We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 18

"I only have questions," I laugh.

"Don't hate me, but," Brooks starts, opening the lid of the shoebox just enough that I still cannot see inside. "I've been collecting shit. At my mom's. Saving stuff."

"Saving stuff?" I ask. My hands, getting nervous, trace the cable knit lines on the blanket.

"Us stuff. You and me stuff." Brooks removes the lid and moves the box to the spot in front of the blanket.

The flickering glow of the fire dances on the top polaroid. The first of many photos. Everything in the box is orangey in this light. Eerie almost. Brooks picks up the top photo and, grinning, holds it out to me.

"Jesus Christ," I yelp.

I'm staring at a photo of the first day of sixth grade –staring at the oversized backpacks Trix and I are wearing –staring at Brooks and his mom next to us. Mini Brooks and his cheesy grin are staring up at me from the photo.

"Bad, I know." Brooks laughs next to me. He's already fishing another item from the box.

"Then there's this," he says, wincing.

I take the photo and laugh at out. Yes, I lol in real life.

Brooks, Nate, and Alex are maybe eight years old, all wearing pinnie jerseys. Nate is holding a soccer ball and Alex has an orange peel wedged in his mouth.

"These are amazing!" I laugh. I reach for the box, drawing it away from the fire and closer to me. I need to get a better look at the loot inside.

"How on EARTH do you have this?" I almost scream, giggling like a schoolgirl. Like the girl I am in the photo I'm holding.

"Your 9th grade photo? Why on EARTH wouldn't I have it?" Brooks laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"I'm scarred, like for life." I shake my head, staring at the braces and the terribly flat-ironed hair. I will never forgive myself for the homemade headband I decided to wear on picture-day.

"This one's my favorite," Brooks says, picking out another polaroid.

I lean over for it but he lifts it high above his head, out of my reach. I move into his lap and straddle him, lifting my arm for the picture. He laughs and tosses me off but drops the picture in my lap.

I flip it over and a butterfly swarms somewhere inside me. My stomach, maybe. Or maybe my heart.

The snapshot shows three girls, visibly plastered, laughing in the light of a bonfire. I'm wearing denim shorts and a scoop neck tank. My sunglasses still perched on my wavy hair even though it's nighttime. I would recognize outfit #18 anywhere.

This photo was taken the first day I saw Brooks. Well, re-saw him after 9 years.

"What? Not what you were expecting?" Brooks asks.

"I don't even remember taking it. Who had a camera that night?" I ask, smiling at the piece of paper.

"Better question is who could even operate a camera that night?" Brooks laughs.

"Seriously." I stare at me in the middle, at each one of my arms flung around Meg and Trix's shoulder. I feel Brooks watching me and I turn to look at him. "Why's it your favorite?"

"It's my favorite, because," Brooks pauses. He leans into me and tucks my loose hair behind my ear. He's soul-gazing again. "It's the day you became someone I know and not just someone I remembered."

His. Words. Though. He says these things to me and I swear he's not a real human. Yes, back to the demi-god theory.

I just look at him. He's golden in front of the fireplace. He's golden in front of me. What a fucking view.

I lean in and part his lips with mine. I drop the polaroid from my hand and run my fingers through his hair.

"Thank you," I whisper against him.

"For?"

"Being someone I know now," I answer.

Brooks smiles and shakes his head before looking back at the box. He's digging again and I can tell he's looking for something specific. It makes me wonder how well he knows the contents of this old shoebox. It makes me wonder how many times, if any, over the last six months he spent looking at them.

Finally, his hand withdraws from the box. A smile dances onto his lips when he looks at it. He turns to me and holds it up in the space between us.

"These kids aren't so bad to remember, though," Brooks says, his voice almost shaky.

Prom. As in THE prom. As in the moment I didn't know then was the beginning of the rest of my life.