Breaking Free

by Jennifer Slattery

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped into soft, fuzzy slippers. Following the sound of the television, she found Tim and Danny lounging on the living room couch.

  “You fellas up for pancakes?”

  Focused on the television screen, they answered in the affirmative.

  She shuffled into the kitchen. “You two want to hitch a ride with me this morning?” She pulled eggs from the fridge, then rummaged through the cupboards for pancake mix.

  “We’re going with Alex,” Tim answered.

  Alice tossed an eggshell into the sink and poked her head around the corner. “I’m surprised you don’t want to drive.”

  “Don’t have any gas money, remember?”

  She grabbed her purse off the table and fished out her last 20-dollar bill. Good thing she’d made it to the ATM early, before Trent’s paycheck dwindled to nothing. He was up to something—had to be seeing someone. And she planned to figure out who.

  Then what? Leave him? Confront him and beg him to leave the other woman? Or avoid him entirely until she figured out a game plan?

  She returned to the living room and handed Tim the cash. He shoved it in his back pocket.

  She crossed her arms. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Bacon or sausage?”

  “Can we have both?” Danny, her human vacuum, gave a sheepish grin.

  She smiled. At least one of her boys didn’t hate her. “Absolutely.”

  His expression sobered as he glanced toward the hall. “You gonna wake up Dad?”

  Alice gazed down the hall, a lump lodging in her throat. Anger rode its tails, but she kept it hidden. “Your father’s got a lot going on today—with work.”

  Danny’s scowl deepened, and he glared at her. As if he blamed her for his father’s absenteeism. Or maybe for putting up with it, making them do the same. Tim grabbed the remote and flicked the channel.

  Fifteen minutes later, Alice placed a steaming plate of pancakes, a large platter of eggs, and a mound of meat in the center of the table. The boys devoured it all—every last crumb—within minutes, leaving a sink full of dishes in their wake. By the time she cleaned the kitchen, Alex had come and gone, taking her boys with him.

  After tidying the living room and starting a load of laundry, she headed to her bathroom to shower.

  By the time she arrived at Puyallup High, the bleachers were packed. She surveyed the stands and frowned. Apparently she’d get the bird’s-eye view. At least her camera came with a telephoto lens. She started to climb the metal stairs when a familiar voice stopped her.

  “Alice. Alice, over here.”

  She turned. Beth stood a few spaces down, waving.

  Ugh. She wasn’t in the mood for company. It was all she could do to keep from crying. Or screaming. Or both.

  Beth had saved her a seat, right between Misty and a couple of her PTA friends.

  Seeing no polite way to avoid them, Alice tucked her hair behind her ears and worked her way through a maze of legs, knees, and duffel bags.

  Beth’s smile widened as Alice approached. “I worried you might miss the kickoff.”

  She settled onto the metal bench. “Yeah, I passed by the exit and had to turn around, then got stuck in a work zone.”

  Misty scanned Alice’s jeans and T-shirt. “Alice, good to see you.” She pulled a compact from her purse and dabbed her nose.

  Fans sprang to their feet in applause as the home team ran onto the field. Kirkland High followed a few moments later, eliciting a slightly fainter cheer. Alice shaded her eyes and searched the bouncing heads for Tim and Danny. It didn’t take long for her to spot her oldest leading his team across the field in long, easy strides. Danny jogged four players back. His face swiveled as he searched the stands. Alice waved her arms and bounced on the balls of her feet, but he didn’t see her.

  Spectators sat as the players took their positions.

  Beth turned to Alice. “Tim’s doing a great job as captain. Luke said he really knows how to keep the guys united and motivated.”

  Alice nodded. “He’s always enjoyed leadership positions.”

  “Danny’s not doing too shabby, either. Especially for a sophomore. I’m glad to see Coach Davis give him so much playing time.”

  “And I am glad they’re both on varsity. Cuts my drive time, and bleacher time, in half.” She laughed.

  “I think we’ve got a shot at state, as long as no one gets injured.”

  Alice leaned forward as Travis, a junior, stole the ball and kicked it to midfield, where Tim stood ready and waiting. Trapping the ball midstride, he dribbled to the right. He wove past the opposing team, setting himself up for a perfect goal shot. Alice moaned when an opponent slide tackled him.

  Beth frowned. “Seems today’s game might be a little closer than we’d like.”

  The tension in Alice’s shoulders eased as they continued to make small talk. For once, Beth didn’t drill her on her marriage.

  Alice turned her attention back to the game. Puyallup’s striker dribbled downfield. Kirkland’s best midfielder ran in from the side and cross-fielded it. Micah chest-trapped it, and it dropped at his feet in perfect position.

  Rhonda jumped to her feet and cupped her mouth with her hands. “Way to go, Micah!” She grinned at Alice. “Did you see that play?”

  Micah passed the ball to Danny, who popped it off to Luke. The crowd erupted with a mixture of moans and hoorahs as Luke slammed it into the goal.

  One of the PTA ladies turned to the group with a toothy grin. “I’m gonna get some popcorn. You guys want anything?”

  “Oh, I’d love a diet soda.” Alice grabbed her handbag and pulled out her wallet. She flipped it open and stared at the empty fold, her cheeks burning. She’d given Tim her last $20. Quickly returning her billfold, she tucked her purse under her knees. “On second thought, I better not. I had more than my fair share of caffeine before leaving this morning.”

  “I’m sure they have Sprite.”

  “That’s OK. I really need to drink more water.”

  “I bet they have bottled water.”

  Her left eye twitched. “No, seriously. I’m fine.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended so she covered with a nervous laugh.

  “OK.” The lady threw her hands up. “I was just offering.”

  Alice lightened her tone. “And I appreciate the offer, but really, I’m fine.”

  Misty stood and puckered her lips in a pout. “I’ll come. I need to stretch my legs. My back end feels a bit sore.”

  As soon as they left, Beth zeroed in on Alice. “OK, so talk to me.”

  “About what?” Alice cupped her knees with her hands and focused on the game.

  “What do you mean, ‘about what?’”

  She watched from the corner of her eye as Beth yanked her purse out from under her and plopped it on her lap. A moment later, she produced a tan wallet stuffed with cash. She plucked a 50-dollar bill from the fold and handed it over.

  “What’s this for?” Alice made no attempt to hide her frustration. For the second time this month, Beth offered to rescue her, and Alice still hadn’t paid her back for lunch.

  Beth’s eyes softened as she rested her hand on Alice’s leg. “Just take it.”

  “Why?”

  “I know things are tough right now . . . with Trent.”

  “What, because of that?” She waved her hand toward Misty and her friends, who neared the concession stand. “I changed my mind, that’s all. In case you forgot, I’m trying to watch my weight.”

  Beth frowned. Alice stared at the money, wishing for an escape route or an empty seat at the far end of the bleachers.

  “You give any more thought to what we talked about the other day, about getting counseling?”

  Her face heated as she glanced at the many faces surrounding her. They couldn’t be having this conversation, not now. Not here. “I told you, we’re fine.”

  “And I told you”—Beth leaned
forward and spoke in a firm voice—“that I know you’re not.” She turned Alice’s hand over and pressed the cash in her palm. “Take it.”

  Alice chose not to fight her for fear of making a scene.

  “Why don’t you call Pastor Fred?”

  “Why? So he can add me to the weekly prayer list? No, thank you.”

  “And why not?”

  Alice snorted. “What do you mean, why not?”

  “You need prayer, don’t you? Seriously, Alice, why are you running from the people who can help you the most? Why are you pushing us away? Why are you pushing God away?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh, really?”

  The sun was already high in the sky, slow-passing vehicles humming on the street outside by the time Trent awoke. His head throbbed and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like a mound of cotton. He listened for the sound of voices. The silence assured him the house was empty. Good. That’d give him time to finish his work, once his brain fog cleared.

  His stomach revolted as he rolled out of bed, evidence of one too many drinks the night before. The bright light streaming through the blinds did nothing to soothe his throbbing headache. Shuffling out of the bedroom and down the hall, he paused to survey the tidy living room. The empty chip bags and soda bottles he came home to were gone, and a neatly folded newspaper took their place.

  He glanced toward Danny’s room and frowned. Poor kid. He had to be pretty mad, and he had every right to be. How could Trent forget to pick up his own son?

  He rubbed his face. He needed to get it together. For the boys’ sake. Maybe he could take them both out for a game of pool tonight. So long as he finished the Peak Performance job.

  Grabbing the newspaper, he flipped through the pages until he found the sports section and scanned a few headlines. He plodded into the kitchen. After nuking a cup of leftover coffee, he grabbed his computer and settled into the recliner. Time for a miracle—a divinely infused idea able to save his job.

  Peak Performance . . . what was their driving angle? What color, image, font style most accurately represented the granola-eating, hippie-inspired food company that targeted sports-fanatic baby boomers—a group so far removed from Trent it was like campaigning for the seniors’ shuffle board contest?

  He set his computer aside and stood. He needed to get his blood pumping. Pacing, he wracked his brain for stored images. Nothing. He picked up a magazine and randomly flipped through the pages. “How to lose ten pounds in two weeks,” spread across the top in bold letters.

  Alice and her diet tips. Like she needed them.

  Tossing the magazine aside, he resumed pacing.

  A cold beer would get his creative juices flowing. He hastened into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle from the fridge, then returned to the couch. The can opened with a swoosh, the cool liquid bubbling down his throat in frothy gulps. He downed it, then set the empty can on the coffee table. Returning his attention to the computer, he clicked on the Peak Performance file.

  Using the rectangle frame tool and the color swatch, he filled the screen with a deep shade of blue. He changed it to red, then green, then back to blue, finally settling on a deep navy background and locked the layer. Adding another layer and the gradient feather tool gave the screen a psychedelic feel.

  Leaning back to survey his work, he envisioned the Peak Performance Foods logo across the top. Maybe if he added a big grape to the center of the screen surrounded by a group of bikers? Hikers?

  Nothing fit. He deleted his work and started over, again and again—blue, green, bluish-green, Wide Latin, Impact, Rockwell Extra Bold—nada. By one o’clock his frustration level simmered near explosion.

  Gravel crunched. He glanced out the window to see the mailman stuffing a thick stack of mail into his box. Great. Just what he needed—more bills. But at least he could nab them before Alice saw them.

  Making a mental note to change the address on their accounts to a post office box, he waited until the mailman moved on to his neighbor before exiting the house. Priscilla knelt with her head in her flower garden, as usual. She stood when she saw Trent and hobbled over with a cheeky smile.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” She wiped her hands on her shorts.

  “Yes it is.” Trent kept walking.

  She followed a few steps behind, her thick clogs scraping against the walk. “I saw Alice and the boys leave this morning. They looked so handsome in their soccer uniforms.”

  Trent moaned inwardly. The soccer game! He checked his watch. What time did Alice say the game started? He couldn’t remember. Had she even told him where they played?

  Priscilla’s chirrupy voice trailed on. “Such a fun age. Some people dread the teenage years, but not me. Nope. I cherished every moment watching their personalities blossom. Though they kept me busy for sure! They did track. My oldest ran the 440. Youngest preferred distance. Slower than a sea slug, but boy-oh-boy, could that kid log the miles.”

  Mumbling how sports increased one’s self-esteem, Trent grabbed his mail and shoved it under his arm.

  Priscilla’s mouth quivered, poised with questions, but he didn’t give her the opportunity to ask. “It was good talking to you.”

  He spun around and strode inside, closing the door behind him. His briefcase lay on top of an end table. He grabbed it and shoved the mail, unopened, inside then zipped it shut. On Monday, these new bills would join all the others stashed in his desk waiting for more commission checks to pour in.

  Now for the soccer game. Hopefully it’d be a quickie, allowing him the rest of the day to work on this campaign. If he could even find it. Taking one last gulp of beer, he grabbed the phone and punched in Alice’s cell number. Her voice mail kicked on. She probably couldn’t hear the ring over the screaming fans. Next he tried Ed but hung up before the first ring.

  How would he explain this one? “Uh . . . Ed, this is Trent. Alice and the boys left for their game while I slept, recovering from a hangover. Do you know where the boys are playing today? Because I don’t.”

  That would go over real well. Besides, the game would probably be done by the time he got there anyway, which left nothing for him to do but grab another beer, sit back, and relax until creativity set in.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sunday morning, the steady beeping of the alarm clock sliced through Alice’s dream and forced her eyes open. Sitting up, she stared at the lump lying next to her. He lay on his side with one arm stretched out, one leg bent, and the other extended to the foot of the bed. His loud snores and snorts sounded like a freight train.

  They’d barely spoken three words the day before. Once again, he apologized, profusely, for messing up, not only for missing the game but for pulling a no-show on Danny the night before. This had led to a fight, during which she accused him of what she knew to be true—he was having an affair. Of course he denied it, as she’d expected.

  She was done listening to his lies and stupid excuses. And she refused to let him drag her down, not today. Today was Mother’s Day, and she intended to enjoy every moment of it.

  She smiled, thinking of her youngest. He always had something special planned. One year he’d made her breakfast in bed. Alice spent the rest of the morning scrubbing egg off the counters, but one look at his sparkling eyes as he brought her the tray made it all worth it.

  She slipped out of the room and eased the door closed behind her. Both boys’ doors were closed and soft snoring drifted from Tim’s room. She padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Fog blanketed her backyard and the early morning sun peaked over the horizon, chasing the crescent moon away. A raccoon leaped from a trashcan and disappeared through a hole in the fence.

  She started the coffee. While it brewed she set to work straightening the kitchen. Then, she nestled into the corner of the couch, steaming mug in hand. Tucking her feet under her, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. A Bible sat on the end table next to a wilting plant. She picked it up and ran her hand across its smooth leather c
over. The corners were frayed and many of the pages slipped from the binding. She opened it and randomly flipped through it until she landed on Psalm 46. She read the first three verses.

  “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.”

  The Holy Spirit pricked her heart, beckoning her to kneel in prayer. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  Hold it together.

  She snapped the Bible shut and returned it to the end table. Grabbing her mug once again, she nestled deeper into the cushions.

  “Happy Mother’s Day.”

  The sound of Danny’s voice startled her. She turned to see him holding a card and a gift bag. She recognized it as one he’d received from his birthday.

  His boyish grin warmed her heart and made her smile.

  “Danny, that is so sweet.” She stood and enveloped him in a hug.

  He stiffened beneath her embrace and she suppressed a giggle. He was at that awkward age that lingered between boyhood and manhood—the age where his voice squeaked and hugs seemed childish.

  She pulled away to look him in the eye. “What do you have there?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing fancy.”

  She removed the tissue and pulled out what appeared to be a handmade, rustic picture frame. Inside, he’d placed a photo of her and both boys together. It’d been taken two years before, when they’d taken the day to hike Deception’s Pass. Tall evergreens stretched in the back, the sky a pale blue streaked with wispy clouds. Wearing cutoffs and an orange tank, and grinning like a kid at Adventureland, Danny looked so young. He’d grown at least a foot since then, and had filled out considerably.

  “I love it.” She gave him a sideways hug. “So, you hungry?”

  Before he could respond, her phone rang. It was only 7:50. Who would call so early on a Sunday morning?

  Reading the return number, she answered. “Hello, Stephanie.” The church secretary.