Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for about the tenth time.

  All through the night, he has made sure I’m not hurting or uncomfortable and that I want to continue with every step we take.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  And I mean it. If he’ll just hold me every night like this for the rest of my life, I will be okay.

  ****

  I sleep a deep, dreamless sleep and wake up feeling I have slept for twelve full hours, instead of the actual four. My legs are tangled around Isaiah’s, and he’s watching me, holding his breath. I smile at him and sigh when I see the immediate relief wash over his face. He must have been worried about the emotions the morning light might bring. I move my head onto his chest and try to reassure him that I’m right where I want to be.

  We finally untangle ourselves from each other and decide we have to eat sometime. We take a long shower and get dressed, stopping to kiss each other again before we go out the door.

  Isaiah groans. “You keep kissing me like this, I won’t need any food ever again.”

  Suddenly I don’t want to share him with anyone, so I put my hand on his arm and say, “How about we drive through somewhere and bring it back here?”

  He nods and backs me against the wall, kissing me. “Sounds good to me.”

  Eventually we get in his car and drive through a McDonald’s, something we never get to eat at home. His hand is on my leg while he drives and when we stop to place our order, we can’t take our eyes off of each other. We order and as soon as we get our food, we head back to the room and spend the rest of the day and night intoxicated with each other. Every minute with him heals me.

  ****

  The next morning, we walk to Shoney’s. I’m starving and have a hankerin’ for their pancakes. I smile brightly at Joann when I see her. “I was just missing it over here.” I shrug, thinking she will laugh.

  She doesn’t say anything, but seats us near the back of the restaurant. I don’t think much of it, just that she must not be in a great mood. When I see her walk over to the waitresses and say something and then they all look over at us, I get an uneasy feeling.

  We sit in the booth, memories of the time in our room making us shy with one another in the daylight. I think surely there must be a sign blinking over my head, letting the world know that I’ve been misbehaving for two days straight.

  Isaiah smiles over at me. “You look like you have a secret,” he whispers.

  “It’s a good one,” I whisper back with a huge smile.

  I didn’t know I could feel this lighthearted. Hope is crawling its way back into my guts.

  My stomach is rumbling, and Isaiah’s is too. A half hour passes and still no one comes to take our order. I see several opportunities when Joann seems free, but she doesn’t come. Isaiah doesn’t complain, but I can tell he’s noticing the stares. My joy is beginning to fade as I realize none of them want to come wait on us.

  A tall man with a burly beard that I hadn’t even noticed walks up to our table. He stands over us, glowering. “I don’t know where you two are from, but around these parts we don’t do this.” He wags his finger back and forth between Isaiah and me. He leans down and gets in Isaiah’s face. “You need to get out of here, boy…before I show you what we do to niggers like you who think they’re white.” He walks over to the booth across from us and stares us down. I guess he thinks he’ll do that until we get out of here.

  I start shaking and Isaiah holds onto my hand tight. Joann comes to our table then and quietly says, “You’re making some people uncomfortable in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Sorry, Caroline.”

  I’m in such shock that I don’t even say anything back. I wish I had. I wish I’d told both of them to stick it where the sun and moon and stars and comets and everything else…don’t shine.

  I stand up and hold my hand out. Isaiah takes it and we walk out. Our mood subdued, we walk hand in hand to the edge of the street and wait until there’s a chance to cross it. The guy in the car takes a double look at us and begins yelling awful things out the window. Isaiah grips my hand harder, and we cross the street in a hurry. We make sure no one is watching as we enter the room and close the door, locking it behind us.

  “This is crazy.” Isaiah walks to the window and peeks out. “I’ve gotta get you out of here. Let’s go to California. Things are different there.”

  “How would we get there? We have to work to get enough money for that. I’m gonna have to get a new job now. And what about Sadie? You can’t leave her in Tulma. That would devastate her.”

  “She knows I’m not happy without you. We’ll get there. Let me worry about the details.”

  Shaken and upset that the whole air in the room has shifted once again to turmoil, I sit on the bed and feel exhausted. Isaiah comes and sits on the bed beside me. He takes my hand in his. “We’re hungry. I’m gonna go get you something to eat. I saw a Popeye’s just a street over.”

  I nod.

  He kisses me and says, “I love you, Caroline Carson.”

  “I love you, Isaiah Washington.”

  He grins. “That’s enough for me,” he says as he walks out the door.

  Chapter 17

  Ancient

  He’s gone for a minute and I start piling my clothes into the suitcase and hurriedly write a note.

  Dear Isaiah,

  I love you. Never question that.

  The last two days are something I’ll never ever forget. I’m so grateful to you for showing me what love really is. You’ve always had my heart and you always will. Always.

  I can’t do this to you. I can’t, Isaiah. It will ruin your life to be with me. I love you too much to let that happen. Go home. Be happy. Find someone that you’re meant to be with…I know it will happen. You have too much love in you to not make someone so happy. It can’t be me. Deep down, I know you realize this is true.

  Please don’t look for me.

  Love,

  Caroline

  I practically run to the car and pull out of the parking lot, tears running down my face and neck. I don’t even think about where I’m going, I just drive and drive and drive and don’t stop until I have to get gas. It’s a good thing there’s hardly anyone else on the road. I couldn’t say if I swerve or not. I’m just moving forward. I try not to think about how Isaiah felt when he realized I left. I try to only think about how much happier his life will be without all the sorrow that I’ve brought into it.

  I go through Nashville and find myself in Kentucky. Spotting a motel ahead, I pull off the road. There’s a young girl in the office and I ask if there’s an available room. She studies my face and takes in the splotches, puffy eyes, and red nose, and quickly hands me a key. She catches herself staring and smiles sweetly at me and says in a slow, thick drawl, “We serve a little breakfast from 6-9. Come on back here and we’ll fix up your day.”

  I nod and head out the door, quickly pulling up to my room. My bag is heavier than a hundred-pound barbell. I close the door and lock it behind me. I go to the bathroom and crawl into the bed. I am ancient.

  I look at the clock. It has been an eternity since last night when I was thinking the world had turned right side up with Isaiah.

  My bones are tired. Aching. It’s taking over, suffocating me. My body is slowly atrophying from every injustice it has suffered. Every grief, crippling. The pleasure from the last two days plays topsy-turvy in my mind, and it doubles me over that I will never see Isaiah again. I’ve lived a thousand deaths and can’t live through another one.

  Please, God, don’t let me live through another one.

  ****

  It’s morning before I fall asleep. I hear a faint knock on the door and someone saying, “Housekeeping” but I can’t shake the sleep enough to answer the door. They knock a few raps more and then go on their way.

  When I wake again, it’s dark outside. I doze back off and it’s morning again the next time I’m awake. I want to go back to sleep and never wake u
p, but I’m too hungry. My stomach is so empty, it turns over and I think I might be sick. I shower and decide to see if I can still get breakfast from the motel.

  The girl lights up when she sees me walk in. “Hello! I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay. Would you like some breakfast?”

  She leads me into the side room and there’s a small kitchen with a bar and stools. I sit down on one of the stools and watch her work. She’s so happy to have a guest that she chats the entire time she prepares the food.

  “How long are you in town?” She uncovers a pan that has rising biscuit dough.

  “I’m not really sure.” I watch as she places the biscuits in the oven and stirs the sausage gravy on the stove.

  “Oh well, where are you headed?”

  “I’m not sure of that either.”

  “Oh…” Unsure of where to go next with this one-sided conversation, she doesn’t let that stop her for long.

  A few minutes later, she pipes up, “Well, Bardstown is a very nice place to live. It’s beautiful here. We just need a few more young people.”

  She laughs and her eyes disappear. She cracks two eggs into a frying pan and I watch the bacon grease sizzle around the eggs.

  I wonder how old she is. She looks young—my age, maybe even younger. It’s hard to tell though, if she might just be trying hard to look older. She’s petite and has her blonde hair sitting on top of her head. Her nails are painted red and she has blue eye shadow piled on thick.

  I decide to jump in since she’s trying so hard. And I’m curious. “Have you always lived here?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I was born and bred right here. My family opened this motel twenty-five years ago and we’ve grown up running this place. Wantin’ to turn it into apartments to have something steadier, but…we’ll see. My sister ran off to Louisville a year ago and I’ve been working in here full time since then.” Her voice softens and she reaches across the counter and hands me a plate of eggs and biscuits and gravy. “My dad passed away five years ago and my mama hasn’t been well for a while now.”

  She turns around and begins filling the sink with soapy water.

  “This looks delicious, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome! I love it when we have someone staying here. It gets lonely sometimes. Sure don’t see girls your age around here very often.”

  I take a bite of biscuit and it’s just right. “Mmm…so good.”

  “I’m glad you like it. My mama is the best cook this side of Kentucky. She wouldn’t let me do it any way but good.” She pauses a minute. “So where are you from?”

  I hesitate before answering. “A really small town in Tennessee—Tulma?”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Never heard of it, but that don’t mean much. I don’t get out any.”

  I blink back the tears that threaten to start. The lump in my throat grows with her simple kindness. I concentrate on the food and try to swallow the ache away.

  “Sure would be nice if you’d stay a while,” she says shyly.

  Before I have a chance to think about it, the words are coming out of me. “Well, I think I might. You don’t know of any work available around here, do you?”

  Her ears move up, she smiles so big. “I sure do. Just yesterday, Shelby, from across the street,” she points out the window and I turn around to see a small restaurant, “tried to convince me to come cook for her. I told her I had my hands full running this place, but she’s been runnin’ all over hell’s half-acre.”

  I smile at the expression. Nellie used to say that.

  “Shelby stays busy, a lot busier than us.” She bites her lip as she finishes the last swipe of the counter and pauses before setting the rag down. “And I’d be willin’ to give you a good deal on a little bigger room that you could stay in as long as you needed.”

  I think about this and nod my head. “Thank you. I think I’ll go over and talk to her in a little while and then I’ll let you know if I’ll need that room. Shelby, you said?”

  “Yes. Tell her Brenda sent you.” She smiles then and holds out her hand. “I’m Brenda, nice to meet you.”

  “Caroline. It’s nice to meet you too.” We shake on it.

  ****

  I start working at Shelby’s the next week and my days fall into a routine that isn’t too different from Harriet’s, except now I’m doing a lot of the cooking, as well as waitressing. Fortunately, I spent so much time watching Ruby as she cooked for me, I’m able to catch on to the cooking quickly. She’d be proud.

  Brenda and I have gotten surprisingly close in the short amount of time I’ve been here. I did change to a larger room that has a kitchen, but I’m hardly ever in there. I eat with Brenda or at the restaurant and stay busy until I fall into bed at night.

  She knocks on my door one night before I go to bed and when I open the door, she has a bag. I let her in and take the bag—it looks almost as big as her—and is as heavy as all get out.

  “Whatcha got in here?” I ask and look down in the bag. There are tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and peppers filled to the brim.

  “I thought you might like some fresh vegetables. Picked a bunch from the garden today and have so much, I don’t know what to do with it all.” Brenda stretches and grins. The girl is always happy.

  “Thank you. I’d love it. My grandma puts cucumbers, onions and peppers in vinegar and eats it with everything. I’ve been missing that. I’ll get some vinegar and make it tomorrow.”

  “Good! I hoped you could find a use for it all.” Brenda plops down on one of the two chairs in the room. “Wanna watch something on TV?”

  “Sure.” I turn it on and sit in the other chair.

  The Waltons’ theme song is just starting and Brenda sits up taller.

  “I love this show. John Boy is so cute!”

  I smile and keep my thoughts to myself. He doesn’t do a thing for me. I like that he’s a writer, but that’s about it.

  We get lost in the show. It’s a nice break to see how problems are resolved in less than an hour. I wish real life were so simple. I think Brenda probably wishes the same thing.

  “How old are you, Brenda?”

  “I’m eighteen. How old are you?”

  I’m caught by surprise—she looks way younger.

  I hesitate before answering. Should I tell her the truth? “I’m fifteen.”

  The shock sets in before she can hide it.

  “Fifteen?” she sputters. “But you look so much older! What are you doing on your own?” Her face flushes and she looks more serious than I’ve seen her yet. “Caroline, are you a runaway?”

  “Well, not exactly. It’s kinda complicated, I guess.”

  She looks so concerned and interested that I can’t help it—I start talking, and once I start, I can’t stop. I tell her everything. I figure I must need to get it out to someone, but when I finish, I’m embarrassed beyond belief.

  Brenda sits quietly when I’m done. She’s cried, held my hand, curled up into her chair with her hands on her knees—I thought I might see judgment in her eyes when I told her about Isaiah. And waited for it again, when I told her about Leroy and Les. But it never comes.

  She clears her throat and leans forward to take my hand in hers. “Thanks for tellin’ me your story, Caroline. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone as brave as you. If my mama ever…well, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been alone the way you have. I’m just glad God saw fit to lead you here. I don’t never get to church like I ought to, but I know the Lord understands. He knew that we needed each other.” Tears roll down her cheeks and the tears start rolling down mine too.

  I hug her and when we’re wiping our faces a few minutes later, I say, “I’m a little confused about God right now, to tell you the truth. But there have been some people in my life that have seemed almost better than God has ever been to me. Or maybe if there is a God, he’s sent them my way. Sadie, Isaiah’s mother…Ruby and Miss Greener—good people who have been better to me than my own family. And now
you. I guess I have to believe someone might be watching out for me after all.”

  “Well, I needed you just as much. I’ve wished for a friend for such a long time.” She smiles and gives me another hug. “And I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  She stays until we’re both yawning and struggling to stay awake.

  “Well, I better get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning? You workin’ tomorrow?”

  “I have a later shift, so I’ll come see you at breakfast.”

  I watch her walk toward her apartment in the back of the motel. She gives me a wave and blinks the outside light a few times to let me know she’s in safely.

  When I go to bed, my heart feels just a little less empty.

  Chapter 18

  Isaiah

  The miles back to Tulma are endless. Driving to Memphis, I’d driven as fast as I could go, knowing the sooner I saw her, the sooner I’d be complete. I’d eavesdropped on Caroline’s mom when I saw that she was back in town and heard her tell one of the other tellers at the bank that she’d been to Memphis. I was glad that her plans must have changed about San Antonio, otherwise, I could have been searching for Caroline forever. I immediately went home and told Mama that I needed to go find her in Memphis. Caroline needed to know about Leroy and Les, and she needed to be back home. I would bring her back home and we’d be happy.

  I couldn’t believe it when I spotted their car in front of the motel. I looked inside and saw one of Caroline’s pencils—she likes to write in her journal with pink pencils—and knew I’d found her. I didn’t even have to wait long before I saw her crossing the street toward me.

  I’m still in shock that everything went so wrong. When Caroline left Tulma, I thought I’d die from the heartache. It was nothing compared to what I feel now.

  Now I think I really won’t ever see her again and the thought fills me with such panic and despair, I briefly consider driving off a bridge somewhere and ending my misery. The thought that I just have to find her again spurs me on. I can’t give up.

  The nights we spent together were better than anything I could have imagined. Her silky skin, her beautiful hair, her mouth. Her love staring back at me. God, I love her more than life. She is my life. I don’t think I can live without her. The lump in my throat feels permanently lodged, choking the life right out of me.