Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  He just walks around me and heads out to the porch.

  “Paris help Finn clean up his mess, please. I’ll be right back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I head out to the porch and find Adrian with his head down between his shoulders and his arms braced on the porch rail. I look out over the yard and see Mrs. Jones tending to her flowerbeds, so I give her a small wave. She’s super nosey, so I’m glad I’ve noticed her.

  Adrian hears me and turns around and folds his arms over his chest. Leaning back against the rail, he looks calmer. “I lost my temper.”

  “Yes, you did. I’m worried about you. Two years you’ve been helping me raise these boys and I’ve never seen you get angry with them. Frustrated? Yes. Angry? No.”

  “Cel, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know where that came from.”

  Taking pity on him, I cross over and wrap my arms around him, laying my head on his chest. “It’s a little different now, going from being their cousin to their father. It’s going to take some adjustments on all our parts. And really what you said to him was perfectly acceptable. I just take exception with how you said it is all.”

  “My dad used to cuss us out and overreact and I hated it. Used to cause me to walk around on eggshells. That’s what I’ve always loved about being here. Everyone always feels so…comfortable. I fucked that right up.”

  I can’t help but laugh. He sounds so pathetic. It’s adorable. “Adrian, we’re bound to have some growing pains. It was one incident. And Archer’s been a little turd lately. We’ll work it out. He had big plans to stay the night with Taylor this weekend. I’m saying that we take that away since he’s usually so good and talk to him, of course. He’s really only made his snide comments these last few days. Show him we mean business but don’t go overboard. What do you think?”

  “I think whatever you think. With this little smart butt exception, you’ve managed to raise some amazing kids. God, I hope Archer’s not too mad at me,” he says as he rubs his hands over his face.

  I smile at him. “Thank you. Archer’s an understanding young man, and he adores you. We’ll work this out. I will say that I’m glad you’re going out with the guys this weekend. You need to blow off some steam.”

  He leans and gives me a little kiss. “Thank you, babe. I love you. I’m sorry about that.”

  “I love you too. Let’s go talk to Archer.”

  ****

  THE REST OF the week runs pretty smoothly. We’re all in planning mode. The boys are planning for their spring vacation, and I’m planning our little reception, and Adrian’s getting back into his music. We settle into a routine, and even though Adrian is quiet, he seems much better.

  Tonight, it’s boys’ night out and girls’ night in. Bonnie and Farah have come over and the guys have taken Adrian out. I’m pretty sure I heard “bar crawl” floating around.

  The girls pop in Bridget Jones’s Diary while I make margaritas. The little boys play Guitar Hero in the back.

  I start to pour a third and remember Farah doesn’t always partake. “Farah, do you want a margarita, honey?”

  “No, thanks,” she calls casually, “I’m having a baby.”

  I slam down my margarita pitcher, sloshing margarita everywhere. Whoops! Rushing into the living room, I see Bonnie already all over her. I shake my head at her. “Thanks, what a way to tell me.” I join in on the hugging and the tears and the talking to the baby who’s probably the size of a pea right now.

  Two down, one to go. Farah and I were both on top of the world. Now we just needed to get Bonnie there.

  Twenty-Three

  Protect At All Costs

  MY PHONE WAKES me up from a dead sleep. Margaritas have that brain-numbing effect. Grabbing for my phone, I simultaneously put my glasses on and blink at the time and the caller before answering. “Louis? It’s three o’clock in the morning.” Looking over my shoulder, I register no Adrian.

  “Cel, don’t freak out, OK?”

  “Now I’m freaking out,” I say. “What’s going on?”

  He blows out a deep breath. “Adrian’s been arrested and is being held for twenty-four hours. But he’s OK.”

  “What was he arrested for?” Other than a noise violation, I don’t think he’s ever been in trouble with the law before and that was back in college.

  Another deep breath released. “Public intoxication, public disturbance, simple assault and destruction of city property.”

  “Excuse me? Adrian doesn’t get drunk.”

  “I know. I was pretty surprised myself. I would have told him to lay off, but it happened pretty quickly and probably because he doesn’t drink very often.”

  “What happened?” I want to cry. I don’t understand this at all. I know it’s not the end of the world, but this isn’t like him at all.

  “We were at a club and some guy got violent with his girlfriend. Adrian intervened. The guy got mouthy with him, got in his face. Adrian warned him. Guy didn’t stop. Adrian punched him. Once. That’s all it took.”

  “Oh my God. What about the other stuff?”

  “Well, that’s where it got bad. The one punch we probably could’ve gotten him out of pretty easily, but when the cops got there, Adrian got pissed off because they were jackasses. So he started throwing some insults. They, uh, arrested him. Once they had him in the back of the cop car, the arresting officer kept being an asshole. Just taunting him, you know?”

  “And?”

  “Adrian kicked out the back window of their car.”

  I gasp. “What? Like the side window? Don’t those usually have a cage on them?”

  “Not the side window. The big back window. And, yes, there was a cage. That didn’t seem to matter to your pissed off Marine.”

  “Louis, that’s just not like him at all. He’s been acting strange since he got back. Quiet, moody, and he was even short-tempered. I mean, he’s an intense guy, yes. But this is different.”

  “Yep, I noticed something off as well. I just chalked it up to stress and exhaustion.”

  I run my hand through my hair, offering up a silent prayer on how to help my husband. “When can I pick him up? Do I have to bail him out or what?”

  “Umm…he told me that I’m to pick him up. He doesn’t want you involved.”

  “He doesn’t want me involved?” I squeak out disbelievingly.

  “Yeah, Cel, I think he’s ashamed and doesn’t want to hurt you.”

  I wipe at my eyes. The tears that are flowing cannot be stopped. My husband is hurting and doesn’t want my help. “He’s my husband. He hurts. I hurt,” I whisper.

  “I know, baby girl. Look, I’m going to get him tomorrow morning, take him to his apartment—”

  “Don’t you take him to his apartment, Louis. Bring him home to me.”

  “He asked that I bring him to his apartment. He said he’s no good for anyone right now.”

  ****

  SITTING ON ADRIAN’S couch, all I can do is replay those words, “He said he’s no good for anyone right now.” And every time I do, I just want to cry.

  I’ve been waiting here for over an hour. I’d looked around and noticed lots of pictures of the boys stuck here and there. I found his programs for the boys’ events on his coffee table. All signs of a wonderfully supportive person who needed me right now, but it sounds like I might have a fight on my hands. I know that Hebert pride, and it was a force to be reckoned with. I’ve got news for him, though, I’m an Hebert too.

  When I hear the key turn in the lock, my stomach turns right along with it. I’m a ball of nerves. I take a deep, calming breath and prepare myself. I tell myself to remain calm no matter what he throws at me.

  His eyes find mine right away—despair, anguish, fear. I tear up again. “Hi, baby.”

  “Celeste, what are you doing here, babe? I told Louis to tell you just to give me some time.” The jacket that he’s holding has all his attention.

  I swallow hard. He’s calm. I’d gotten a “
babe.” The message is still clear, though. Stay away. “Adrian, that’s not the way it works.” He sinks down onto the chair opposite me but doesn’t stop staring at his jacket. “You’re my husband. It’s my place to help you. Hell, it’s my desire to help you. Something’s going on. Is it this instant family you have?” His eyes finally fly up to meet mine. “Do you feel overwhelmed by us?”

  “God, no. That’s not it. Celeste, y’all are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Then what is it, Adrian? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going on. You didn’t hide your feelings from me when we were just friends, and now’s not the time to start.”

  He drapes his jacket over his chair and runs his hands over his face and over his head. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Getting up, he goes into the kitchen and I watch as he makes himself a glass of ice water. It’s a struggle not to pounce on him and drag this out of him and figure out how to help him. He drinks it and then pours another damn glass and drinks it. Finally, he sets the glass down and comes back into the living room.

  “Sorry. I was extremely thirsty.”

  “I bet. I heard you had a lot to drink last night. You’re probably dehydrated.”

  “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

  I shake my head no. I’m afraid if I try to speak that I’ll cry. He’s acting so cold, so distant, and so unlike my Adrian. He gives me a little smile and heads off to the bathroom.

  Kicking my shoes off, I get up from the couch and go to the bathroom once I hear the water running. I crack the door and stand there watching him. He’s so beautiful but looks so…pained. If this had been any other day, I’d pull my clothes off and climb in with him as quickly as I could. But this is not any other day. I’m afraid if I do, he’d push me away and that would crush me.

  I ease back out and go out to the kitchen, take out the leftovers from last night’s dinner that I’d brought with me, and heat them up for him. I’m sure he’s starved. I’m placing it on the bar as he rounds the corner.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” he tells me.

  “I know, but I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  He settles at the bar. “I am.”

  Before he can get started, I feel myself being propelled around the bar to pull his face to mine. “I love you, Adrian,” I whisper fiercely. “Whatever you are going through, I can help you. We can work it out together.” I kiss him, long and chaste. He’s not there. He’s not there! I sob and pull back. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t pull away from me like this. I can’t…I can’t take it. You’re breaking my heart,” I say, my voice cracking.

  He wraps his arms around me and buries his head on my chest, weeping. No! “Celeste, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying my damnedest not to hurt you. But I’m…I need space and time. I’m not safe enough for y’all to be around right now.”

  “Adrian, what does that even mean? I don’t understand.”

  Another sob. I run my hands over his head and down his neck, shushing him as I go. Leaning down, I kiss him over and over. I wish that my kisses held healing power and with each one, every sadness, every insecurity, every pain of his would dissipate, leaving behind the strong, compassionate man I’d come to know and love and cherish.

  Finally, he pulls back. I run my thumbs over his tears and lean down and kiss them away. “I’m going to be staying here for a while.” I shake my head at him. “Yes, Celeste, I don’t trust myself right now. I have all these thoughts going through my head, uncontrollable but controlling thoughts. I don’t even know how to explain them to you except to say that I don’t feel…stable. I feel on edge all the time. You don’t need someone like me around the boys right now. I need you to be smarter than that.”

  “We need you. We always need you. You make us whole. Do you understand me? Whatever you’re feeling or going through we can figure out together, not apart!”

  He stands up abruptly causing my hands to fall to my sides. Pacing back and forth, he says, “I don’t understand why the fuck you can’t go and leave me to myself. I’ve been very patient. But I’m about to lose it, Celeste. I need you to go.”

  “No, you need me to stay and help you figure this out, Adrian.” He’s on me in a second, bracing both his arms on the bar behind me and pinning me in.

  “I’m fucking broken,” he punches out. “Do you have any idea what that means?” I shake my head because I don’t. I don’t understand. “It means that when I look at you, I see blood and carnage and blank stares of women who’ve been raped and mutilated and killed.” I whimper. “Yeah, Celeste, pretty sick, huh? This is why I asked you to leave. But you want to talk, you want to listen, right? So listen to this. When I look at your boys, I see empty pits of despair and destruction. Do you understand now?” He’s barely an inch from my face, his face is crumpled like he’s in pain. Snatching my hand up, he taps the side of his head with it and tells me, “I’m not the same, but I don’t know what to do to fix it. The only thing I know to do is stay away from you and your children.”

  “Adrian—”

  “Leave, Celeste,” he roars at me. I duck from under his arm and grab my purse and shoes. My sobbing and his heavy breathing are the only sounds I hear. All I can think is that I’m making this worse.

  Heading for the door, I open my mouth to tell him I love him and I’ll see him soon. I’m not going away for long, but I’m afraid of what he’ll tell me in response. Pinching my lips together, I fight that instinct and close the door behind me.

  ****

  “AND HE SAID that he has uncontrollable thoughts and he’s been having flashbacks of the things he saw over there?”

  I adjust the phone on my shoulder and click around some more on my laptop. “Yes, I came home and looked it up on the Department of Veteran Affairs website. He has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Louis. I just know it.”

  “Doesn’t that usually develop over time, though? Like months or years later?”

  “No, it says here that every case is different. He’s displaying most of the symptoms. I didn’t realize that this week, but looking back, I definitely see them. He wasn’t sleeping right, he was quick-tempered, withdrawn, quiet, not eating right, the drinking. Add to that last night’s episode. I mean, what other proof do we need?”

  “Well, what did it say to do about it?”

  “He needs therapy and probably some kind of anti-psychotic or anti-depressant. But, I know Adrian; he’s not going to take any medicine. It’s a stretch to think he’ll talk to someone. He’s proud and stubborn and…” I break off in a sob.

  “Shh, Celeste. We’re gonna get him some help, OK?”

  “OK. I think I’m going to let him rest tonight and go see him first thing in the morning. He hasn’t slept, and I know that’s not helping matters. Lack of sleep doesn’t help with clear thinking. He’s been texting me back since I left, so he’s safe for now.”

  “Do you want me to go over there when I leave work?”

  “Would you, please?”

  “Of course, I’ll call you and let you know how he is.”

  “Thank you, Louis.”

  ****

  LAST NIGHT WAS the longest night of my life. All those nights of staying up and watching Tripp slowly slip from this world had been the worst experience of my life. Not anymore. Not knowing whether or not Adrian would harm himself—definitely the worst feeling ever. I don’t think for a second he’d harm himself intentionally. That’s not it. I’d worried that he would go out, trouble would ensue, and then a hundred different scenarios play out from there. Louis had gone over with dinner and hung out with him, so I know he was safe for a good part of the evening. Louis said he’d acted like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. That he’d just been quiet, not apologetic or ashamed. Just quiet.

  After dropping the boys off at school, I head over to Adrian’s with some breakfast and coffee. I’m terrified
of what I’m going to find. I know Adrian would never hurt me. I know he would never hurt himself. I’m more afraid of not being able to help him and of him running me off again. I’d been texting him off and on, and he’d been polite enough. Polite. My passionate man was being polite.

  I’d always known loving him was never going to be easy, and with my eyes wide open, I’d been prepared to face many battles to keep him for my own. But I never thought I’d have to fight my husband for his love. A crippling pain fills my soul as that realization sinks in. As if he can’t stand to be loved back by me, he has taken his love from me and is pushing me away. He’s punishing himself. And I know that’s what has brought this on—guilt and penance. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it, I steel myself to fight for my man. When I knock on his door, my heart is in my throat.

  As he opens the door, my breath leaves me in a swoosh because he just looks beautiful. I feel like we’ve been apart forever, not just one night, and he looks so good to me. “Hey, babe.”

  “Hi.” He opens the door and steps back to let me in. I want to hug him and kiss him, but I’m afraid of pushing. I pushed yesterday and that was no good. I walk past him and state the obvious, “I got coffee and bagels.”

  “Thank you. That sounds good.”

  “May I have a kiss?” I ask when he turns back to me.

  He gives me that half-smile. The one that doesn’t make the skin around his eyes crinkle. I despise that smile. I miss my smile. Walking over to me, he places the coffees and bagels on the counter, turns around, and takes me in his arms. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Celeste. Sorrier than you’ll ever know. I don’t know what came over me, which is the problem—I can’t seem to get a grip.”

  I smooth his t-shirt down over his shoulders. “I forgive you, Adrian. I only want to help you. And you know that. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, baby.”

  “I know that. Thank you,” he says again before kissing me lightly. “I missed you.”

  “Oh…I missed you so much,” I mutter against his lips before deepening the kiss. He moans against my mouth, and I know that we need to stop and handle this issue, but I want him. I can’t help but want him. Finally, I have the strength to pull back.