so, you know, time difference. Are you okay to talk for a moment?"

"Yes, of course." I reply. The delivery man hands me the change and I smile at him, silently thanking him for giving us pizza and close the door. "Where are you in Australia?"

"We've just landed in Brisbane, so I thought with the few minutes I have to spare I could give you this message."

"What message?" I ask. "Is it bad?"

"Nope!" He says. "So honey, you and I both know that you have made some progress since last being in Los Angeles." He begins, making a huge grin make it's way onto my face. It feels really good to hear someone else say it instead of having myself convincing me that I'm fine and making progress when most times, I was not.

"Yes, I am aware." I say, encouraging him to continue.

"I have spoken to your psychiatrist." He says, making a lump form in my throat. Hearing that, makes me nervous. Not that I haven't made progress with my psychiatrist, because truly, I think I have, but this goes to the point that I really have given her a rough time these past few weeks I've been seeing her.

"And?" I ask nervously, gulping.

"And I'm pleased with the results." He says. "I know it's patient confidentiality or whatever, but she's said you've been improving greatly, and that your sessions may not last as long as your previous doctor."

"R-really?" I stutter in pure shock. "She said that?"

"Something along those lines." He says. "Anyway, I wanted to reward you for it."

"Papa, you already rewarded me for having good marks by allowing me to come all this way without you or mom to watch me. What more could you offer?"

"Brooklyn," he says deeply. "Not only have your grades improved and your mental health, but you're bettering yourself! You're exploring the fundamentals of independence, and you're not heavily relying on others like you had previously. You're mother and I are exceptionally proud of you and we're so happy you're getting better.

"So, as a result, we're offering to let you stay at home, alone, by yourself for the rest of the weekend, just to test your true healing. It's also a gift from us for not being able to be there physically to support you. I know how extremely lonely and stressed you are not having one of us there to be with you during times of need."

My jaw drops, and my mind goes blank. He and mom really think I've made enough progress to trust me to be alone in our house? For the first time, ever, dad and mom are looking past my history and focusing on my true potential? I'm so overwhelmed, I just want to scream, cry, laugh, and jump for joy all at the same time.

"Brooklyn!" I hear one of the boys shout. "Where the fuck is the pizza? I'm starving!"

"Just wait!" I scream. "I am having a mental shock, here!"

Dad laughs on the other line, and sighs. "So, sweetie, what do you say?"

"Daddy, I. . . I don't know what to say." I say in shock. Never in my life had I ever expected this moment to happen. Honestly, I never even expected them to let me move out when I turn eighteen due to certain circumstances.

"Well. . . do you think it's time? Or do you want to put it on hold for the time being?" He asks softly. "The house isn't going anywhere, sweetheart. New York is only temporary and we'll be moving back after you've gone away for college."

I smile in content, rolling my lips in between my teeth as I confidently whisper back to my father, "It's time."

I can almost hear the smile stretch across my dad's face. "Good." He whispers back. "I'll have Ms. Jensen hand you the key in the morning."

"Thank you, Papa. I won't let you or mom down."

"I'd hope not, sweetheart. Just one condition, though, alright?"

"No parties, promise." I say, giggling.

"Wonderful! Now that that's handled with, go have fun with your friends, mija, and we'll speak later, alright?"

"Alright, dad. Love you."

"I love you, too, angel. Goodnight."

"Night daddy."

"Brooklyn!" I hear them scream again. "Where the fuck is my fucking pizza?"

"Stop cussing at me!" I scream back, snatching the pizza off the table, and walking back upstairs to Justin's bedroom.

"'Bout time!" Johnny hisses, lunging at the box full of half cheese half meaty deluxe pizza, snatching three slices of the deluxe.

"Pig." I mumble, taking my seat back, resting Justin's head back on my lap after he grabs a slice. "So, guess what." I announce after a few minutes of everyone calming down and eating.

"You ordered another pizza because you let this one sit too long and it's already got frostbite?" Johnny suggests, and I toss a pillow at his face. "Brooklyn! You got pillow all over my pizza!"

"Screw that!" Justin exclaims. "Johnny, you got pizza all over my pillow!"

"Blame Brooklyn!"

"I'm blaming you!" Justin shoots back.

"What? Why?" Johnny whines. "She started it."

"I ended it." He says. "Besides, she was gone five minutes. Stop being a puss."

"You always take her side." He grumbles.

"He's mentally ill if he chooses you over her." Jason states, making me grin.

"Well unlike her, I've never been to prison." Johnny retorts unconsciously, and my stomach drops.

I wasn't expecting that.

"Johnny!" Lacey exclaims, giving him the deadliest glare she could muster–and believe me when I say that that glare is enough to make a WWE wrestler think twice. "You idiot!"

"Okay, okay," he grumbles, "I went a little overboard. I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare apologize to me. Apologize to Brooklyn you nincompoop!"

"Sorry."

"It's fine." I say blankly.

"I really am," Johnny sighs. "I didn't mean to make such a reference. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay, Johnny. Really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am."

No, I absolutely am not.