Broken Together

by K. L. Gilchrist

  “No. If you feel uncomfortable take them off.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Tracey dropped her heels on the floor and turned Charla around so she could see Monica.

  Monica had already changed into a pair of silver open-toed sky-high stilettos. The shoes and her height made her look like a super-sized runway model.

  “Dang. Skyscrapers and everythang girl.” Charla stared down at the silver shoes.

  “All you need is some lingerie and fake wings on your back and you could be an angel in the VS Fashion Show!” Tracey said.

  Monica pivoted, walked, and then pivoted again. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, darlings. Tracey, you better get up on those heels and learn you something you can take home.”

  Charla held on to Tracey as she slipped on her heels. “She’s gonna to do just that. Here comes our teachers.”

  Charla had told Tracey the teachers would instruct them on erotic movement and dance. So Tracey figured the instructors would be young, lovely, long-limbed, lithe women capable of moving their bodies with seductive grace. She smiled when across the floor walked a pale, petite, steel-haired, middle-aged woman wearing black yoga gear. The woman beamed as she took long strides to the center of the room, then greeted the class.

  “Hello everyone! I’m Meredith. Glad you could make it to this afternoon’s class.” She peered around the room. “I see we have some new people here and a few ‘returners’.” Meredith pointed enthusiastically and Charla and two other women waved back. “Excellent. First-timers, I hope you enjoy yourselves, and returners—I think you’ll find a few new things to incorporate into your routine. This is my assistant, Susie, and she’ll be helping me demonstrate the moves.”

  A young redhead with freckles grinned at the crowd. She wore a tight white fitted t-shirt, black leggings and red platform heels so high Tracey hoped she wouldn’t fall and break her neck.

  Meredith raised her hand. “Let me see the hands of all the wives here. Oh, and all the moms.”

  Tracey thrust her arm in the air in concert with seven other women.

  “We’re so glad you’re here. Welcome.” Meredith nodded at them. “One of the reasons we put together these classes was to help you get reacquainted with your intimate self. Yes, you’re a wife or a mother or both, but you are also a woman. In the hustle and bustle of your daily life, you’re probably used to tending to everyone else and shoving yourself aside, right? For example, all my mommies, how many of you have danced this week?”

  No one raised their hand.

  “Any of you taken a long hot bubble bath this week? With fragrant candles placed around the bathroom?”

  Again, no hands.

  “Anyone undressed seductively for your partner and allowed them to enjoy seeing your body move before exploring it?”

  Crickets.

  “Well then, this is the right place for you. This class is all about learning movements that will help you appreciate your bodies and connect with your intimate self. This is not a pole dance or strip dance class. It is a movement class, and many of the moves will teach you how to get out of your clothes in a more seductive manner,” Meredith pronounced.

  Tracey rubbed her hands together and looked down at the floor. She adored making love with Brian, but she’d never danced naked for him, not even on their honeymoon. Sliding out of her clothes as a way to entice him? Never. Their sex life was enjoyable and warm, but she’d never thought to stage any sort of show, not even when the frequency of their sex started to dwindle. No candles or baths. And definitely no erotic movement involving stripping, chairs, fuzzy fabric, or feather boas. Maybe if she had been doing that, the door would not have been cracked open for Lisette to entice Brian? Oh, whatever. Just concentrate on learning new moves, Tracey thought.

  “Ladies, before you leave here today you will have created your own movement routine step by step.” Meredith moved over to Susie and put her hands on Susie’s shoulders. “Susie here is going to put on some music and show you a sample routine. So everyone take a seat for a moment. Relax, listen to the music, and have a look.”

  Tracey eased down on the floor and pushed her back up against the mirrored wall. She leaned over toward Charla and whispered. “She’s not going to be naked at the end of this, is she?”

  “No. I keep telling you this is not a freak show. Watch.”

  “This is like the routine you do for Ricky?”

  “Sweetie, I’ve got many routines.”

  “You make me sick.” Tracey gave Charla a playful shove.

  Susie dimmed the lights and fiddled with buttons on the stereo system. She lit three candles and placed them on the shelf next to the stereo. Then she moved to the center of the room. The music started. Luke James. “Make Love to Me.” Mild and slow. The class watched carefully as Susie listened to the music for a few beats. Then she began to sway. Slow. She rolled her hips to the music, and then moved the rest of her body into the act. By the time she sank slowly to the floor and slithered across it, it looked like she melded with the song, illustrating each note with her body movements. She used her arms, her legs, her hips. In the dance, Susie moved from a standing position, to the floor, to a chair, and to the mirrored wall behind her. By the time the song ended, she was seated in a chair, beckoning to an imaginary lover with a come-hither gesture.

  The class clapped when Meredith brought the lights back up.

  “Thank you Susie,” Meredith beamed as Susie put the props back and clicked off the stereo. “Now everything Susie demonstrated was a different move. She strung all the basic moves together and performed them in different places.”

  Seductive, sexy movements. Tracey could do that. Nothing in the routine required her to be a contortionist.

  “Okay, now we’re going to get right into it. Everyone come on out to the floor and find a spot. We’re going to work on the very first move. Your walk.” Meredith said.

  Tracey jumped to her feet. She was the first one out on the floor, standing right behind Meredith. Charla and Monica rolled their eyes, but she didn’t care. Something inside of her yearned to learn something new. To move. To dance. To have something she could show off with when she decided to use it. It sure would surprise Brian. She missed making love with him, and even though she wasn’t sure when that would happen again, she felt warm inside thinking about it. If he was going to be surprised, she’d have to reconnect with him at some point. Some time when her anger and frustration subsided. But she wouldn’t worry about it now.

  Susie changed the music on the stereo. This time the sweet voice of Sade filled the studio. Tracey followed Meredith’s instructions on how to execute the sexy walk in time to the music, and how to add sexy arms with the walk. When the music changed to Luther Vandross and Tracey started rolling her hips back and forth in time to the music, she felt like a pro—a seductive, fun-loving, hip-swaying, hair-shaking pro. By the time she slithered across the floor on her knees and turned over on her back she was really into it. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Sweaty. Serious. T-shirt moist and sticking to her chest and shoulders. Her face flushed with color. Brown body moving in curves. Arms and fingers inviting someone to play—to come into her world. She felt sexy again, for the first time in a very long time. Something Brian would want to see. Yep. Probably what he needed to see.

  “Where is everybody?” Tracey called out when she sauntered in the house that evening.

  “I’m in here.” Brian answered from the family room.

  She went to the family room and saw Brian sprawled across the couch with a throw pillow clutched against his chest, watching basketball. “March madness?”

  Brian yawned. “Yeah. It’s that time again.”

  “Kids?”

  “I put Brianna in her room. Tyler went to hang out at Jonathan’s house. He’ll be back by ten.”

  “Oh.” Tracey put her purse down on the couch
table and unzipped her jacket. “Why’d you send her to bed so early?”

  “She whined and complained too much about not having pizza tonight. I gave her a few minutes to get herself together, and when she looked like she was going to throw a tantrum, I sent her upstairs for fifteen minutes. I went to check on her when her time was up and she was fast asleep.”

  Tracey chuckled. “Sounds like our favorite kindergartener.” She pulled off her leather jacket, took off her gloves, and unwrapped the soft pink pashmina from around her neck. She stood looking down at her husband as he stared at the TV and watched a couple of college boys rush for the ball.

  “You eat?” She asked.

  He shifted on the couch. “I heated up some leftover lasagna and made us some salad. I tried to wait for you but I didn’t know you were going to be out past eight.”

  Tracey rubbed her neck. Shifted her weight from foot to foot. “No, that’s fine. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

  Brian turned from his game and gave her a deep look. “Eat a little something. You’ve been out all day. Bring your plate in here and hang out with me.”

  “Sure.” Why fuss about it? The t-shirt sticking to her back reminded her she’d missed him. He’d been on her mind as she’d danced that afternoon. Eating dinner with him on the couch wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  Brian had sat up, scooted over, and made room for Tracey at the end of the couch by the time she came back with her plate and a glass of ice water. She put her drink down on the side table, balanced her plate on her lap, and settled in. He must have cleaned up the family room because there weren’t any games, puzzle books, PlayStation controllers, dolls or other mess scattered around, and no dust on the tables or specks of dirt on the floor. He knew she liked the rooms to be picked up in the evening time. She appreciated it.

  On the TV, the college hoops crowd screamed, each side trying to motivate its team to trump the other one. If she were there, she’d be jumping and screaming, dropping popcorn on the floor and acting wild. When they were newly married they used to attend at least three Sixers games each season. Used to.

  “Still a Sixers fan?” She asked after swallowing a mouthful of tomato and pasta.

  “I have to be, I grew up here and those are my boys.”

  “You’re better than me. I turned to Miami Heat last year.”

  “Traitor.”

  “Yeah, well, I want my team to win for a change.”

  “I like rooting for the underdog. They can still pull through.”

  She sipped some water and cleared her throat. “Don’t count on it.”

  He laughed. She smiled. They kept watching the game while she finished her food.

  College boys ran up and down the court while the sounds of the ecstatic crowd rose and fell with every one of their attempts to steal, shoot, or pass the ball. But they kept going. No matter how many fouls were called or baskets were missed. No matter how many times a player tried for the ball and ended up sweaty and sprawled on his backside on the floor, he’d get back up. Shake off the sweat and pain and embarrassment. Jump back in game. The athlete was part of a team, and the team had one goal. Win the game.

  Tracey needed to shower and shampoo. Her hair had unraveled out of a messy bun. Her t-shirt stuck to her back and her yoga pants clung to her butt and thighs. But she didn’t care. This was the closest she’d been to Brian for a month. She guessed she’d finally cooled off because being next to him didn’t give her those hot lava jolts of anger anymore.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. Closed her eyes and breathed in deep as she snaked her arms around his waist. “I’m tired.”

  Brian put a hand on her arm. Rubbed it gently. Then moved it upwards. Rubbed her shoulder. “I’m tired too.”

  Tracey kept her head on his shoulder. He smelled yummy. Like soap and cologne. Boy, it felt good to hold him again. To be close again made her feel precious. She nudged him. “So where are we going?”

  “Upstairs when the game is over.”

  “No,” she said with her eyes still closed. Her arms tight around his waist. “Where are we going?”

  He sighed as he let his head drop down. He kissed the top of her forehead. “You’re holding the answer to that.”

  Betrayal? Ugh. It made her want to destroy everything in sight, stopping short of her own marriage. But that was over now. Today his strong arms held her as they sat in the family room he had cleaned up. Eating lasagna she’d cooked. In their warm house. Back to normal. Almost as if nothing had ever happened. This was Tracey’s husband. And although someone had tried, no one had taken him. He wasn’t leaving. He apologized. He’d asked for forgiveness. And he was here now, with his arms around her, making her feel safe and protected.

  Safe plus protected equaled love.

  Tracey raised her head and looked Brian in the eye. “We’ve got a nice bedroom.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re supposed to stay in it at night. Together.”

  “I know.” Brian scooted closer to Tracey.

  “So,” Tracey said. “Let’s start there. We’ll work the rest out in time.”

  He squeezed her tighter. “Sounds good to me.”

  13

  “Mom! Somebody’s at the door!” Tyler called from the downstairs hallway.

  Tracey’s fingers were covered with hair moisturizer. She sat with an irritated Brianna between her knees as she combed, parted, and moisturized the girl’s hair. “Well did you answer it? Who is it?”

  “Yeah. A lady says she’s looking for Brian,” he yelled back.

  Tracey’s spine stiffened. Drops of moisturizer flew off the tips of her fingers and landed on her dark jeans, her shoes, and the wooden floor. Uh-uh. It couldn’t be …

  “Ty, what’s she look like?”

  “Latina lady with long wavy hair.”

  Tracey pushed Brianna out from between her legs and ignoring the girl’s yelp, told her to stay put. She tossed the comb and brush on Brianna’s play table, ran out of the room, flew down the stairs—barely righting herself when she tripped and slid across the front hallway—and shoved her son aside at the front door.

  No mistake. There stood Lisette, in neat black pants, a lime-colored button down shirt and a short black jacket. She appeared business-like but Tracey seriously doubted the woman had secured a job with Publishers Clearinghouse and had come there to deliver a million dollar check.

  Keep your head, Tracey. Keep. Your. Head.

  Tracey backed away from the door, partially closing it while she used her other hand to snatch Tyler to the side.

  “Mom! You almost fell. Who is that?”

  Tracey spoke fast. “She worked with Brian at the practice for a few months. I need to speak to her. Do me a favor and go upstairs and keep Brianna from coming down here!”

  “Nah. Uh uh. I’m not leaving!” Tyler said.

  “Ty, please. This is something I have to deal with.”

  “Forget it, mom. You don’t look right … and … you want me to get rid of her? Because I can get rid of her!”

  Listen to this kid sticking up for her. But now was not the time. She squeezed his hand then gave him a push toward the staircase.

  “No, please do what I say. Upstairs. Distract your sister and make sure she doesn’t come walking down those steps.” That was all Tracey needed—to get Tyler and Brianna mixed up in some mess she’d been praying was over for good.

  Tyler grumbled and grasped the doorknob. Tracey grabbed his arm, pursed her lips and stared into his eyes, telegraphing her serious attitude to her son. She breathed a sigh of relief as he let go of the door and turned toward the stairs. As soon as she heard his feet on the staircase she opened the front door.

  Lisette stood there on the porch. Quiet. Pretty face made up to perfection. Perfect full lips. Small cold eyes.

  Tracey took a
quick deep breath. Blew it out. Then she pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the front porch so fast Lisette had to double step backwards to avoid being whacked by the door handle. “Can I help you?” Tracey said.

  Lisette recovered fast. “Yes. I’m here to talk to Brian. Is he here?”

  “No, he’s not.” The nerve of this woman. Like Tracey would tell her anything, even if he was in the house.

  “When will he be back?”

  Tracey snorted,“That is none of your business.”

  “Well I have some business of my own, and I need to speak to him.”

  “That’s too bad.” Tracey shook her head. She let her words drop slow enough to sink in deep. “Not. Gonna. Happen.”

  “You’ve got some nice porch furniture out here. May I have a seat and wait for him?” Lisette asked.

  “May I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing?”

  “You don’t want to talk to the police, unless you want to tell them how you nearly drove over me.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion. I was in my car, on a public street, I turned the corner and you happened to be stepping off the curb. If I really wanted to run you over, the car would have been on the sidewalk where you were walking.”

  Lisette held up a hand. “Look, I need to speak with him.”

  “About what?” Tracey asked.

  “A personal matter.”

  Tracey rolled her eyes. “I see. Well, he has office hours. You’re well acquainted with where and how long he works.”

  “I need to talk to him privately.”

  “Gee, that’s too bad.” Tracey said as she willed herself avoid dwelling on what the private matter could be. That hot lava feeling darting up her spine and traveling through her chest told her it was best to stay as neutral as possible. The kids were in the house. This was not the time to do something she’d have to repent about later. Peace had to rule the moment. The Lord would provide peace in her heart if she needed it. Now was definitely the time to start asking.

  “He blocked my numbers from his phones. Now I need to see him in person.”