If I Break

by Portia Moore

  When I transferred to school in Chicago my sophomore year it was like the men there could smell fresh meat. I was asked out by so many different types of guys especially when I started working at the club. There were some with tattoos and piercings, others who wore expensive suits and glasses, black, white, tall short, it was so much to take in.

  Thankfully I had Angela and Hillary to guide me through the dating scene which got old really quick. I started to miss the familiarity that Saginaw had. I ended up only kind of dating Steven who is now a really good friend and Michael who turned out to be the exact guy I should have been avoiding, good looking, closeted douche bag. Other than him being attractive I think it was just familiarity of working around him that caused me to convince myself there was something there that wasn’t. It was always something missing, and whatever it was Cal had more than enough of it. He always has had this way of exuding this sexy confidence without appearing conceited, a way of making mundane things seem exciting and new, so Cal has been my gift and my curse. Curse more often than gift, I suppose. When we first met I couldn’t have known I was only scratching the surface of the mystery of Cal, an enigma in him self. Unfortunately one I still haven’t solved.

  I always pictured him being the man I wanted him to be, and yet now I wonder is it fair he’s not my expectation of the husband that I thought he’d be? I assumed after marriage he’d open up, let me know the secrets that were hidden behind his smile; that I’d understand why when we’re alone his presence is peaceful but why I look into his eyes I see something completely different. I thought I would get answers to all of these questions when we married, but it only seems that I’m getting more questions.

  I arrive at my aunt’s house and memories instantly start to flood in. I remember Raven walking out onto the porch, successfully ruining the goodnight kiss at the end of my first date. She cleared her throat and stared at me until all I could do is kiss him on the cheek and say, “Good night.”

  I smile now, but in that moment I was angry and embarrassed. She was both sweet and sour. She had to play mom and dad to me growing up, a woman who never wanted kids, but did a better job than she could have imagined. She always made sure to let me know how much my parents loved me and how proud they’d be of me.

  Raven never married so I’ve never felt comfortable asking for advice about my own marriage. I often wonder what advice my mother would give about Cal and I. My dad would probably wring his neck for the stress he gives me. I turn off the car, and grab my purse, stepping out and heading towards the porch. I leave the suitcase because I really don’t feel like getting the third degree at the moment. I’ll find a way to slip it in later on during a conversation. I’m sure I’ll get an opening. “Lauren, I found the most wonderful sweater,” she’ll tell me, and then I’ll say, “Oh really, because I have a ton of sweaters in the car, since I’m leaving my husband.” Yep it’ll be really simple, really quick. I ring the doorbell and check my appearance in the reflection of the window, making sure I look presentable. Raven always stresses that if the day is bad, you have to dress better to hide it.

  I ring the doorbell again, this time adding a knock. I still have a spare set of keys, but I don’t want to intrude. It doesn’t seem like she’s home. I take a seat on the top step of the porch. She’s probably gone shopping, hopefully not for clothes because that could take hours. I’m really regretting that little fit of rage that sent my phone over the balcony railing this morning. I look at my watch, realizing it’s only one o’clock. Raven could be out all day.

  I decide to go ahead and let myself in rather than waiting on the front porch like a FedEx package. I find the spare set of keys at the bottom of my purse and open the door. As I step inside, the radio is on, and I can’t help but smile. Ever since I can remember, 91.3 has always been Raven’s favorite radio station, and it plays a constant soundtrack in the house. I lock the door behind me and set my purse on the table. This place still brings me comfort—a real home rather than just a place of residency, which is how I feel when I’m alone at the penthouse. I walk upstairs and find the doorway to my old bedroom. Another smile spreads across my face as I walk into the room, still the same way I left it. I sit on the bed and breathe deep as I face the window and let the sunshine wash over me through the curtains. On my dresser sits awards, ribbons, and medals aligned in the same place they were when I was in high school.

  There is one new addition, though. My eyes glide over to my wedding photo with Cal, and I feel a sense of jealousy towards my past self. The couple in the picture no longer exists; they are light years from where Cal and I are now. I pick it up, and turn it downward. If only I could see into the future. A door shuts downstairs; Raven must be home. I give myself a little pep talk: I can do this; just don’t let anything slip. I take a deep breath and walk out of the room. From the top of the stairs, I can see Raven setting down her bags. I knew she’d been shopping. She looks up at me, a huge smile spreading over her face.

  “Lauren! I thought that was your car!” she squeals, dropping it all on the floor.

  “Hi, Raven,” I say cheerfully, running down the stairs. She meets me at the bottom and wraps me into a big hug.

  “It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you so much!” she says, squeezing me tightly.

  “I’ve missed you too.” I tell her honestly, letting her scent take me back to my childhood, when any problem I had could be solved with a piece of chocolate cake, albeit from the store, since Raven couldn’t bake a piece of bread if her life depended on it. She steps back, scrutinizing my appearance.

  “You look beautiful; I love the sweater,” she says, gliding her hand across my shoulder. Raven, as always, fashionably inclined and I often wonder what would have happened if she had grown up in a big city. I’m sure she wouldn’t have ended up a librarian. “So what brings you here? How long are you staying? And where is that handsome nephew of mine?” she smiles.

  Okay Lauren, let’s start thinking. Think, think; say something; keep smiling. Unfortunately, all I’m doing is smiling because I can’t think of a word to say. I really need to start planning ahead.

  She frowns at me and brushes her scarlet bangs out of her face.

  “Uh huh. How about you help me take these in the kitchen and tell me all about it?” she says, grabbing two bags herself and leaving the room. I pick up three bags and follow behind. I need to think of something; I’m definitely not ready to tell her that I’ve left my husband. I walk into the brightly lit kitchen and set the groceries on the table. Being here reminds me how gloomy Chicago is sometimes. Even though she doesn’t cook, she makes sure to have all her favorite snacks and plenty of fruits and vegetables in the refrigerator. She starts to unpack bags and put groceries away, but I can tell her full attention is on me.

  “So, how is everything?” she asks casually.

  “Everything is good,” I nod, pulling a carton of milk from the bag.

  “You didn’t call me this week.”

  “I know. I um, I wanted to surprise you,” I smile, hoping that doesn’t sound like a lie.

  “You did! When I saw that Mercedes parked in the driveway, I couldn’t believe my eyes! So, again how long do I have you guys?” she asks as if she’s a hotel desk clerk.

  “Oh, well, I was thinking I’d stay a week or two,” I tell her, busying myself taking out a bottle of juice and avoiding her eyes.

  “You are?” she asks surprised.

  “Yeah, well, if that’s okay with you,” I say hesitantly.

  “Of course it is, honey. I love your company and you know that you’re always welcome here; it’s just...two weeks is quite a long time. Is Cal here?” she inquires.

  Here’s my chance; just tell her; just say it!

  “N-no, um that’s actually why I’m here,” I say meekly. She stops going through the bag and gives me her full attention; her look is intimidating.

  “What’s wrong?” she says, raising her voice slightly.

  “Oh, nothing’s wrong. It�
��s just that Cal’s gone on another business trip, and the penthouse gets lonely at night. I thought, I haven’t seen you in a while,” I laugh slightly. God why didn’t I just tell her? I missed the perfect opportunity, now this whole time I’m going to be on pins and needles and have to remember my own lies.

  “Oh,” she looks at me skeptically, the look quickly replaced by a smile. “Well, I’m really glad you’re here,” she says, giving me another hug. “How about I finish up here, you go to your room and get settled, and I’ll order us some lunch?”

  “That’d be great,” I smile as I get up from the table. “You sure you don’t want any help?” I ask again.

  “No, I’m fine. Go get settled,” she insists.

  I walk out of the kitchen and head for my car. I hate lying to my aunt, or lying in general, but if I told her why I was really here… I open up the trunk and heave my big suitcase out, setting it on the ground with a plop. As I roll it up the walkway towards the house, I notice Raven standing at the door with a huge smile plastered on her face and the phone close to her ear.

  Please tell me she’s not talking to who I think she’s talking to.

  “Lauren honey, Cal’s on the phone!” she calls. My heart stops for a minute. She loves that man so much, I swear, if he weren’t my husband and he was just a little bit older, I know she’d be on him like a Chanel bag in the clearance section, if there is such a thing.

  “I’m kind of in the middle of something,” I call to her as sweetly as I can, squashing my annoyance and anger as I head back over to the car, trying to look busy shuffling through my bags.

  “Lauren Brooks! Get over here right this minute, you can bring your bags in later,” she says in a calm but forceful tone. I feel my shoulders drop to the largest obtuse angle as I slowly walk up to the porch, a small pout on my face. I remember I’m supposed to pretend I’m happy. I take the phone from her and toss her a huge smile.

  “I’m going to take this in the house,” I tell her.

  “Sure,” she tells me. I walk into the dining room and close the door behind me. I take a huge breath and bring the phone to my ear.

  “I knew you were going to be at Raven’s,” he says, before I even let him know I’m there. How wonderful of you, I think to myself and roll my eyes.

  “You’re not talking to me?” he asks. I sigh in disbelief. He still thinks I’m “not talking to him.” I’ve left him, and he’s shrugging it off as a temper tantrum. Obviously, he doesn’t get it.

  “Two calls. It must be my lucky day,” I mumble sarcastically, pacing the room.

  “I know. I was wrong,” he says.

  “You really mean that? Or are you just saying what you think I want to hear?”

  “I mean what I say.” He sounds offended.

  “Cal, I’m tired of doing this with you,” I sigh.

  “Well, what do you want me to say?” he asks defensively.

  What do I want him to say? What the fuck do I want him to say? I want him to say he’s sorry for everything, sorry that he’s played with my emotions, sorry that he’s such an ass, that he leaves me alone at home for days without a single phone call, sorry that he’s made me into a person I don’t even recognize, that he’s eroded my self-confidence, sorry that he exists in my life!

  I don’t hear anything except silence on the other end. Oops, I must have said all that out loud.

  ***

  I’ve been sitting here in my old bedroom in silence for twenty minutes, waiting for him to call me back. I shouldn’t be waiting for him. I should be happy that he’s not attempting to call me back. I brush my fingers through my hair and sigh. I hear a soft knock on the door.

  “Honey, is everything okay?” Raven asks quietly walking into the room.

  “Yeah, everything's fine,” I say to her, forcing another smile.

  She opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something, but then she smiles and changes the subject. “I completely forgot I told Mrs. Ingram that I’d have lunch with her today, before I knew you were coming. Would you like to join us, she’d love to see you?” she asks.

  “No, it’s okay. I think I’m just going to stay here and think some things though. Tell her I said hi.”

  “Ok, if you need anything just call my cell,” she tells me as if I’m a 12-year-old again.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assure her.

  “I’ll see you later honey,” she says shutting the door. I suddenly feel exhausted. I start stripping the big quilt and colorful sheets off the bed, replacing them with some sheets I brought from home. After I’m done, I look around the room, taking a deep breath. This place will take some getting used to again. I crawl into the bed, hugging the pillow as if it were a stuffed animal.

  May 9th 2008

  “I went to University Of Illinois for two years before I transferred to Indiana State, where I played football. Believe it or not, I originally majored in criminology. It’s funny how I jumped from criminology to journalism because they’re so different from each other. Initially, I only took it in high school because of this girl I had a crush on. Then I changed it because criminology was getting too complicated. I thought it was the best thing I ever did in my life. So when I graduated, I moved back to Chicago. My dad helped me get a job at The Tribune where my boss assigned me the Entertainment section. Who the hell reads that? But anyway, the point is…” Jason can’t shut up.

  I continue to nod and smile, pretending to be interested in what he’s saying. He’s been going on like this for twenty minutes; he hasn’t asked a single question about me except what I wanted to order. He then tells me that the dish he’s having is better and I should order that. I glance at my watch for the third time. I’ve never been this bored in my life. I don’t know if he’s nervous, and he’s just rambling on to cover it up, or if he’s really that self-absorbed. He seemed so different back at the club. Looks can sure be deceiving.

  I take a sip of my water. The ice has melted. Looking around, I admire how elegant the restaurant is. The piano is playing softly in the background. I could really enjoy this atmosphere—if Jason would just be quiet for a minute.

  “I remember my first piece for journalism 101. It was on a Dean sleeping with a student. I had a lot of fun with that, even though it only received a C. My professor always told me I could do better, and on my last paper I finally had an A,” he continues.

  “So what about you?” he finally asks.

  I almost choke on my water; the opportunity to talk is unexpected—I thought he’d at least give me a rundown of every article he’d ever written before he asked me a question.

  “Well, I attend Chicago University. I’m majoring in English and minoring in art history,” I tell him.

  “The art world is a hard world to break into,” he tells me, as if I don’t know.

  “That’s why I’m majoring in English,” I tell him, a little annoyed.

  “So what kind of work do you do?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you’re an Art History Major but do you do any art work?” he asks absentmindedly while signaling the waiter.

  I just told him art history was my minor, but, whatever. Close enough.

  “Well, some painting and sculpting, but my passion is drawing,” I tell him.

  “Yes, can you get our check?” he asks the approaching waiter, who nods and walks away. He turns back to me. “I’m sorry… you were saying?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not important.” It’s not like he was paying any attention anyway.

  “Have you heard about the museum’s anniversary gala?” he asks. Has he already forgotten the art history thing?

  “Yes. I have,” I tell him, trying not to sound sarcastic.

  “You would probably have a wonderful time there. It’s too bad you can’t get tickets. The Tribune only received three. I was lucky enough to get one of the press passes, since it will be the entertainment event of the season,” he boasts.

  Should I tell him I’m g
oing or should I not? Hmmm.

  “I’ll be sure to have a full report on it for you,” he smiles. I decide not to tell him. I will keep smiling, and maybe he’ll get the hint. My phone begins to vibrate in my purse. I take it out and see it’s Hillary. Oh, I love you Hillary!

  “Excuse me for a minute,” I tell him, walking to the front entrance. “I’ve never been so happy to hear from you,” I say gratefully into the phone.

  “I take it your date sucks?” she asks excitedly.

  “Other than the food, yes. I’ll be home in an hour. Jason is probably the most self-absorbed person I’ve ever met. The whole conversation tonight was all about him. I probably got three sentences in,” I tell her.

  “Aw, you poor thing!” she states. “Well, you can’t strike gold twice.”

  I smile, thinking about my date with Cal, which makes this seem like an appointment with a dentist.

  “So, does he have anything else planned after dinner?” she asks.

  “I don’t know, but I can’t take any more of this.”

  “Remember the guy I met at the party you didn’t want to go last week to Jinere, or Johnae I'll never be able to say it right. Anyway something foreign and he’s ridiculously hot. I’m making him dinner and he may stay over for desert...” she warns with a hint of excitement in her voice.

  “Have fun Hillary,” I say. At least one of us will be having a good time tonight.

  “Want me to wait up for you?”