Page 50 of The Brooklyn Way

“I know. It’s just that my mom wants to see you. She doesn’t want you to be alone today. She wants us to meet her.”

Brooklyn looked hesitant but finally relented. “Okay. What time is it?”

“Fifteen minutes to six, and we need to be there by seven.”

Misty Trace Beach backed up to my parents’ property line. It was technically public but because my parents lived in a gated community the public couldn’t access it. My parents, Carrington, Bryce, Nyrah, Big Red, and Pop-Pop were already standing at the shore when Brooklyn and I arrived.

A table had been set up. They were crowded around it.

“What’s happening?” Confusion was evident in her voice. “My grandparents are here. How did you get my grandparents here?”

“Carrington got your grandparents here, baby. Today is August ninth. We’re celebrating your mother’s birthday.”

With no preamble or forewarning, Brooklyn broke down in tears. I knew part of her reaction was hormonal and based on the fact that she had her period. The other part, though, was based in the here-and-now.

I took her hand and propelled us forward toward the crowd. When we met up with her grandparents, Brooklyn fell into her Pop-Pop’s arms sobbing so hard that tears began to form in her grandmother’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” her grandfather crooned in a soothing tone. “It’s okay, Brookie. This is a long time coming. Your mother has deserved this for so long. We do it for your daddy every year, but we don’t honor Raquel the way we should.”

Big Red dug tissue out of her crossbody purse and handed it to Brooklyn when she was finally able to collect herself.

“Thank you.” She gave Big Red a bone crushing hug. “What are you and Pop-Pop doing here?”

“Well, your gentleman friend over there invited us to come here to celebrate your mother’s birthday, baby. He said he was putting together a little memorial. Your grandfather and I agreed to come right away. Don’t be rude; formally introduce us to your friend.”

Wrapping an arm around my waist, Brooklyn introduced us. “Big Red, Pop-Pop, this is Cameron Field. He’s Carrington’s twin brother. Cameron, these are my grandparents, Jessup and Ruth Waverly.”

I exchanged a handshake with her grandfather, while her grandmother pulled me into a warm hug and said, “Everybody calls me Big Red, baby.”

Big Red brushed a few pieces of wayward hair from Brooklyn’s face. “Your Pop-Pop is right, Brookie. We celebrate Paul every year with a big to-do, but oftentimes, Raquel’s memory gets lost. When Carrington called me and told me about her brother’s plans and Mr. and Mrs. Field offered up a guest bedroom in their fabulous house, we couldn’t say no. Have you seen their house? I’ve never seen a house so fancy.”

Brooklyn chuckled while swiping away more errant tears.

“Carrington picked us up at the airport and brought us here. Now, we’re gonna commemorate your momma the way she deserves.”

Brooklyn walked over to me. She lay her head on my upper stomach and wrapped her arms around my waist. I returned the hug, making sure to squeeze her tightly.

My mom spoke up. “On today, August ninth, we take time to remember Raquel Ann Green Waverly. Anybody who wants to say a few words about Raquel is welcome to do so. Then we have these flower petals.” She gestured toward the table that was filled with petals of all colors and shapes. “They will be released into the water. We also have bubble guns, if you would rather salute her with bubbles. Finally, I have rice paper and pens here. You can write a message to your beloved Raquel. You can place the paper in the ocean. It will disintegrate, causing no environmental hardship. Who would like to speak?”

“I’ll speak.” Carrington was the first to volunteer. “I met Mrs. Waverly a few times as Brooklyn’s roommate. She was the nicest, coolest person. She would send Brooklyn these over-the-top care packages stuffed with stylish shorty-pajamas, eco-friendly laundry detergent, luxury body wash, hair ties, chocolate from Belgium, and gift cards for Chipotle and Starbucks. I mentioned to her how nice they were and how I was jealous because Brooklyn’s care packages were the best and she started sending them for me, too. I always felt lucky to have a great roommate who also had such a great mom. Mrs. Waverly made a real impression on me. I promised myself that when my future children get to college, I’m going to make sure to include their roommates in the nice things I do for them.” Carrington walked over and pulled Brooklyn into an embrace.

Both of Brooklyn’s grandparents said kind words and shared memories of Raquel Waverly.

Finally, Brooklyn cleared her throat to speak. “Even though this is the first formal memorial gathering for my mom since her funeral, I talk to her all the time. I talk to her when I’m scared, when I’m worried, when I’m sad, when I miss her the most, when I feel helpless, when I feel happy and when I feel… all right. So, I don’t have a speech or anything. She already knows everything. Right now, I’ll just thank her. Thanks Mommy. Thank you for being you and for… everything.” This time as the tears poured from her eyes she leaned on me. I held her close and kissed the big auburn curls on top of her head.

“Okay, so you all can grab handfuls of flower petals, you can grab bubble guns, or you can start writing out your private message for Mrs. Raquel Ann Green Waverly.” Mrs. Field directed her next statement to Brooklyn’s grandfather. “Jessup, are you ready to read the scripture?”

“I am.” Mr. Waverly assured her.

“Once Jessup reads the scripture we’re going to send our items into the ocean in remembrance of a sweet spirit who left this world too soon.”

Brooklyn and I separated ourselves from one another. She selected flower petals. I picked up a piece of the rice paper that had been cut into small squares. On it, I wrote:

Mrs. Waverly,

I hate that we never got a chance to meet one another. I feel like you were probably cool as hell. I don’t usually do corny shit like this, but I have to tell somebody. Right now, you’re the only one I can trust with this.

I think I love your daughter.

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