Broken and Beautiful

by Ryan, Kendall

  “Yup.”

  “They said the same sh—” Dad shot a quick glance over his shoulder. “Mess to me, knowing damn well they were never gonna make my Black ass an equity partner.”

  “Reggie!” Mom called again.

  Dad rolled his eyes. "They only made me a salaried partner when I threatened to walk and take my clients with me. They were using me, and I used them right back. The bench was always the end game. I still can't believe Smith is a partner."

  “I didn’t know you were there at the same time.”

  "I only knew him for a few months. He was an arrogant little prick then, too. He was rude to me the first time we met, then once he found out who I was, he spent the rest of my time at HC kissing my ass."

  Mom stormed into the sitting room, muttering under her breath, snatched CJ from my father's hands, and walked back into the kitchen without looking at us. Dad's eyes widened, and his lips pursed in a hilarious I’m in trouble expression that made me chuckle.

  "So, you coming to poker night this week?" Dad and his buddies had a semi-regular Friday night poker game that I'd been attending since I was eighteen. My brother RJ used to come, but the social aspect of poker night didn't really appeal to him. He also used logic and reasoning to play and very seldom lost, which kinda sucked the fun out of playing with him.

  He preferred blackjack because he was good at counting cards, and that was fun for a while until Dad caught us on a family trip in Vegas. He explained to us that counting cards was illegal, which put an end to our card sharking careers. RJ had a solid sense of right and wrong. There was no middle for him. I actually loved that about him and wish I could be more like him. However, that was not something I appreciated when I was eighteen and stuck in a hotel room on punishment and spending the night losing at blackjack for hours to my fourteen-year-old brother.

  "No, I'm too tired to even think about playing poker, and I'm gonna need all my money to pay for nannies and daycares."

  “Son, you gotta find a way through this. What is your goal here?”

  "My goal?" I knew he was gearing up for one of his lectures, and usually, I hung on his every word, but my brain couldn't absorb one more piece of information.

  "You have to have a goal, kid. What are you reaching for? Where are you going? Right now, you're just existing. Barely making it through the day so you can get up the next day and do it all over again. That's a life that's going nowhere, and one day, soon by the looks of things, you're gonna hit a wall."

  “I guess my goal is to become a judge.” I shrugged.

  “That’s it. To become a judge.”

  I nodded.

  “Why do you want to become a judge, Cole?”

  The first answer that came to mind was that I wanted to be a judge because he was a judge, but I knew that wasn't the answer he wanted. The truth was I idolized my dad. He always seemed to know the right thing to do. He always had the answers. He was strong and brave. I knew that if I followed in his footsteps, I could be those things, too. Even when I struggled, I knew everything would work out because I had someone leading the way for me, showing me the path. Several moments went by, and I still hadn't answered him.

  “Did I ever tell you why I wanted to become a judge?”

  I shook my head.

  "When I was thirteen, I got caught shoplifting from a department store."

  I raised my eyebrows in shock. I’d never seen my dad so much as eat grapes in the grocery store before paying for them.

  "Yup. One of my cousins put me up to it. I'd never stolen anything in my life. I spent most of my time in the library or reading comic books—I hadn't even kissed a girl—but they pressured me to do it, so I took a deck of cards, put it in my pocket, and walked out of the store."

  He kneaded his hands together and leaned forward, not meeting my eye. Dad wore an expression that resembled shame over something that happened over forty years ago.

  "Now, if I were white, they probably would've taken the merchandise, banned me from the store, and called my parents, but instead they called the police. I'd never been so scared in my life. I think I cried the whole time. My parents came to pick me up from the police station. My mother had this look of sadness that I'll never forget. My father was disappointed, and that felt worse than being arrested.

  "A few weeks later, I had to go to court and on the bench was a Black man, The Honorable Harris Greene. I knew Black judges existed, but I'd never seen one, not in person, hell, not even on the little bit of TV your grandmother would let me watch. He asked if I did what I was being accused of, and I told the truth. He asked me why I did it, and I told the truth. He looked at my criminal record. I didn't have one. He looked at my school record and saw that I got good grades. He spoke to my parents, and he decided to give me a second chance. He had the option to send me to a juvenile detention center for six months, but instead, he gave me probation. I had to write a letter of apology to the department store owner, and every day after school, I would come work for him in the courthouse for two hours."

  I was in shock. Dad and I were close, but he never told me this.

  "That was a turning point for me. When that man looked at me, he didn't see a punk or a thug embarking on a life of crime. He saw a good kid who made a mistake and deserved a break. I could've been his son or his nephew. I think about how different my life could've been if my case came across another judge's docket. I didn't decide to become a lawyer that day. I decided to become a judge. I wanted people to look at me, see themselves, and know they were gonna get a fair shot or see what's possible for themselves.

  "That's why I became a public defender. I wanted to help people who might not get a fair shot in the legal system, like you and Crystal. Judge Greene showed me what was possible by merely existing.

  “So, son, that’s why I became a judge. That’s my story." He leaned forward and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "What's your story? If you're gonna tell me that you're following in my footsteps because you want to make me proud, you don't have to. I'm already proud of you. And if you think you owe it to your mother and me, you don't. The only thing your mother and I ever wanted for you kids was to have every opportunity for happiness. If you're happy, that's all I can ask for. So…"

  "I…" I took a deep breath and blew it out. "I wanted to become a lawyer because I wanted to help people." That was the truth. I remember as a kid having a sense of calm whenever Crystal got in trouble, and we went to see Dad. I wanted my clients to see me and know everything was going to be okay.

  “And where does CJ fit into this?”

  “He wasn’t a part of the plan—”

  “But he is now. And what about you, Cole? Are you taking time for yourself?”

  “Dad, what is time? I don’t have any time.” I was getting frustrated.

  "Look, I'm not telling you to go out and get married, but I'll tell you nothing I've accomplished in my law career would've meant a damn thing to me if I didn't have your mother and you kids."

  I met his eye and smiled.

  "You and CJ share a bond that no one else will be able to touch, and a loss that no one else will understand. You need each other. The plan has changed, and you need to act accordingly."

  "So, what do I do?"

  “I can’t tell you that, kid.”

  10

  lisa

  “Hey, neighbor,” Cole’s voice called over my shoulder as I was leaving my house. I looked at my watch. It was ten fifteen in the morning.

  "Why aren't you at work?" I spun around to see CJ sitting next to him on the stoop, working on a red ice pop. He grinned at me with a nearly toothless smile. The bottom half of his face was covered with red drool making him look like a freshly fed, tiny vampire. "Isn't it a little early for that?" I pointed to CJ's ice pop.

  "Well, good morning to you too." He bent down, scooping up CJ before descending the stairs to meet me at the sidewalk. "I would be at work today, but yesterday, Jaws here got booted from daycare for biting another kid."


  I gasped and leaned close to CJ. “You did?”

  He responded by smiling and almost leaping out of Cole’s arms and into mine.

  “Hey, no, buddy, don’t— Sorry, he’s covered in popsicle juice.”

  I clutched CJ and waved him away. "It's fine. I don't mind. Do I, cutie?" I blew a raspberry into his neck, and he squealed. I couldn't believe how much I'd missed the little nugget. He smelled like soap and fresh strawberries.

  “So what are you gonna do? About the daycare?”

  “I don’t know. Your friend Theresa can only babysit two days a week while I’m at work and my mom can only help me at night until the end of this week, so I’m kind of screwed until I can find another daycare that I can afford.”

  My stomach lurched at his mention of Teresa and the thought of her spending two days a week with CJ, but also—and I hated to admit it—Cole.

  “Is he cute?” Her voice echoed in my head, and I pushed it away. I had to pull myself together.

  “Hey, are you avoiding me?”

  “What? No.” I had definitely been avoiding him.

  “I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks—I still have your AirPods, by the way—and when we finally see each other, the first thing you say is, ‘Why aren’t you at work?’”

  “Cole, it’s complicated.”

  “So, make it uncomplicated.”

  "Fine. I just got out of a marriage that I thought was going to last forever. It turned out we both weren't the people we thought we were. Then I move here for a fresh start. I find a great place to live. I find a job and make friends. Then I meet you and CJ, and things get…confusing."

  “Is it because of the night in the kitchen?”

  My face flushed hot, remembering the feeling of the cool marble countertop under my lower back as Cole tasted and teased me until I had the biggest orgasm of my life…right before I gave him a bloody nose.

  “That didn’t help, but it wasn’t just that. I like hanging out with you…and CJ. I think I might like it too much.”

  “Well, now that does sound awful. I completely understand.” He looked down at me, one corner of his lips curling into a smile.

  I parted my lips to respond, and CJ shoved his ice pop into my mouth. I gagged for a second before I pulled his arm away.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll take him.”

  I coughed and swallowed. "I'm fine." I chuckled. "I just got a little caught off guard, and I can't have sugar."

  "Really? Well, these are sugar-free. Someone sent Kimberly's boss a case of these. They're sugar-free, soy-free, pesticide-free, gluten-free, flavor-free, fun-free, devoid of hopes and dreams…"

  "Actually…" I giggled at his description and licked my lips: Strawberry flavored. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Cole. "They're pretty good."

  "I don't know what your plans for the day are, but could CJ and I invite you over for a sugar-free ice pop? We also have cherry, grape, orange…unless you're worried about having too much fun, which I agree is a valid concern," he added with sarcasm.

  I snorted a laugh, and CJ giggled along.

  “Well, I would like to get my AirPods back…”

  "No pressure, neighbor. I could always put them in your mailbox." He smirked, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

  "What do you think, CJ? Should I come over for an ice pop?" I asked. He answered by once again trying to feed me.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s a yes.” Cole laughed. “He doesn’t share his ice pops with me.”

  “Okay.” I laughed. “One ice pop. Are there any strawberry ones left?”

  “So many!” he called out as I followed him up the stairs carrying CJ.

  * * *

  I hung out with Cole and CJ for the rest of the morning and the afternoon. We ordered lunch in and put Cole’s burrito-ordering skills to the test. Our trio became a duo when the littlest member went down for a nap around one.

  Cole and I settled on the couch in the living room, not close, but close enough to watch CJ sleep on the baby monitor.

  "So, you don't eat carbs or sugar?"

  “Nope. Or dairy.”

  “By choice?”

  “Yes and no, but mostly no.”

  “Are you diabetic? Shit. I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s none of my business.”

  “Cole, it’s fine,” I chuckled. “You remember our deal. I knee you in the face, you get to ask me questions.”

  He smiled and absentmindedly stroked the bridge of his nose with his pointer and middle fingers.

  "I'm not diabetic, but I have a medical condition that throws my hormones out of whack and affects my insulin levels. It's manageable, but I have to watch what I eat."

  “Got it. Can I ask you another question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What did I say to you the first night we met?”

  I felt my face fall, and Cole's expression changed. Over two months had passed since that night, and it felt like Cole and I were completely different people. His words still stung, not because they were his words, but because deep down inside, it was how I felt about myself. For years I'd felt like I was being punished—for what, I didn't know. That maybe the universe was telling me that I didn't deserve to be a mother. Therapy helped me work through those feelings. Those words didn't feel like they belonged to him anymore, and if I told him what he said, then I’d have to explain why they were so hurtful, and I wasn't ready for that conversation.

  “I thought we agreed to let it go.”

  "What if I accidentally repeated it?"

  "You wouldn't," I said in a clipped voice.

  “It was that bad, huh?”

  I didn't answer him. Instead, I put my hand over his and gave him a small smile.

  "Do you remember what happened the last time you did that?" He raised an eyebrow, and one corner of his mouth curled into a mischievous smile. I withdrew my hand.

  "So, what are you going to do about a daycare?" I said to break the tension and also to keep myself from crawling across the couch towards him like Freida Pinto in a Bruno Mars video.

  “I don’t know.” Cole heaved a deep sigh. “I guess the best thing to do is to check out the list of daycares near my job.”

  “Okay.” I clapped my hands. “Let’s do it.”

  Cole raised his eyebrows.

  “The list, goofball.” I chuckled. “Let’s go through the list of daycares.”

  “Are you sure I’m not keeping you from anything more important?”

  "I offered, didn't I? I have dinner with friends later, but I'm all yours until then."

  He raised his eyebrows again.

  “I’m leaving.” I chuckled and pushed myself off of the couch. Cole captured my wrist and tugged me back down. It didn’t take a lot of force because I didn’t really want to leave.

  “I’m kidding. Let me grab my computer.”

  * * *

  It took us two hours to figure out that none of the daycares near Cole's job would be a good fit. They were either way too expensive, the hours didn't fit, or they didn't have any openings.

  "What about a full-time nanny?"

  "A stranger living in my house? No. And…" He began typing on his laptop before turning it to face me. "I can't afford a full-time nanny." He tilted the screen toward me. Cole had Googled the average salary for a nanny living in Manhattan.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered to myself as I scanned the screen: salary, health benefits, and vacation time… “I am in the wrong line of work.” I looked up to find Cole staring at me. “What?” I asked. He raised his eyebrows in question. “No, I was joking.”

  His face remained impassive.

  “I already have a job.” That I hated. “And besides”—I pointed to the screen—“you couldn’t afford me.” I smiled and pushed myself off of the couch. “I have to start getting ready. Give CJ a kiss for me?”

  "Sure. Wait, hold on," Cole said before jogging into the kitchen while I slipped on my shoes. He came back to the door holding a sugar-free ice pop. "One fo
r the road."

  “Thanks.” I took the pop from his hand, brushing his fingertips and feeling a tiny jolt of electricity. I told myself it must have been static electricity from the living room rug, but I wasn’t sure. Did belly fluttering accompany static shock?

  I heard the door close softly behind me, and when I made it to the sidewalk, I looked up to see Cole standing in his living room window watching me. He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in a small wave. I smiled and returned the gesture feeling the belly fluttering intensify.

  * * *

  "Sasha, Sasha, Sasha. This is America. It is a free country, and you are entitled to your wrong opinion." Micaela, Sasha's girlfriend, was shouting to be heard over the lively argument that had erupted at our table.

  “I am not wrong. Michael Keaton was the best Batman. It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.”

  “Bullshit. Christian Bale did that. Okay? He. Did. That. Just because it was the first Batman movie you saw doesn’t make it the best one.”

  "Exactly, you're proving my point. Michael Keaton saved Gotham City without CGI. And he didn't have to do a stupid growly voice."

  “He had to do a voice. He's the most recognized man in the city. He's supposed to go walking around just chitchatting in his billionaire playboy voice dressed as Batman? Please. That's like Clark Kent with his glasses. Who the fuck does that man think he's fooling?"

  “By that logic,” Max, a friend of Micaela’s, chimed in. “Adam West would be the best Batman. He didn’t have shit in the sixties besides shark repellant!”

  The entire table erupted in laughter.

  “I don’t know,” Nisha, who worked with us at Mama’s, mused. “I thought George Clooney did a good job.” She shrugged before looking around the table with her lips tucked between her teeth to hold back laughter.

  The table was quiet for a second before erupting in a chorus of boos and flying napkins. Micaela yelled, “Bat nipples?!” and Sasha said, “Nisha, go sit in the corner and think about what you did.”