They must’ve repainted the playground within the last year; I don’t remember the park looking like this when I was last here with Mollie. I only remember that last day because it was the day my mom needed to go to court to finalize paperwork for the divorce with our dad. Mollie feels like a completely different kid since then, and I can only hope that it’s not for the worst.
Milo and Mollie run towards the playground, excited to play for the afternoon. Sometimes I wish I could have days like this again.
“You’re okay, Pep?” I hear Milo ask me. I turned my head and quickly nodded, sort of like a reflex.
“Yeah,” I finally said, looking out at the kids. “Sometimes I wish I can go back to being a kid again. No cares in the world besides playing with your friends.”
“Yeah, but even as kids we were worrying about kid things,” Milo began to say. “At least we manage our problems better.”
“Do we really?” I joked around, smiling at Milo. He immediately doesn’t answer, which was no surprise to me. Some things about a person will never change, even with time passed. I sighed, changing the subject. “So, Nicki texted me last night about coming to Brooklyn for a visit sometime next week.”
“Yeah, Danny texted me too,” Milo looked at me, smirking. “Do we tell them that we’re on good terms now?”
“Is that what you think they’re coming down here for?” I asked, slightly laughing at Milo’s ridiculous, yet somewhat realistic assumption.
“How many times has Nicki only texted you about making plans? Because Danny does that shit to me,” Milo emphasized. I couldn’t help but laugh; they both were pretty bad at keeping things secret.
“Never in a million years did I think Milo Kamalani’s bestie would be Danny Campbell,” I teased. Milo did not want anything to do with Danny when Nicki and I introduced him to the friend group. For the first year of Nicki and Danny dating, Milo purposely avoided him but in the long run became friends; nearly best friends.
Milo laughed out loud. “I’ve grown and became more wiser.” I rolled my eyes, predicting how Milo was going to respond. I looked back out to the kids, noticing Mollie showing Milo a ballet move near the monkey bars. “Do you train Mollie in dance?”
I turned my head. “Train?”
“Are you her dance teacher now that you’re back in New York?” he asked.
“Mollie dances at an academy,” I began to explain. “I also dance at that academy, the adult division though.”
“That’s cute; two sisters dancing at the same academy,” Milo commented. I looked over t him and rolled my eyes as he laughed. “But seriously, why not try to become an instructor at the academy?”
I shrugged my shoulders before I answered. “I don’t want to work under someone calling all the shots.”
“But you’d be teaching dance,” Milo debated.
“Yeah, teaching dances that are approved from the head choreographer,” I said, leaning back on the bench. When I was in North Carolina, I had gotten the rude awakening from my own instructor, Clementine, about the reality of most adult dancers still in the industry. She mentioned that in this world, you’re either a person doing the dancing, or teaching the dancing; and teaching only meant obeying the creative vision that the owner of the academy had. I wanted more for myself, especially after this past year when all I was doing was wanting more for another person. “I want to teach my own choreo to my own dancers.”
“Is that why you’re studying business in grad school?” Milo questioned. I was surprised that he was able to out two-and-two together. I simply nodded my head as my response. I guess the revelation was bigger for Milo than I expected as he scoffed in his seat.
“I didn’t expect that from you,” he commented.
“Expect what?” I asked, seeming a bit harsh in the way I asked.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Milo started to defend. “I mean that it was something you never brought up before.” I waved my head, trying to ease some of the tension he was feeling.
“That’s because it was something I didn’t realize I wanted until I did.” Before I could get any further in the conversation, I hear Mollie scream at the playground, immediately grabbing Milo and I’s attention.
“Mollie?” I quickly got up and ran towards the playground. Milo followed right behind me. Mollie was laying near the swings, holding her left knee toward her torso. Milo was sitting next to her extremely anxious.
“I was swinging her and she wanted me to push her harder and when I did push her harder, I- i-”
“Milo, it’s okay,” I began telling the young boy, smiling at him to reassure him. “It’s not your fault.” He doesn’t say anything back, he just looks at Mollie and her massive bruise on her knee.
“Let’s take her back to my place to bandage it up,” Milo suggested. I nodded my head, looking back to Mollie. “Are you able to stand on your leg?” I try to get Mollie up by her arms, but she immediately winces in pain.
“Fuck,” she slips out.
“Mollie,” I scolded, slightly embarrassed for her language. Milo doesn’t seem phased by it. He kneels down next to Mollie, looking at her.
“I can carry you back to the house if you can’t stand on your leg,” he offered, looking at me for confirmation.
“Please,” Mollie cried out, holding out her arms for help. She puts her arms around his neck as Milo politely picked her up.
“She’s not too heavy or anything for you, right?” I asked, worried about Milo’s back giving out. Milo adjusts until Mollie is sitting comfortably in his arms.
“She’s fine, Pep,” he answered, beginning to walk towards the exit of the park. Before I was able to leave the swing area, I noticed Milo’s son was not following him. I turned around and see him standing near the swing Mollie was on.
“Milo?”
“I didn’t mean to push her so hard on the swing,” he pleaded, visibly upset.
“Hey,” I said as I walked to him, kneeling on the ground to get on his level. “Mollie is going to be fine. She just got bruised up on her leg, but she will be okay.”
“What if she hates me now? What if he doesn’t want to be my best friend anymore?”
“She doesn’t hate you,” I reassured him. “And she definitely doesn’t want to stop being your best friend.” Milo slightly smiled, feeling some sort of relief. “Come on; let’s go meet up with your dad and Mollie.” I get up and reached out for Milo’s hand. He placed his small hand in mine as we started to walk out of the swing area together, looking down at Milo wipe the last of his tears off of his cheek.
…
By the time we got back to Milo’s apartment and cleaned Mollie’s bruise, both kids were exhausted. Milo and Mollie fell asleep in his room while watching a movie in a pile of throw blankets and pillows making a tent. Milo closed his son’s bedroom door, walking back to the kitchen area where I was sitting.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the park with Mollie,” he began to apologize, sitting down in the seat across from me at the table. “I’ll talk to Milo about it tomorrow–“
“It’s okay; really,” I sternly said. “They’re kids–“
“Yeah, but Milo shouldn’t have been swinging her so hard. She’s a girl–“
“Kids don’t see the difference,” I emphasized. “Besides, Mollie is a Castro girl; we were born with tough skin.” Milo shook his head, smiling at my response.
“I just want him to know that he has to be more gentle when playing with girls,” he explained, sighing afterwards. “Milo had a rough school year. It was the first year that him and Mollie weren’t in the same class, and the bullying got out of control. He pushed one of the bullies; a girl. He was suspended for a week and a half despite the fact this girl had been bullying him all year.”
“That’s bullshit,” I said, shaking my head. It made sense why he blamed himself for Mollie’s accident. “And the girl didn’t get in trouble?”
“A warning,” Milo answered. “But because Milo physically hit the girl, he got in trouble. He was really shaken up about it, and thankfully we were able to take him out of that class toward the end of the school year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that happened,” I sympathized. “He was really upset about Mollie though. He was afraid she wouldn’t be friends with him anymore and nearly broke my heart hearing that.” Milo doesn’t respond, but the lack of one makes me think that possibly Milo lost a lot of his friends in that class, or what he thought were his friends. “But I told him that Mollie wouldn’t end their friendship over something like this.”
“You’re really good with him, y’know that?” Milo randomly commented. It took me off-guard.
“Not my first rodeo handling kids.”
“It took Milo months to get comfortable with Marielle,” he confessed. I was surprised on how honest he was being. “That’s partially my fault though.”
“Your fault?”
“I feel like I’ve introduced Milo to a lot of women in his life,” Milo began to explain. He sighed, playing with his glass on the table. “It’s a lot for a kid, y’know?”
“I mean,” I began to say, recalling my own memories growing up and watching my mom bring home a new guy every couple of months. In some sense, there was this relief I felt whenever my mom broke up with them; it was a brief moment where she felt like my mom, and not someone in her early 20’s with two kids, recently divorced from their dad. I looked directly at Milo. “Yeah, it can be.”
“But he doesn’t seem to be nervous around you. Maybe he remembers who you are,” Milo suggested. Milo’s son was 9 years old, and in those 9 years I’ve spent a lot of time with both Milo and his son. I couldn’t imagine Milo not remembering who I was; then again, who knows what was said or what was done in the year that we stopped talking. I don’t answer him back; I simply smile and let out a deep breath.
“Being in that park earlier brought back so many memories,” I said as I smiled tightly. “Like what do you mean I’m not 8 years old swinging on the tire swing?”
Milo cocked his head back, laughing out loud. “The tire swing has been gone for years.”
“Still,” I responded. “That tire swing was one of the best things about the park, besides the sprinklers during the summer.”
“Remember that time you threw the biggest water balloon over my head, and my mom was pissed because I had gotten my hair professionally done for our summer vacation that year?”
“Oh my god, yes!” I reacted. I remember kid Milo panicking, chasing me around the park because he was so upset at me. When did life get so serious?
“I’m glad the park is still here, even though so much of it has changed,” Milo reflected. I nodded my head, agreeing with him.
“Besides the memories.” Milo looks at me with a tight smile. I didn’t realize just how much of my memories had Milo in them. I knew that we’ve known each other for 20 years now, but in the year I was away, I never truly thought about my memories here in New York. Being back after so long has open the floodgates of memories, and it’s surprising how many involve Milo. I sighed, stretching in my seat. “I should get going though before it gets too late–“
“You’re more than welcome to crash here for the night,” Milo suggested. I looked at him, not knowing how to respond to that. “I can sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”
“You don’t need to do all of that,” I said, shaking my head. “I can take the sofa.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Milo–“
“Pep.” Milo said my name in a way a father would call his kid. “You’re taking the bed.”
“Okay, dad,” I teased, lightening the mood a bit. His tough, dad demeanor instantly vanished and laughed at my joke.
“I’ll get you a change of clothes,” Milo said as he got up from his seat, walking towards his bedroom. Never in a million years did I think I’d be sleeping over my best friend’s place like we’re kids again.
Letters From Liz. 