Breaking Brooklyn (4 page)

When Jack opted to stay the
weekends in Tampa instead of coming home to me, I no longer wanted
to be pregnant.

Facebook Message from Tyler Ward
6/11/2014 at 8:30 am:

What did you do?

Facebook Message from Brooklyn
Page Napier 6/11/2014 at 8:31 am:

I had an abortion.

Facebook Message from Tyler Ward
6/11/2014 at 8:32 am:

OMG, I'm speechless.

Facebook Message from Brooklyn
Page Napier 6/11/2014 at 8:36 am:

I haven't told anyone about this,
not even Jack, especially Jack! So, please keep this
confidential.

Facebook Message from Tyler Ward
6/11/2014 at 8:37 am:

Of course, I would never tell a
soul.

Facebook Message from Brooklyn
Page Napier 6/11/2014 at 8:45 am:

I know this is a sin and I wish I
had never gone through with it. I felt that I had no other
choice.

I was so ashamed at what I did
that I thought about killing myself. I begged my doctor to put me
on anti-depressants, which helped mask my pain for a
while.

It was around that time that I
started to lose my faith in God. How could God love me after
destroying the life of an unborn child? Every time I saw a pro-life
bumper sticker I felt swallowed by guilt. My self-loathing was at
an all-time high. I couldn’t stomach the thought of going to
church. It would only remind me of what I had done.

Here it is 10 years later and I
still can't escape the guilt. If Jack ever found out I don't know
what he would do. I'm afraid he might hurt me.

Facebook Message from Tyler Ward
6/11/2014 at 8:47 am:

What? Why would he hurt
you?

Facebook Message from Brooklyn
Page Napier 6/11/2014 at 8:53 am:

Well, first of all, Jack has a
horrible temper. I have seen him snap several times. I'm afraid if
I tell him he will go crazy. When I was in college I had a roommate
who thought she was pregnant. When I mentioned to Jack that she was
considering having an abortion he went off on a tirade. Ranting and
raving about how he would never allow anyone he was with to have an
abortion. How his mother wanted to abort him and how his
grandmother stopped her. How lucky he was to be alive.

There was something about the way
he said this that was so intense. I could see the seriousness in
his eyes. It was bit unsettling. So, you can see I could never tell
him about this.

CHAPTER THREE

“Art enables us to find ourselves
and lose ourselves at the same time.”
~ Thomas Merton

Jack Napier- Day 6

I have been in the hospital six days now. I'm
not sure exactly why I'm here. Every time I ask about my family,
Harleen avoids the question.

I fear something has happened to them and
Harleen is afraid to tell me. Today, she asked me to journal about
the day before I blacked out.

I remember sitting on the couch watching TV.
Brooke and I had gotten into an argument earlier about one of her
old “guy friends” who always liked all her pictures on Facebook.
I'm not the jealous type, but this guy had a lot of balls. I told
her I wanted to confront him. She insisted that I leave it
alone.

"Why do you care?" I questioned.

"He's just a friend, now leave it
alone!"

"It's disrespectful, Brooke!"

"You don't control me, Jack! And why are you
going through my Facebook page? It’s none of your
business!"

"When you post pictures of our kids on
Facebook it's my business. Do you understand?!"

Brooke glared at me with clenched teeth.
Without saying a word she gathered up the kids and left the
house.

Something didn’t feel right about this guy. I
pulled up his Facebook page. His profile picture was a photo of him
and his three girls. He was a nice looking guy with sandy blond
hair, chocolate brown eyes, with a lumberjack’s scruff. He was in
good shape, unlike me. After Brooke and I got married I put on a
few pounds, but I held it well and she never complained.

In his profile it said that he graduated from
Indiana University, but I didn't remember him. There was no
information about his age or what year he graduated. I just assumed
that Brooke knew him from college before she and I reconnected in
Finland. However, something about him looked familiar. It was
driving me crazy.

I read through his profile a little more.
Tyler was the youth minister for a local non-denominational
Christian church. His relationship status was "Married to Kimberly
Richardson Ward". I don't know why, but it was comforting to know
that he was married.

Looking through his pictures, he appeared to
be a very happily married man. His daughters were beautiful like
their mother, and he had photos from all over the world from his
mission trips. It was hard not to secretly like the guy, so I let
it go for the time being.

My birthday was that weekend. I had planned on
spending it with my boys, until I got a call from Brooke's mother
informing me that my wife and kids were going to be staying with
them for a few weeks. She explained that Brooke needed time to
“figure things out”.

Figure things out? What the hell did that
mean? So, I spent my 37th birthday alone, drunk, and I guess
blacked out. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in
the hospital.

The only thing that's keeping me calm right
now is my journaling. Remembering my childhood is both arduous and
nostalgic at the same time. My memories are often blurred. I find
myself filling in the gaps with versions that are appealing to me.
It’s like I have been given a chance to relive my life.

When I was a kid, art was my outlet. Along
with my comic books and writing, it was my escape, my safe place.
When life got hard I would immerse myself in my creative world,
drawing pictures of my favorite comic book characters. I got so
good my friends would beg me to draw different superheroes for
them.

I can recall one day in elementary school my
teacher telling the class there would be a Thanksgiving art
contest. Everyone was going to draw a turkey and color it in. The
student who received the most votes from the panel of teachers
judging the contest would win a prize. Of course, they didn’t
announce what the prize would be, but we were all excited
anyway.

My turkey was very unique compared to the
others that hung next to it on the wall. After all, in my short yet
dysfunctional life, I had lots of time to discover my creative
side.

The turkey itself was well done. I had
developed a special technique for coloring it in. I drew very heavy
with each crayon I used. The wax built up thick, creating a 3D
effect. It even broke off in chunks, adding to the realism of the
feathers. I loved it!

After we handed in our drawings the panel of
teachers studied the collection of art that covered the hallway.
Keeping up the suspense, they sent us home before choosing the
winner. It was killing me! I barely slept that night.

The next morning, the boring announcements
scratched across the classroom speaker. All of my classmates were
excited, making predictions about who they thought the winner might
be. We even had to sit through the lunch menu before they would
announce the winner. After the word of the day, they finally got to
the art contest.

“
Now, for the announcement you all
have been waiting for, we have the name of the winner of the
Thanksgiving art contest. I would first like to say that all of you
did a great job on your drawings. They were all so wonderful. It
was a hard choice to make. But the judges finally did choose a
winner. And that winner is...” The kids started banging their hands
against their desks to mimic the sound of a drumroll, “... Jack
O’Malley!”

Me! I won the contest for the best drawing!
All of my friends patted me on the back as I was instructed to pick
up my prize at the office after school. I was a celebrity for
exactly one whole day. Kids were congratulating me as I walked down
the hall and at recess.

What could the prize possibly be, a pair of
skates, a baseball glove, what? When I got to the principal’s
office I was handed a giant cage with a live turkey
inside.

“
GOBBLE! GOBBLE!
GOBBLE!”

The principal walked up to me with a huge
smile on his face and said, “Jack! This is your prize. Take it home
with you! It’s yours!”

“
GOBBLE! GOBBLE!
GOBBLE!”

I could barely hear him over the turkey. The
cage looked like a space ship that was piloted by a fat, feathery
alien with a bright red gobbler dangling from his chin. I am sure
my jaw hung open. Why couldn’t I have won something normal, like
movie tickets or a gift certificate?

Trying to walk with the cage was impossible.
Principal Hilgenberg tried to jump in and help when he realized I
was falling. Turkey, cage, and disappointment all fell on top of
me.

Struggling and with no help from my friends I
managed to carry the turkey, clucking and gobbling, all the way
home. The cage hit my ankles every step of the way. By the time I
got to our townhome, my arms hurt like I’d been doing push-ups all
day.

Wrestling the kitchen door open, I brought the
turkey inside. I set the cage down in the middle of the kitchen. I
took a few breaths, then I studied the beast in front of me. His
brown and white feathers were majestic like body armor. On his neck
were a trail red moles that led to two large red ones that
resembled a ..... set of very unhealthy testicals.

Figuring there was only one place for such a
pet, I opened the basement door and dragged the cage down the
stairs. Every step brought another scrape to my ankles, while the
gyrating motion made my new friend more anxious. Once I reached the
bottom step, I rested. Taking a moment to catch my breath, I
admired my new buddy. When I noticed the turkey looking at me, I
didn’t move a muscle in an effort to not scare him. His head cocked
to the side as his raven-like eyes connected with mine. This only
lasted a second. That’s when I decided that feeding my new friend
might be the nice thing to do.

Not knowing what turkeys eat, I went upstairs
and rummaged through the cupboards. Cornmeal should work, I
guessed. Taking it down stairs along with a bowl of water I made
the peace offering.

My plan was to watch my friend all afternoon,
just to figure out what a turkey does. What I quickly discovered is
that turkeys don’t do that much. Really, what can you do with a
turkey in a cage? Bored, I headed upstairs to my room.

Hours later, my grandfather came home. Who
knows when my mom finally dragged her ass in? I fell asleep
thinking everything was okay. That is, until six o’clock in the
morning, when it sounded like a fire alarm went off. A loud cackle
rang throughout the house. GOBBB-GBOB-GOBBLE! Then that noise was
followed by another loud cackle, GOBBB-GBOB-GOBBLE!

Popping out of bed, I ran down the stairs,
meeting my grandfather in the kitchen. Grandpa Bob glared at me
with bloodshot eyes that were half-open. Standing in white boxers
and a dull gray tank top, he flailed his arms and yelled cuss
words. In came my mother. She was not happy either. Then we heard
the sound again.

“
GOBBB-GBOB-GOBBLE!!”

“
GOBBB-GBOB-GOBBLE!!”

”
I know it’s close and when I find
it I going to wring its neck!” Grandpa shouted.

When I saw him looking toward the basement
door I panicked, feeling my eyes pop right out of my head. I did
the only thing I could think of… I stepped in front of the door,
but my grandfather pushed me aside. Flinging it open, he started
down the steps.

That’s when the loudest cackling sound nearly
ruptured my eardrums GOBB – GOBB-GOBBLE! Grandpa Bob’s cussing
could be heard in the next county.

“
What in the hell? Where in
the…what in God’s name…?”

My mother joined in his tirade as they tried
to figure out why there was a turkey in their basement. Suddenly,
my new friend was quiet. It was like someone hit the snooze button
on the turkey alarm clock.