Broken Together

by K. L. Gilchrist

  Tracey raised her head up to stare in Brian’s eyes. “Tyler is here and his father offered me a place to lay my head.”

  Brian’s nostrils flared. “Fine. You rested. Now get your stuff. You can follow me back home right now.”

  Tracey didn’t blink. “No,” she answered, firmly.

  “No?”

  She stepped backwards as he leaned in toward her. “So help me God, if you lay one hand on me—”

  “Stop it! You know I’m not that kind of guy!”

  If Tracey could have raised her eyebrows until they touched her hairline she would have. “Really? I knew you weren’t a cheater until you cheated. And I knew you weren’t a liar until you lied to me.”

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere!” Brian wiped away sweat from his forehead. “Shouldn’t it be enough to know I drove like a bat out of hell to come up here for you?”

  Tracey crossed her arms and stood her ground. Sure, Brian had probably broken all major driving laws to arrive in Long Island before sunset. And he’d dropped his pride enough to ask Ma and Jamal to care for Brianna when he zipped off. Tracey meant a lot to him, no doubt about that. But why couldn’t he have realized that at the beginning of the year?

  “I’m staying put until I figure out what I want to do,” Tracey said.

  “You have a family!”

  “You do too. That didn’t stop you.”

  Brian placed a hand on the side of his jaw and rubbed. “So you want to keep making this hard?”

  Water came into Tracey’s eyes, but she willed herself not to cry. No more tears. Tears could not help the situation. Her insides throbbed with hurt. “Brian, I’m tired. When I go home, I have to deal with …” She looked so deep into his eyes she could see his pupils dilating. “I might be better off here for a minute.”

  “I’m not happy about you staying here. Not by a long shot. This isn’t …” Brian looked away.

  Tracey looked away too, staring down the quiet, tree-lined street. Why couldn’t Kyle’s house be on a busy road? Everyone in his house had likely heard their conversation, including Tyler.

  “Our year has been one big mess. Now, I’m a mess. Nothing makes any sense to me.” Tracey sighed.

  “You’ve got a husband and a young daughter, Tracey. A daughter,” Brian’s voice caught. “You’re hurting everyone.”

  No more words. Tracey stood still, holding everything inside as she watched Brian walk back to his car, climb in, and drive away.

  Tracey’s stomach ached and low blood sugar made her feel sick. After Brian drove away she entered the house and went straight to the kitchen to find something to eat before she passed out from starvation. Tyler wandered in while she served herself a dish of peach cobbler.

  “Mom?”

  “Ty, please don’t ask.”

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Cause if he did—”

  Tracey spun around on the kitchen stool. “He went home, honey. Home. I didn’t touch him. He didn’t touch me. He’s still your stepfather, and the man that helped raise you. Has he ever hurt you?”

  “No,” Tyler shook his head and frowned, a confused look in his eyes. “But what went on last weekend? Dad told me you and Brian had a fight. What happened to your feet?”

  If she didn’t tell him he’d keep asking. “On Sunday night we got into an argument. He said some things … anyway, I got mad and threw some glasses at him. They shattered all over the kitchen floor, and I managed to step on some and got cut.”

  “What glasses?”

  Good grief, why did it matter? “Our wedding crystal.”

  Tyler paused for a second. “So he didn’t hit you at all?”

  “No. And we need to stop talking about this right now because the fight’s over, and I’m not in the mood to relive it.” She chewed and swallowed. “Where are your grandparents?”

  “Oh, they have in-law quarters on the other side of the house. They have their own living room and everything. Dad hooked their area up nice. You gotta walk over and see it. Plus, they’re in and out a lot. They do a lot with their church, and you know everywhere Granny goes, Grandpop goes with her. I think they’re at a fellowship tonight.”

  “Always a duo?”

  “Always.” Tyler moved in closer. “What made you so angry that you threw your crystal at him? Things were better in the house last month.”

  “Ty?”

  “I should leave you alone about it, huh?”

  She nodded.

  He stood over her, bent down, and kissed her on the forehead. “All right then.”

  She watched him leave the kitchen. A minute later she heard the sound of a PlayStation being turned on in the living room.

  Tracey dished out more peach cobbler and gulped it down along with a tall glass of iced tea. Ms. Celeste was a remarkable baker. Tracey loved to cook but she had nowhere near the skills Tyler’s grandmother possessed with baking ingredients and a hot oven. The breakfast bar held a clear glass cookie jar filled with oatmeal raisin cookies, a cake stand holding up a sinfully rich-looking red velvet cake, and the baking dish that held the peach cobbler. To confirm Ms. Celeste had indeed made Tyler all his favorites, Tracey peeked in the bottom of the refrigerator. Sure enough, a round, green plastic container was filled with banana pudding. No wonder Kyle was a bachelor—unless he married one of the female chefs from the Food Network, he was hard pressed to find anyone who could cook from scratch like this nowadays.

  But this was Kyle’s house. Since he’d offered Tracey asylum, the least she could do was make an appearance and thank him. She needed to shower and dress, and then go find Kyle somewhere around his cavern of a house.

  Tracey roamed around the house a bit after cleaning up and finally spied Kyle out on the wide backyard deck. She slid the patio doors open and stepped out onto the red-brown wood. Kyle was reclining on an outdoor chaise lounge, a burning cigar in one hand and brown liquid on ice in a glass on a small table next to him. It had been a couple years since she’d been around Kyle physically—not since Tyler graduated from middle school. He looked the same. Handsome. Short, curly black hair. Gray hair sprinkled at his temples showed his advancing age—that and the luggage hanging beneath his eyes. He wore black pants and a white shirt with the patterned tie loosened about his neck. He had his legs stretched out in front of him and he’d removed his shoes and socks, putting his bare feet on display.

  “Mrs. Jones,” Kyle gestured toward the empty chair next to him.

  “Mr. Addison,” Tracey stepped over to the chair and sat down. “You called my husband?”

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t think he’d actually jump in the car and come up here but I guess he had to do what he had to do.” Kyle tapped ash off his cigar into a small glass ashtray on the table next to him.

  “Out front … what did you say to him?” Tracey asked.

  “I said, ‘If you love her at all you’ll give her what she needs right now, because if she leaves, seriously she is gone for good’. We said a few things after, but basically that was it.”

  She raised both eyebrows. “I didn’t think you’d take up for me. I’m shocked.”

  Kyle shrugged, then reached for his glass.

  “Jack Daniels?” Tracey said.

  “It’s what I like.”

  She settled back in her chair. “I’m not judging.”

  He sipped his drink. “You are judging, but it’s cool. I won’t kick you out.”

  “Gee thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Kyle took another sip then cocked his head to the side. “Now why are you here?”

  “You asked me to come here.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” He turned toward her. “I mean, why’d you leave your house in the first place?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, I’ve got my drink and my chair and my smoke. I�
��m good. Go on and let it out.”

  Tracey sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

  “You’re staying in my house,” He said, sipping from the glass again. “So, no.”

  “Brian had an affair.”

  “I already knew that, remember? And he’s not the first dude to do so. Go on. Something must have happened after that.”

  Tracey studied the expression on his face. No shock there. No judgment either. His eyes riveted to her, and he’d stopped sipping his drink. She kept going. “We were on a rocky path for a few months. Just going through the motions with each other. I kept a lot of anger inside because I wanted to keep the peace in the house. Our relationship was different, you know, even after we tried to patch things up.” She hunched her shoulders. “Then I acted out a bit, spending money without talking to him about it, but we got past that too. Our relationship got better and I honestly thought everything would work out in time.”

  “I hear you,” Kyle said.

  This was the hard part. “Now … he’s having a baby.”

  “I’m confused.” A puzzled look crossed Kyle’s face. “With you?”

  “With her.”

  “Oh.”

  Tracey kept her face downward. “Sunday … the woman … her name is Lisette … comes to my church and confronts my husband right there in the parking lot with her little round belly showing.”

  Kyle slumped back in his chair. “Whoa. Brian? Something like this? I would have never thought.”

  “Kyle, I lost it on him. Yelling. Throwing stuff. And since I don’t want my kids sending me care packages addressed to Muncy Prison, I decided to go to Monica’s for a bit. But then I got on the road and started driving. You know that show Snapped, where women lose it and drive their mates over with trucks or poison them with cyanide?”

  Kyle nodded.

  “It was like that.”

  Kyle shook his head. “I hate to hear stories like this. I like to believe I can have something like my Mom and Pops have, but I don’t know. Look at you two—and you all are in the church.”

  Tracey winced. A violent fighting couple. Great. She and Brian made one heck of an impression on an unsaved person, didn’t they? Out of her house, away from Brian and Brianna, and there she sat pouring out her married sorrows to Kyle, of all people. She tipped back her head and stared up at the darkening sky.

  Lord. Please tell me. What is it going it take to fix this train wreck?

  27

  Brianna.

  Visions of the girl floated through Tracey’s mind. The child’s lopsided smile. Her plucky spirit. Her naked, tangled-hair Barbie dolls laying on tabletops and sometimes abandoned on floors. Her warm, toasty brown skin and constant hugs. Tracey’s heart thumped hard inside her chest, and she put her hand over it as she turned over in bed and stared at the white ceiling of a strange room. She swallowed hard and blinked back water in her eyes. Being away from her small daughter made her soul ache. How could she drive away like that? Marriage broken. Family splintered. At first it seemed easy to point the finger at Brian as the catalyst, but now heavy guilt tugged at her as she considered her own actions from the last two days.

  Tracey slid out of bed, grabbed her purse from the dresser, fished out her phone, and called home without thinking about it.

  Brian answered on the first ring. “Tracey.”

  “I uh.” Tracey cleared her throat, and started again. “I need to talk to Brianna.”

  “Are you on your way home? You should be on your way home.”

  “Brian … please … I’m asking you … don’t give me a hard time.”

  A pause. “Hold on. She’s in her room.”

  Tracey dropped back down on the bed and waited. A minute seemed like a lifetime before she heard Brianna’s sunny voice.

  “Mommy?”

  “Hi baby. How are you?”

  “Fine. I miss you. Can I come see you? Where are you?”

  A five-year-old could only take the simple truth. Tracey could provide that at least.

  “I needed a break. Kind of like a vacation.”

  “You didn’t say goodbye to me.”

  “I know honey.”

  “I drew you a picture yesterday. Sailboats. You me and daddy were on a boat. We were on the water. I made the water blue.”

  Tracey swallowed hard at the lump in her throat. “The three of us on a sailboat, huh?”

  “And a big sunshine. And the sunshine was smiling. Can you come see my picture today?”

  “No honey, not today. But very soon.”

  “Soon?”

  “Soon.”

  “When you get back can we go to the sprayground with all the water jets? And can I get ice cream from the Mister Softee truck?” Brianna asked.

  “We sure will. I’ll call you again sugar. Can you give the phone back to daddy?”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Another pause, then Brian’s voice again. “She misses you.”

  “I know.” Tracey couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Yeah. Right,” Brian said.

  Their connection ended.

  Nothing but silence.

  Tracey had expected her bestie to support her, so she was shocked when she called Monica later in the morning and received an earful of discontent in return.

  “You … self-centered … unbelievable!” Monica yelled.

  “Will you at least hear me out?”

  “No! I was here for you! I’m always here for you. You could have followed through and stayed at my apartment! But this? Kyle? Don’t you have enough trouble?”

  “My staying in New York is so not about Kyle. I’m here because Tyler is here.”

  “Keep telling yourself that. Keep on! You can’t tell me that because I was the one with you seventeen years ago when he broke your heart and you were about to lose your mind over him. I dragged your butt out of bed when you were determined to stay there until you starved to death. Now you think his house is safer for you than mine? Girl … ” Monica whistled. “At least create a story better than the tale you’re telling!”

  “You think I’m running from a disaster with Brian straight into some mess with Kyle?”

  “I don’t think. I know! And I’m not going to sit here in the supportive sister-friend role while you jump from one crisis to another. I didn’t trust Kyle when we were at Syracuse. I don’t trust him now, even if he is my godson’s father. I’m not on Team Brian either but using Kyle to make Brian jealous is low.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Yeah jealous! Sleeping over at your son’s father’s house sounds like some hot ghetto mess to me and that’s NOT you.”

  “Right, so somehow I forced Kyle and Tyler to ask me to stay here?”

  “I don’t know how you sounded or what you said, I wasn’t on the phone with you, but I’m talking to you now telling you you’re wrong for this!”

  Tracey’s chest felt like a wide rubber band stretched around her lungs, keeping them from fully expanding. “Well, I’m here. I guess there’s not much else I can say.”

  “No, you can’t. You’ve been my sister since we pledged and you always will be, but I’m not behind you. Not for this.”

  Then Monica was gone.

  Tracey turned her phone off and buried it in the bottom of her purse. She’d wanted to call her Mom and Charla, but what was the point? It was plain crazy for her to think her loved ones would understand. How could they? No one stood with her behind the church on Sunday night. No one except Brian, in the kitchen surrounded by broken glass and smeared blood on the floor.

  Kyle had offered her an option. She took it. Funny. Back in February Lisette had offered Brian an option. He took it. Later on he had to face the repercussions of his choice.

  Tracey guessed it was her turn now.
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br />   Meeting up with Kyle’s mother Celeste was a trip. Tracey finally ran into her in the kitchen at lunchtime, and Celeste gracefully managed to co-opt Tracey into being her afternoon travel companion. In the course of four hours, Celeste had taken Tracey on a whirlwind tour to her favorite hair salon, a grocery store, and a quick visit to Home Depot. Celeste didn’t ask or say one word about Tracey staying at the house. Big-mouthed Kyle probably told her everything, and for once, Tracey felt grateful for his talkativeness. It saved her an explanation.

  Once they arrived back in the house, Tracey thought she’d be able to slip out of the woman’s grasp and hide in the guest room, but she didn’t move fast enough. Before Tracey had a chance to retreat, Celeste had managed to zip over to her wing of the house. She’d changed into jeans, gardening clogs and a long sleeved shirt, and come back to the kitchen with more plans for Tracey which included pulling weeds and tending plants. With no way to escape politely, Tracey found herself trekking to the backyard to work in the garden.

  “Here, take this,” Celeste said, pushing a potted green plant into Tracey’s arms.

  Tracey dropped the wooden rake she’d been using to clear away the weeds they’d pulled from a flower bed. “What is this? What do you want me to do with it?”

  “This plant? Basil. There’s an area over in the side yard where I need you to take it out of the pot and transplant it in the herb garden.”

  “Ms. Celeste … um … I don’t know how to transplant anything.” Tracey grasped the pot awkwardly, running her fingers over the nubby texture.

  “I’ll have to show you then. Come on.”

  Celeste led the way over to the side yard. More beautiful rows of colorful flowers next to a large rectangular patch with lots of green sprouting up. Tracey guessed that was the herb garden when Celeste stopped in front of the dark earth and knelt down on the grass.

  “I started all of these herbs indoors and they’ve been doing great since I transplanted them here. Fennel. Chives. Dill. Rosemary. Oregano. Parsley. Now I’m ready to put the basil in here.” She looked up at Tracey, sunlight bouncing off the gold rims of her glasses. “Come on. Kneel down here. Put your hands in this dirt.”