Broken Together

by K. L. Gilchrist

  Brianna had become a koala bear. A crying one. She left a trail of tears on Tracey’s shoulders. The only thing missing was a bamboo shoot sticking out of her mouth.

  All morning and into the afternoon, Brianna attached herself to Tracey’s body and refused to move unless she had to go to the bathroom. Even then, she’d leave the room with a warning glance that telegraphed to Tracey if you exit this room before I get back you’ll be paying for my time on the therapy couch as an adult.

  Brianna insisted Tracey stay with her in her room while they endure a movie marathon. Tracey obliged, and they spent hours together eating snack bowls of buttered popcorn, pretzel M&Ms, and Hershey kisses while they sat on fluffy pillows watching Brianna’s collection of DVDs.

  They were in the middle of Frozen when the house phone rang. Tracey looked down at Brianna’s face, content and dreamy, and decided to ignore it. Two minutes later, the house phone rang again. She disregarded it that time as well. Five minutes later, her cell phone buzzed. Tracey pulled it from her pocket and looked at the caller ID.

  Her mother. Tracey called her back.

  Alice answered on the first ring. “Tracey?”

  “Ma, what’s going on?”

  “Glad you managed to call me back. Brian called this morning and told me you were home. When were you gonna contact me?”

  “As soon as I got time away from Brianna—which isn’t happening anytime soon. How are you?”

  “You looked at your phone today?”

  “Not until now.”

  “Jamal called you. Then he called me.”

  “How is he?”

  “Working so much now I barely see him.”

  Ma’s great. Jamal’s good. Terrific. “Why so many calls?”

  “Well Cinderella, you picked a good time to come back from the ball,” Alice said, her voice sounding heavy.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s your daddy.”

  Tracey’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. “He needs me to come with him to the doctor?” she asked, hoping that’s all it was.

  “No, he had a stroke.”

  “Another mini-stroke?”

  “No,” Alice said quietly, like she either exhaled really hard or blew out smoke. “A full one.”

  At Temple Hospital with Brianna plastered to her hip, Tracey listened—gathering bits and pieces of her father’s story from Alice, Jamal, Uncle Ray, and Pernell’s neighbor, Miss Lottie.

  Pernell had been sitting in his car after driving home that morning from the Rite Aid. But after opening the car door, instead of getting out, he sat there in the driver’s seat and threw up. His neighbor, Miss Lottie, who’d been sweeping her front porch, saw him. She called for her son and both of them helped him out of his car and up to the house where they gave him some water and called Uncle Ray. Uncle Ray came home from the bar and when he tried to talk to Pernell, Pernell’s speech had come out garbled and confused. Uncle Ray called for an ambulance. Pernell’s blood pressure? Through the roof. When he reached the hospital the doctors diagnosed a cerebral hemorrhage.

  In a daze, Tracey exited the hospital room where Pernell lay sleeping. She paced the hallway, grateful for her daughter’s chattering company.

  “Is Pop-pop gonna be okay?” Brianna asked, clutching her stuffed Hello Kitty doll to her chest.

  Tracey picked at her cuticles. “Pray for Pop-pop, honey. Just pray for him.”

  Brianna nodded. “I prayed already. He’ll be fine.”

  Tracey offered a weak smile. “Keep on praying, sweetie. Keep on.”

  Uncle Ray and Jamal had gone for something to eat, and Alice and Miss Lottie had gone outside to smoke by the time Dr. Srinivasa came to talk to Tracey.

  “His CT scan indicated intracranial pressure. A hemorrhage caused his brain to swell. We must relieve the pressure,” Dr. Srinivasa said.

  Tracey wrapped her arms around Brianna’s body. The warmth soothed her. “What happens now?”

  “We prepare him for surgery.”

  “Surgery?”

  “A decompressive craniectomy to relieve the brain swelling,” Dr. Srinivasa explained.

  Tracey lost her balance when two muscular arms reached around and pried clingy Brianna out of her arms. She turned around and looked up.

  Brian settled a hand on her shoulder. “The surgeon will cut a hole in your father’s skull and insert a drain tube to alleviate the swelling. Correct?”

  Dr. Srinivasa nodded at him. “Yes, that is correct. The team will insert tubes to allow for fluid drainage,” he continued. Then he turned to Brian. “Hello, and you are?”

  “Dr. Brian Jones, the patient’s son-in-law. Tracey’s husband.”

  “Good to meet you,” he said. “Now, time is important,” he told everyone. “We need to get started right away.”

  Tracey nodded, saying, “Certainly. Thank you.” She watched Dr. Srinivasa walk down the corridor to speak with two other doctors. She turned back to Brian. “You got my message?”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Yes. As soon as I saw it, I rushed over here.”

  “Thanks,” she sniffed. “I should have checked on him more. I should’ve gone over there more. For months, all I’ve been thinking about is you and me. I knew my dad wasn’t eating right. I knew he wasn’t following his doctor’s instructions to the letter. I knew all of that and I still ran off to New York.”

  “Stop, Tracey. The only person responsible for your dad’s life is your dad. We love him. We’ll take care of him.”

  “We need to pray for him.”

  Brian grasped Tracey’s hand and pulled her closer to his side. “Let’s pray. Father, you are our Lord and our God. We honor your name and your presence in our lives. Heavenly Father, we lift up Pernell Watson to you. He needs the power of your healing touch right now. We ask you, Lord, to guide the wisdom and actions of the doctors who will operate. We pray that you heal Pernell completely, minimizing all potential brain damage, and restoring him to full capacity so his healing will serve as a testimony to your greatness. We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Tracey echoed. She kept her fingers intertwined with husband’s. “Thank you.”

  “Daddy, I told Mommy Pop-pop would be fine,” Brianna announced, clinging to her father’s shoulders.

  “That’s good. Keep praying for him.” Brian squeezed her small body against his.

  Tracey looked at Brianna. “Baby, pray for your Mommy and Daddy too, okay?”

  “Are you sick?”

  Tracey squeezed Brian’s hand. “No, but we could sure could use God’s help in other ways.”

  32

  Breathe.

  Pernell survived his stroke and surgery.

  Breathe.

  Brian and Tracey? At home. No fights. No shattered glass.

  Breathe.

  The minute Tracey left the hospital with her family, she’d wanted to grab her phone, dial Monica and tell her about coming home and about her father’s stroke. But when she remembered her best friend’s harsh words about staying in Kyle’s house, Tracey changed her mind about calling. Eventually they would talk again, but at the moment she needed to keep breathing.

  The family could have stayed at the hospital longer, but there was no need. Pernell was resting and the hospital professionals monitored his vitals. The full extent of the stroke damage? Dr. Srinivasa would tell them after reviewing the tests. But her father lived! And something about his survival made Tracey hopeful. Like Pastor Downes told her months ago, as long as everyone was still alive, everything else could be worked out.

  “Trace?” Brian called out.

  “Yeah …”

  “What are you doing back here on the lawn? I was looking all over the house for you.”

  After she put Brianna in bed Tracey ran downstairs and over
to the back of the house. She’d stood outside the back door, unhooked her sandals, pulled off her t-shirt, dropped everything on the back porch and walked straight to the middle of the yard. Barefoot, in a camisole and faded jeans, she’d crashed down to the earth, looked up at the night sky, and dug her fingertips as far into the grass and dirt as she could get them, taking as much oxygen into her lungs as possible.

  “Come out here!” Tracey yelled back and closed her eyes.

  Her body shook when he dropped down on the grass next to her. She opened her eyes long enough to see him sitting with his legs outstretched, a few inches from where she lay prone. “Thank you for being at the hospital today,” she said.

  “Pernell is family. No matter what we are going through, I’m going to show up for family.”

  “I appreciate it. But you know you aren’t my favorite person anymore.”

  “No?”

  “And I’m probably not yours either.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “Yeah, well,” Tracey pushed her fingers through blades of grass. “I don’t have any more questions and I don’t have any solutions. My dad is alive. Our house is still standing. Praise God …” she trailed off.

  Wind whistled through the trees and replaced words for a while. Tracey felt the ground shake as Brian moved again. She opened her eyes to see him laying next her on the grass. “And I’m all cried out,” she told him.

  He sneezed, then replied, “Yeah? Me too.”

  “Really?”

  “Every night this week I’d get up out of bed and sit in the bathroom, put a towel on my face and cry like a baby,” he confessed.

  “You wanted me to come back that bad?”

  “Come on, you already knew that.”

  “Did you actually want me to come back? Or were you upset because I left?”

  “That’s the same thing.”

  “No it isn’t. If you were like, “Wow … how dare she leave me!” that’s pride, not longing. If you longed for me, then you missed me personally.”

  Quiet. Wind moving through the trees.

  “Brian?”

  “When you put it that way, I have to say both. Pride made me try to drag you out of Kyle’s place. But being in our house without you? A whole part of me slipped away and I didn’t know if I could get it back.”

  “And still I’m not your favorite person?”

  More silence. Then. “Did you make love with him?” Brian said, “For revenge.”

  The him was Kyle. Tracey didn’t have to ask.

  “No,” she said. No deception needed. “Is that all you care about?”

  He shifted closer to her. “Did you think about it?”

  “No.”

  “Did you touch him at all?”

  “Brian …”

  “Is that a yes, because if it is I want details right here and now. If you didn’t have sex, there’s a lot more you could have done. Kissing … feeling each other … tasting—”

  Tracey interrupted, “I get the point.”

  “Go on then.”

  Oh, the temptation! She pushed her fingers deeper in the earth and fought off a wicked urge to fill her husband’s mind with an elaborate tale of hot, sticky, passion-filled nights with her ex-man. Moments that brought her near the point of no return. Specifics that would keep Brian wide awake at night and troubled during the day wondering how much his wife liked it or loved it or couldn’t get enough of it and whether or not she was plotting to go back and finish what she’d started. Enough sweaty fine points to make him understand what he’d put her through by sexing Lisette.

  Brian and Lisette. Their affair had taught Tracey a great deal. Mostly that there were no winners. Only losers. And spinning a fake story to her husband, no matter how much she thought he deserved it, was unwise.

  Tracey sighed. “After Kyle’s birthday dinner last night, the one his friends threw for him at this fancy red restaurant, we all went upstairs to the lounge to listen to a jazz funk group. I needed to talk to him for a minute about Tyler, and I ended up dancing with him and … it turned into a slow dance with him. So I was in his arms and I felt …”

  “You felt what?”

  She paused. What term could she use? Not desire. Familiarity maybe? “I remembered what it was like to be with him.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It just…it felt good to hold him. He’s a man and he’s funny and strong and sexy and he smells like TOM FORD cologne.”

  “Maybe I don’t need to hear this. Since you like his cologne so much …”

  Tracey sat upright. “You wanted details so you hear me out. We danced. We talked. He was drunk and ticked off ’cause his lady stood him up for the night and I was ticked off at you and him and that was not a good mix—though some women would have used the moment to do some dirt or whatever. Me? I left the dude on the dance floor, packed my bag and brought my butt back here.” She lay back down on the ground and closed her eyes. Her heart thumped hard.

  Tracey felt Brian’s hand cover hers. She flipped her palm over and grasped his fingers.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I need you to believe me. Lisette’s baby is not my baby. That’s the truth.”

  Tracey winced and snatched her hand away. She ached to trust him. To grab him by the arm and dash upstairs with him and forget about everyone and everything else in the world. But she couldn’t. Too much had happened. Sure, right now they were together. On the lawn. Trying to talk things out. But pain still loomed over her like a specter. And she refused to step into the role of naïve fool again.

  “DNA testing,” she said. “I need to know for sure.”

  “Of course.”

  “Please stay calm,” Brian said.

  “What makes you think I’m not calm?” she countered.

  “You’re grinding your teeth.”

  Tracey relaxed her jaw. “Why’d you do it, Brian. Why?”

  “Which ‘it’ are you—”

  “Sex with Lisette. I danced with Kyle and I felt something for him, I admit it. But now I know there’s a moment when you can either walk away in the middle of something like that, or you can go for broke. Me? I exited the dance floor. You? You went for broke. Why?”

  “She invited me up to her apartment. I went and you know the rest.” Brian said.

  “Uh-uh. You’re telling me what happened. I asked you why it happened.”

  He cleared his throat. “You sure you want to talk about this now?”

  “Why not? What else can happen to us at this point?” The words rushing out of Tracey’s mouth made her sound cool and brave. Like she could walk stark naked into a tsunami and come out unscathed. Inside? She shook like the ground underneath her was a volcano about to erupt.

  “Lisette and I, we developed a camaraderie. She was my main buddy every day. We talked all the time and she made me laugh I gave her a goofy nickname and she smiled every time I said it. She did silly stuff to make me laugh like texting me memes with pictures she’d taken of me with captions on them like, “Lighten Up Cliff Huxtable.” And she was kind. Once a week she brought Starbucks for the whole office and no one was allowed to pay her back. When we weren’t talking about her future med school plans, we joked around about music and books and movies and food. So when we had sex, at first it felt like I wasn’t doing anything wrong because I wasn’t deliberately trying to hurt anyone, especially you.”

  Tracey swallowed hard. She yanked her fingers from the ground and brought her hands up above her body, rubbing her fingertips together and letting the dirt rain down. “Sounds like you were having a great time, really,” she said.

  “Sweetie, I’m sorry. That’s all over and …”

  “I’m not being sarcastic. This conversation was long overdu
e. I’m glad you told me while my hands were in the dirt though.”

  “What?”

  “Something Ms. Celeste taught me this past week. No one can stay mad for long when their fingers are in dirt. Maybe it helped. Who knows? I’m not angry. And you can rest assured no amount of joking or Starbucks or fun conversations would make me want to jump in bed with Kyle. And since we are all into truth right now, I need you to know a few things.”

  “Okay.”

  “First, it is Not okay for you to cheat on me. Not ever. I won’t tolerate it. If we go through this again, I’m filing papers. Second, we don’t know everything. I don’t care who we talk to about our marriage, but we need to talk to someone. Let’s be wise going forward.”

  Brian reached out and pulled her hand to his again. “Absolutely.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  She let go of his hand, rolled her body over and climbed on top of him. “My name is Tracey and I’m your main buddy now.”

  33

  “Share the full story, not the CliffsNotes version,” Pastor Downes said.

  Two weeks after Tracey returned home, she and Brian sat side by side in Pastor Downes office at Rise. Brian had made the call to their pastor himself, asking for a listening ear and guidance.

  Brian talked first. The lies. The affair. More lies. Bribery. Coercion from Lisette. The pregnancy. The fight with Tracey. Trying to drag Tracey back home.

  Then Tracey spoke. Threatening to run over Lisette with the Volvo. Taking thousands of dollars out of their joint savings. Paying her mother’s bills and going on a shopping spree. Cutting Brian with their wedding crystal. Leaving her own home and family and ending up in New York with her son’s father’s family.

  Pastor Downes sat and listened as the sun rays of the late afternoon faded, bathing the office in a soft orange glow. He nodded from time to time, but otherwise, let them talk for a full hour. When they finished, he wiped his face with a handkerchief, took a long sip of water, and leaned back in his chair.

  “I will not counsel you two,” he finally said, frowning. “I’m disappointed. I’ve seen both of you mature here at Rise and frankly I’m shocked at your behavior. You know better. Both of you … you know better!”