Breaking Free

by Jennifer Slattery

  “Good morning. Did I wake you?”

  “Not at all. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to remind you about Jaya’s baby shower tomorrow. I took the liberty of buying a Little Treasures gift card. I put it on Visa. I’d like to collect everyone’s contributions today.”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.” Minus her empty wallet, although she could always write a check. “How much do you need?”

  “If everyone gives ten, we should be good.”

  “Sounds great, Stephanie. I’ll see you at service.”

  Alice glanced at the clock on the DVR. Should she wait? No. Her mom was an early riser. She’d probably been up for a couple hours already.

  She tapped her mom’s number.

  “Alice, good morning.”

  “Hi, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.” Moving to the kitchen, she cradled the receiver between her ear and shoulder to free her hands to cook breakfast.

  “Happy Mother’s Day to you, too, dear. What are your plans for the day?”

  “I doubt anything could top my morning.” She told her mother about the picture and frame. “The wood looks repurposed, like maybe he got it from an old fence or something.” She set the burners on medium and scrambled eggs with a whisk. The bacon sizzled and popped in a nearby pan.

  “That sounds lovely. I can’t wait to see it.” Her mom paused. “You’re coming for dinner tonight, right?”

  Bam—the million-dollar question. “The boys and I will be there, but I’m afraid Trent’s not feeling well.” It wasn’t technically a lie. “You know how hard Mother’s Day is for him.”

  “He’s still not talking to his dad? You know, you need to help him get over this. For your boys’ sake.”

  Alice sighed. “I’ve tried, Mom. He doesn’t want to hear it.” Besides, her father-in-law wasn’t exactly a great influence.

  Trent’s mother had committed suicide five years ago. Everyone said his father’s alcoholism drove her to it. Since then, Trent refused to speak to the man, which wasn’t altogether a bad thing, considering how tumultuous their relationship had been. Even so, the man was family, but Alice had given up trying to play peacemaker. All that ever got her was a headache and a hostile husband.

  “I understand. Maybe another night.”

  Awkward silence followed.

  “Mom?” She longed to talk to her about everything that was going on with Trent, but wasn’t sure how to begin.

  “Yes?”

  How would her mom respond if Alice told her of her suspicions? She wasn’t the most . . . understanding person. Which left Alice with absolutely nowhere to turn. An unemployed, uneducated housewife with a husband who was spending all their money on another woman.

  She cleared her throat. “Never mind. I better go. Got to get ready for church.”

  “OK, dear. Have a good day.”

  Alice bid her the same and ended the call, dropping the phone on the counter.

  How long could she keep playing this game?

  “Breakfast is ready,” she called out to her boys. “Might want to eat it before it gets cold.” She checked the clock once again.

  She’d give her oldest son 15 more minutes.

  Fifteen turned into 20. Twenty turned into 40. When she could delay the inevitable no longer, she straightened the storage jars on the counter, folded a hand towel, and then headed for the hall. In the living room, Danny sat on the couch playing a video game. She offered him a smile before continuing toward her oldest son’s bedroom.

  Pausing in front of Tim’s door, she inhaled and tucked her hair behind her ears. At 16, he had become just as explosive as his father. His reactions were so unpredictable they scared her. Swallowing hard against her nervous stomach, she pushed the door open and poked her head inside.

  He lay with his knees tucked up and the pillow shoved under a gaping mouth. A puddle of drool seeped into the green and blue striped pillowcase.

  She crossed the room and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Tim?” He didn’t move. She raised her voice a notch. “Tim, it’s time to get up.”

  Tim moaned and pulled the pillow over his head with two man-sized hands.

  “Honey, it’s getting late. We’ve got to get to church.”

  “Dad going?”

  “Of course he is.” Alice tossed a dirty towel into a nearby hamper.

  “Still lost in the dream, huh, Mom?”

  Happy Mother’s Day to me. “Aren’t you cheerful this morning?” She grabbed a fast-food cup off his dresser to throw it out. “There’s bacon on the table. Getting cold.”

  Tim ignored her.

  “Tim!”

  “Lay off already!” Throwing the covers aside, he jolted to a sitting position. A deep scowl shadowed his face as he waved her out of the room. “I’m up. I’m up.”

  Alice left and closed the door behind her. What happened to that sweet little boy that used to crawl into her lap and shower her with kisses?

  Shaking her head, she soft-stepped to her bedroom and paused with her hand on the knob. She eased the door open and stepped inside.

  Trent lay sprawled across the bed, hair matted on one side. Even from the doorway, the thick stench of alcohol and body odor sickened her. She tiptoed to the dresser. She grabbed a pair of socks and underwear and set them on the edge of the bed before turning to the closet. A pair of jeans lay crumpled on the floor. She stared at them for a long time.

  Reaching down, she searched through the pockets until she felt the smooth leather of his wallet. A small slip of paper—it looked like a beverage napkin—was tucked into the fold where a wad of cash should have been.

  Her hands trembled as she smoothed it flat, blinking at the phone number written across the napkin. After copying the information into a small notepad lying on her dresser, she tucked the napkin back into his wallet and returned it to his jeans. She folded her copy then clutched it in her sweaty palm. Tears pricked her eyes as she turned her attention back to their closet.

  Don’t cry. Not now. Not today.

  Trent stirred then pushed himself to a seated position, looking at Alice with bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes. “What time is it?”

  She didn’t answer right away, her hands fisted by her sides. “8:15. Where’s the checkbook? I can’t find it.”

  “What happened to all that cash I gave you?”

  Alice crossed her arms. “You mean the $50 you gave me last week?”

  “Yeah.” He lumbered to his feet and reached for the slacks, swaying.

  “It’s called groceries.”

  “Is that all I am to you, a paycheck?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  She stormed out and slammed the door behind her. Danny stood in the hall, eyes alert and sorrowful.

  Alice touched his shoulder. “You almost ready?”

  He nodded, watched her a moment longer, then shuffled down the hall.

  She waited until he disappeared into his room, then grabbed her cell phone and ran downstairs. Standing in the dim hallway, she paused. What if the number belonged to a woman? What then?

  The television seeped through the ceiling, muffling the sound of footsteps overhead. A door creaked, and then clicked shut.

  She moved into Trent’s office, fell into the desk chair, and spread the number before her. Her hand felt slick around the phone. She dialed then waited.

  “Hello?” A male voice, low and scratchy. “Who is this?”

  “I . . . wrong number.” She hit call end and dropped her phone onto the desk.

  A man? That didn’t make sense.

  What in the world was going on?

  Trent Goddard, you’re driving me insane. And she was letting him. But what recourse did she have? She had nowhere else to go, no game plan, no job, and no money.

  CHAPTER 14

  Monday morning, Alice clutched her purse to her chest and watched an old lady with wide, pink curlers tucked under a shower cap talk to the blonde cashier. She glanced around at the men and women lined be
hind her. A man in a pinstripe suit caught her gaze and smiled. She looked away.

  She needed cash—as much as she could get. Enough to hold her over until she got a job.

  Like anyone would hire her. If only she hadn’t blown off college 19 years ago. Her mom tried to warn her. Told her not to get married until after she’d finished her degree. But she’d been so googly eyed in love over the dark and dashing graphic design major, college seemed like nothing more than a distraction.

  “May I help you?” A lady with a flawless milk-chocolate complexion offered Alice a bright smile.

  “Yes, I’d like to make a withdrawal, please.” She placed a deposit slip and her driver’s license on the counter.

  “For $2,000?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The teller typed on her keyboard then stopped. “It appears that your account is overdrawn.”

  Already?

  “What do you mean overdrawn?”

  “Three checks were returned for insufficient funds. Adding the overdraft and returned check fees—”

  Alice blinked. “Could you just print out the statements, please?”

  The girl hit a button, and a large printer behind her hummed. Watching one sheet after another spit out of the machine reminded Alice of all the companies they wrote checks to in a given month.

  Which payments had bounced? To the water department? The grocery? Their tithe? How many lists held their names, printed in bright red ink, taped beside the cash register? And what about their mortgage? They could lose their house. She gripped the edge of the counter, her stomach churning.

  Her thoughts turned to Danny. They’d talked the other night, at first about his classes, his friends, sports. But then Danny’d grown quiet and had looked so . . . sad. After some prodding, he’d shared his fears, and pain. Apparently, she hadn’t done a very good job of hiding their financial struggles. Somehow he blamed himself for his dad’s emotional withdrawal. What would her boys do if they lost their home, on top of everything else?

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” The teller’s voice jolted Alice back to the present. She handed over a stack of papers. “Should I—”

  “Thank you.” Alice grabbed the statements, spun around, and marched out of the bank.

  That evening, Trent handed Alice two $100 bills. “Here.”

  She studied her husband. He had aged considerably in the last five years. Thick bags sagged under his eyes and his skin held a bluish tint. A stark contrast to the clean-shaven, sharply dressed graphic designer she had married.

  “Where’d you get this?” Because according to the long list of debits and overdraft fees printed on their bank statement, they were broke.

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean where’d I get it? Where do I always get it?”

  I have no idea.

  She wanted to throw the cash in his face and storm off, but she needed the money. “Thank you.” Shame burned her cheeks as she tucked the bills into her back pocket.

  She deposited her purse on the coffee table and glanced at the clock—10:30. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “Don’t act so thrilled. If you must know, I’m working from home.” He waved a hand toward his computer case lying on the floor next to an opened beer bottle.

  “Really? And why don’t I believe you?”

  “Always looking for a fight.”

  She crossed her arms. “No, Trent. You’re behavior instigates our fights.”

  His scowl deepened, and a dark shadow fell across his eyes. He lumbered to the recliner and fell into it. After settling his computer bag on his lap, he reached for his beer.

  “It’s kind of early to be drinking, isn’t it?” She picked up an empty chip bag lying on the coffee table. Crumbs scattered across the smooth wood. She wiped them into the palm of her hand.

  “What? You the beer police now? Can’t a man kick back once in a while?”

  She huffed. “You know what? It’s not worth it.” She started to walk away, but he grabbed her hand.

  She flinched. Stiffening, she glared at him.

  “Hey, come on. Let’s not start our day like this. You don’t want me drinking a beer this early, I’ll put it aside. No big deal.”

  She sighed and kneaded the back of her neck. She studied her husband for a long moment. “I’m going to the store.”

  “Maybe when you get back we could go for a walk or something. What do you say? It’s such a beautiful day, and some fresh air would do me good. Do us both good.”

  Silence stretched between them as her thoughts raged. Watching her, his expression softened, and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of the man she’d married. But that man had walked out on her the moment he took off his wedding ring.

  She shook her head and walked out, pausing on the front porch. She wanted to walk away, for good. But she wasn’t ready to take that step. Not yet.

  CHAPTER 15

  Trent’s head throbbed. Warm blood spilled from his lip and nose and flooded his mouth. The wet pavement pressed against the side of his face like sandpaper. Pain stabbed his chest as he pushed himself onto all fours. He reached a shaking hand across his torso and ran his fingers along his ribs. His lungs and gut hurt like crazy, but his breathing, raspy as it was, told him nothing had been broken. This time.

  Jay’s men wouldn’t be so merciful next time; not that getting his face bashed in was a walk in the park.

  He staggered to his feet and shot a glance behind him. A dim stream of light flickered from a rusted lamppost and cast long shadows across the trash-littered alley. An overflowing Dumpster sat beside the crumbling brick wall next to a mound of partially broken down boxes. He looked the other direction. Rusted metal pipes and cement blocks piled beneath a boarded up window. Something metallic clanked, followed by a soft rustling. He spun around, his heart thrashing as his gaze darted from one shadow to the next.

  A calico cat leapt from behind the Dumpster and ran across the alley.

  He released the breath he’d been holding. They were gone. Jay and his thug-for-hire were gone. For now. But they’d be back, sooner rather than later. And Trent had learned his lesson well—partial payments were unacceptable. He didn’t need a refresher course.

  Alice tucked her feet beneath her and wrapped a blue blanket around her shoulders. Danny sat on her left stuffing his face with hot, buttery popcorn. Tim sat to her right, chuckling. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. He glanced at her, and for once, laughter, not resentment, filled his eyes.

  She smiled. This had been a great idea. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d all watched a movie together. Well, almost all of them. She looked at the empty recliner a few feet away. If only Trent were here—the old Trent—the evening would be perfect.

  “Oh! Watch this!” Danny bounced in his seat, pointing at the television screen. “Blam! Gotcha!” He let out a chesty laugh, sending popcorn flying in every direction.

  “Way to make a mess there, dweeb.” Tim picked up a handful of popcorn and pelted his brother with the kernels.

  Danny fired back and Tim angled his head and opened his mouth. He jerked his face right and left as popcorn pelted his cheeks and bounced off his lips.

  More laughter filled the living room. Alice giggled so hard she choked.

  She shook her head. “You boys are crazy.”

  This was all the invitation they needed, and within seconds, Alice became their target. Laughing, she shielded her face with her arms and fell backward beneath an arsenal of buttery kernels. By the time they caught their breath, the bowl sat empty and white puffs decorated the carpet.

  “And now, my sweet boys, you get to help your mother clean up this mess.”

  Tim started to rise when the front door clicked open, followed by the familiar squeak of rusted hinges. Frowning, he plopped back onto the couch and grabbed the remote. Alice began to pick popcorn off the carpet. A soft swishing sound grew fainter as footsteps made their way down the stairs and into the “cave.”
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br />   Tim grumbled under his breath and turned up the volume. Alice stood, her stomach tightening. She looked at her boys, but neither returned her gaze. They acted like Trent’s behavior was all her fault.

  Well, she hadn’t done anything wrong, and she wouldn’t feel guilty for something she had no control over. If only her boys, her precious boys, would see it the same way.

  “I’ll be back.” She patted Danny’s knee. He visibly tensed, and his eyebrows pinched together.

  Alice crossed the room. She paused at the top of the stairs to take in a calming breath before descending into the basement. It was dark, except for the small beam of light drifting from the entryway. At first, she could see only the outline of vague forms. Eventually, the forms took shape as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing her husband hunched over in the recliner with his head in his hands.

  “Trent?” She spoke softly, barely above a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t respond. Didn’t move. She stepped closer, her pulse quickening at the tremors that rippled through him. Rushing to his side, she knelt on the carpet and touched his shoulder. His thick hands hid his face.

  “Trent?” Had he been fired? Was that why he spent so many days “working from home”? Without his next paycheck, they’d lose the house for sure.

  He lifted his head, and the dim light revealed red, swollen flesh surrounding his left eye. Blood oozed from a busted lip and inflamed nose. Cupping his chin in her hands, she turned his face toward her. “What happened?”

  He pulled away and shook his head.

  Alice jerked back, muscles constricting as one explanation rose to the forefront of her mind. He’d been in a bar fight? Forty-six years old, and he’d been out throwing blows like a teenager.

  “Forget it.” Trent straightened and grabbed the remote. The television came on, and two feuding sportscasters bellowed from the screen.

  Alice massaged her temples. “This is stupid.” They weren’t in high school anymore, and she was tired of being married to a drunk. “I’m too old for these games. Way too old.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m telling you right now, you need to stop this. Now.”