Hide & Seek, a 32 year olds game


Brooklyn hugged her knees close to her chest as she watched the shadows through the crack at the bottom of the door of quiet footsteps approaching the closet she was sitting in.

She felt a pang of anxiety as if her stomach was a dishrag someone was ringing out, but shook her head in the dark to calm down.

It’s only hide and seek Brooklyn. It’s just hide and seek. You’re playing a game.

The shadowy footsteps started to shrink disappearing out the door, and she knew she wasn’t found.

Knowing she had time to spear she quickly repositioned herself to a more comfortable position. They had tried to find her in that same room 4 previous times, never checking the closet, so she assumed she would be there for a while.

She stretched out her feet to rest on a shoebox like an ottoman and leaned against the wall. Closing her eyes her mind scattered to fill the emptiness with thoughts about cookies, cellphones clocks and crawfish. Anything that started with a “c” made her happy, which is why she chose to hide in the closet in the first place.

She hated things that started with the letter “d”. Actually, she didn’t hate them as much as she feared them. Things like dollhouses, dentists, drills, dinosaurs, but most of all, Dr. Clemens. She was embarrassed when she saw Dr. Clemens, a feeling she didn’t care much for.

“You need to stop running away from everything,” he would tell her in a sedated voice, placing his hairy-knuckled hand on her knee as she sat in his office.

But he had no idea how hard it was.

“I can’t help it! It’s not my fault! Nothing helps!” She wanted to scream at his face, but she never did because then he would write the outburst down on his pad of paper and tell her parents.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a burst of light to reveal three concerned faces looking down at the bride.

“Finally!” the priest said flustered and annoyed, dabbing his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief.

“Have you been here the whole damn time?!”

Brooklyn ignored the priest and ashamedly gazed up at her parents standing next to him.

Shades of disappointment, disapproval, and discouragement danced across their faces like a game of Pictionary. No “c” words to be found. No compassion towards their daughter, no compassion towards the bride.

“I thought she was ready for this,” her mother sighed turning towards Brooklyn’s father Alan, exasperating slapping her hands on her thighs as if it was his fault.

Alan just looked down at the bride, when sadness started to appear. A look of defeat.

She had only seen her father look that way once before and it was at a funeral. His brother had died three years ago, and even though Brooklyn should of cared, she didn’t. She cared that it wasn’t raining that day and she wanted it to. She cared that she couldn’t find a black dress in her closet except for one that had stupid designs. She cared that Mrs. Peggs wore a hat too big for her head the entire service. But most of all she cared that her father didn’t smile back when Brooklyn gave him a look of hope across the coffin. He remained to look defeated.

“I am ready,” protested Brooklyn in an almost inaudible whisper as she started to play with an embroidered flower on her dress. “I just needed to check something in the closet. That’s all.”

Her mother lend a wiry hand to Brooklyn who stood up and brushed off her white gown.

If only this were a game of hide and seek, she thought.

“Honey, we have been looking for you for over a half an hour. Your guests have been waiting!” The priests tone was hostile and concerned, obviously not understanding the situation. Brooklyn’s situation. Who made a mental note of hating the priest.

“We found her!” he yelled over his shoulder into the church tucking his sweaty handkerchief away in his suit.

He stared at Brooklyn for a few seconds, obviously assessing her sanity, then haughtily walked out of the room.

Brooklyn watched the stout man prance out, feeling her parents eyes on her. She refused to look at them.

“Sweety,” her mother said taking Brooklyn’s face in her hands, “I love you.”

Brooklyn thought of all the times her mother had told her that. When she was first born, when she fell off her bike, when she would end a phone call with her, when her parents first enrolled her in therapy, when her brother died, family dinners, movie nights, and now, as Brooklyn was getting married.

“Now please, walk down the aisle.”

After Brooklyn’s face was blank for a few seconds her mother’s expression turned similar to her fathers, and dropped her hands from her daughters face.

With a sudden rush of anger but managing to control herself the bride calmly walked around her parents out of the room.

A surprised flower girl noticed Brooklyn walking towards the entrance and quickly handed her the bouquet and mouthed to her mother in the audience, “I found her!”

Taking a deep breath Brooklyn thought of “c” words like cantaloupe, and took her first step onto the red aisle as Here Comes the Bride boomed through the church.