As Tears Go By

by Lydia Michaels

  He’d pledged he was a changed man. However, comments about her unmatched, serviceable dishes and other lackluster parts of her world spoke of his lingering desire for a fancier life. Braydon would have never commented on such things. No matter how much Kevin attested to wanting a life with them, his grumbling told a different story. It seemed a sacrifice for him to be there and it shouldn’t have been. Not when Becca sacrificed her own happiness in order to allow him the opportunity.

  On New Year’s Eve, Kevin showed up with champagne and high hopes, but Becca wasn’t in the celebratory mood. The person she’d hoped to ring in the New Year with was gone. She sent Kevin home before midnight and welcomed the coming year alone. Everything inside of her begged for action, yet she was so depleted, so broken down by shame and fear, she couldn’t seem to make herself move.

  Her last conversation with Braydon replayed in her mind on an hourly basis. The last time they were together was the end. She could no longer dredge up the courage to face him, fearful she’d only disappoint him once more. Still, the words of their last phone call played in her mind like the echoes of a distant bell she’d never see in person.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he said quietly.

  Her heart sank. “Braydon—”

  “Tell me you changed your mind, Becca. This sitting in neutral is killing me.”

  Her eyes drifted to her son. He’d been building a train track with Kevin. Everything about the scene should have made her happy.

  “Please, just give me a little more time.”

  He was silent for a long time. “I love you, Becca, but time isn’t going to change anything. I think you’ve made up your mind.” His voice sounded so depleted. “I don’t want to keep doing this. We’re getting nowhere. Please don’t call me again unless you’ve changed your mind.”

  Several times she considered calling again, craving the sound of his voice, the closeness they once shared, but her compassion for him forbade it. Every selfish attempt to drag out their goodbye was hurting him. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain, regretting that which she’d already inflicted.

  After too many empty days and lonely nights, the silence finally broke her. She needed to see him, needed to hear his voice, look into his eyes and confess she’d screwed everything up. She didn’t have the answers, but the turn her life had taken could not be the solution she’d hoped for. She loved her son, would do anything for him, but denying her own happiness was killing her.

  She’d gone to his apartment after work to talk, but it was empty. Removing her key from the ring, she placed it on the counter and wept the entire way home. Becca waited until Hunter fell asleep that night to truly break down. Braydon was gone.

  She was done making excuses borne of fear, and sadly, she’d hesitated too long, the realization that she needed to be with him coming too late. Despite all her efforts to do the right thing, provide the most organic environment for her son, she couldn’t ignore her desire—no need—to have Braydon in her life. But she had vacillated and now, she wasn’t sure she could fix any of this. She had no one to blame but herself.

  Yes, Kevin had been more helpful and was doing more with Hunter, which was great, but he was still Kevin. There were parts of him she simply couldn’t abide. And why should she have to? Their personal relationship was over. All that was left were echoes of lost hope in the shadows of her heart that now belonged to someone else.

  Her love went to those that deserved it—Hunter and Braydon—which was where her loyalty belonged as well. It took her some time to process the finality of such an epiphany, but once she embraced her choice, all the weight that had been bogging her down seemed to ease. Clarity had been contaminated by past doubts—and her own stupidity. But she was done denying herself the happiness she deserved for obligations she’d met twice over.

  It was time to put herself first, something a lot easier said than done. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  She considered calling him, but the sound of his voicemail when he didn’t answer would be like having a layer of flesh ripped off, gutting her with the confirmation he was finished with her. Though she was ready to make a move, she wasn’t sure how to proceed. She’d botched so much already. Everything was fragile.

  Wandering through the dark house, she grabbed a box of tissues and collapsed onto the couch. So lost in her sobs, she didn’t hear the door open.

  “Rebecca?” With her name came the acute sense of distress.

  “Kevin?” The man had impeccable timing. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  Her body shuddered. It was becoming excruciatingly difficult to fake happiness at his presence, which was becoming more and more intrusive, treading on moments that had nothing to do with their son. Quickly collecting the crumpled tissues littered all over the sofa, she stood and swallowed back her erupting emotions. “You should call first.”

  “Call before I come to my house?” The sterile hatred she associated with his narcissism was magnified every time he laid claim to her house as though it still belonged to him. Her hand stilled over the trashcan, tissues soaked with tears for Braydon falling in with the rubbish. Pivoting slowly, she faced her ex-husband.

  He sifted through the mail—her mail—sitting on the counter. Every gnawing thought overshadowed by the pressure of the last few weeks collided as her patience snapped with piercing clarity. “That’s it.”

  “That’s it?” He placed the mail back on the counter and frowned in confusion.

  “Yes!” she snapped, at her wit’s end. She collected her mail and stashed it in a drawer. “That. Is. It. This is my house. You can’t just barge in here whenever you feel like it.”

  “Rebecca—”

  “Ugh! Stop calling me that! No one calls me Rebecca. And you say that name in the most condescending tone!

  He held up his palms defensively in surrender. “Why are you so angry?”

  “Why?” She laughed, sounding a bit senseless. “Why am I angry? Okay, how’s this? I never used to get angry. I’d let you do whatever you wanted, because I was too busy doing everything else, and that worked just fine for you. While I was busy holding this house together, raising our son, attending meetings, figuring out the bills, and aging myself twice as fast picking up all your slack, you were busy going to the gym, fucking God knows what, and having a mid-life crisis shopping spree we couldn’t afford. I’m very sorry you were so discontent in our marriage, Kevin, but maybe if you’d helped out once in a while I could have been a better wife!”

  Her head was spinning as her temper flared out of control. Had she really been disillusioned enough to consider cutting off her own personal needs for this man? He’d said it was for them, and she’d tried to do right by Hunter, but the truth was, no matter how much she would always care for the father of her child, she really disliked him for all of the terrible things he’d done and all the crucial things he’d never managed to do.

  “I have needs, Kevin!” Maybe he didn’t deserve to be attacked in that moment, but so many unresolved issues of their past had been excused without a word from her, she felt it was her due to—for once—lose a bit of her patience. “You hurt me more than anyone else ever has. You slept with another woman—in our bed! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get over that? And then you turned around and blamed it on me like I should have been blowing you in between IEP meetings and workshops and everything else I do around here.”

  “I’ve apologized, Rebecca. I don’t know how else to fix things.”

  “You can’t fix this! You broke us!” But deep down she knew they’d already been broken.

  His face flushed a dark shade of red. “You’re acting hysterical.”

  “I am hysterical! Because of you everything is messed up! I was happy. For once in my life I was happy. All you had to do was let me be, but you couldn’t do that. You sat right there and pulled every trick in the book. My God, you even brought up having more children.”r />
  “I wasn’t trying to trick you, Rebecca. I want things the way they were.”

  “Oh, I bet you do,” she said coldly. “You had quite the life. The problem is, Kevin, I don’t want things the way they were. I was miserable. You made me miserable. Catching you that day was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. It should’ve removed all my guilt and validated the ending to our relationship. But our marriage, our family, meant everything to me. I couldn’t throw it away as fast as you and you took advantage of that. You took advantage of me!”

  There was a noise in the hall and she froze. They both turned and found Hunter studying them, unspeakable questions in his eyes.

  “Get back in bed, Hunter,” Kevin barked.

  Her blood boiled. “Don’t you dare yell at him!” she snapped. Stepping to Hunter, she softened her voice and touched his shoulder. “Come on, bud. Let’s go back to bed.” As she passed Kevin she hissed, "I want you to leave. Now.”

  He caught her arm. “I want to talk about this.”

  “I don’t. I said everything I needed to say to you months ago. I don’t like the person I am when I’m around you. I want you to go and I want you to take your crap with you. For half a year I’ve nicely asked you to get the boxes out of the garage. If they aren’t gone tonight I’m putting them on the curb tomorrow, because whether you like it or not, this is my house to do with as I please and you no longer belong here.”

  She’d allowed him too much leverage, too much of a say in her future. After ten years of marriage it was difficult to change her thinking, but finally doing so felt right. Her words, as cruel and overdue as they might be, vindicated the emotions she’d been hiding from.

  Her hands trembled as she led Hunter upstairs. The lights from Kevin’s car eventually reflected on the curtains, telling her he’d gone. As stoic as she attempted to be, there was no holding her tears inside.

  Hunter’s head rested on the pillows, his eyes studying her face. His small hand pressed to her eyes and she caught his fingers in hers so he didn’t accidentally poke her.

  “Sad.”

  His perception surprised her, wringing out more emotions. “It’s okay, honey. Mommy’s just upset. Try and shut your eyes and get some sleep. It’s late.”

  He studied her for a long moment, not necessarily looking into her eyes, but observing her features. His small brow pinched as his head tilted. “Smile,” he said.

  Her lips trembled into a somber grin, but her eyes continued to weep. Her boy was so sweet. She hated the moments he saw her like this, moments she wasn’t strong enough to hold it all inside. He shouldn’t have to witness her tears.

  “Braydon.”

  She stilled.

  When Hunter was first diagnosed someone told her to expect moments of hope and moments of grief at the same time. Hearing Braydon’s name cross her son’s lips was exactly that. “What?”

  “Braydon makes you smile.”

  Her lips parted, shocked by his insight. Hunter knew Braydon, not just in a superficial sense, but in a comprehensive way. Somehow, during all the spinning, stimming, racing, and rocking, her sweet son had interpreted one undeniable truth—Braydon made her happy.

  Her shock lasted so long, Hunter’s attention drifted to the stuffed monkey sitting on his bed. She swallowed and did what she should have done all along. She asked her son what he wanted. “Hunter, do you love Braydon?”

  He made an affirmative sound.

  “Did you like the place we visited with Mrs. McCullough, the lady with orange hair that gave you hot chocolate?”

  He laughed. “She gave me blue gloves.”

  She chuckled, ever impressed by his memory. “Yes, she gave you blue gloves. Did you like that place?”

  “Yeah.” He bit his lip and rolled to his side, staring at the wall. He was getting tired.

  “Would you like to go back there some time?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we could stay there,” she suggested gently, unsure if that was even an option at this point.

  “And play in the snow?”

  She smiled. “Yes, and play in the snow. And in the summers we could swim in the lakes. Would you like that?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. But not to get my hair wet.”

  Drawing in a choppy breath, she smiled. “No, we don’t have to go under water.”

  She pulled up the blankets, but rested by his side until he fell asleep. When he finally dozed, she carefully curled closer to his little body and slowly rested her hand over his, hugging him gently. “I love you, Hunter.”

  Sometimes autism was too complicated to explain, but other times it was so simplistic it showed her how uncomplicated love could be. She was done being afraid. It was time to welcome hope back into her life. She was certain of where she was meant to be, because the moment Hunter spoke Braydon’s name her only regret was that Braydon wasn’t there to hear him.

  * * * *

  The room wobbled as Becca plopped on Nikki’s couch. “I’m such a shmuck.” Her plan to fix things with Braydon had fallen flat when he didn’t answer any of her calls.

  Nikki patted her leg lovingly. “You’re not a shmuck.”

  “I’d hate to say I told you so—”

  “Then don’t,” Nikki snapped, giving her sister a pointed look.

  “It was only a matter of time before the real Kevin showed up.”

  “I freaked out,” Becca slurred.

  “The man is a cockroach,” Carla argued. “There could be atomic warfare and he’d keep showing up. You did the right thing. Maybe freaking out got through to him.”

  Nikki refilled Becca’s glass. “No one blames you for taking the time to consider your choices, Becca. You needed to realize this on your own. Now you can move on without the burden of self-doubt.”

  “I can’t move on. Braydon hates me.”

  “He does not hate you. He’s hurt. Men have pride. You took a little shit on his.”

  “You don’t understand. He thinks I chose Kevin over him. It was never a matter of Kevin, only Hunter, but no matter how hard I tried to explain that he never understood. Now he’ll think he’s second choice.”

  “Not if you explain it to him. Show him your mind’s made up and he’s the one you want.”

  “He doesn’t want to hear it. So long as he refuses to take my calls he’ll never know my position changed.”

  “He didn’t want to hear it while Kevin was still in the picture,” Nikki said. “He’s gone now. Eventually you’ll get through to him.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Carla interrupted. “But didn’t he tell you not to contact him until you’ve made up your mind? Mind’s made up. Nikki, get Becca’s phone.”

  Nikki dug around in Becca’s purse and produced her phone. “Here you go, my love.”

  “He won’t answer.”

  Carla snatched the phone out of her hand. “Oh, just dial.” They all waited in silence as the call connected. Carla frowned. “It went to voicemail.”

  Becca started to cry again. She’d been such a mess, she insisted Kevin take Hunter to his place for the remainder of the weekend. Perhaps the man was human after all, because he agreed with little protest.

  “Give me that phone,” Nikki demanded. She punched the contact information from Becca’s phone into her own and hit send. They waited.

  “Braydon, this is Nikki. You have thirty minutes to call me back on this number or I can’t be held responsible for what happens. I’ve gone through too many tissues and too much vodka for one night to put up with this childish shit any longer. Call me back.”

  A minute later the phone rang. “Bingo.” Nikki gave a cocky grin and brought the phone to her ear. “Good evening, Mr. McCullough.”

  “Good evening, but I’m afraid you have the wrong McCullough. This is Finn.”

  “It’s his brother,” Nikki hissed, tucking the phone away from her lips.

  “We can hear him,” Carla hissed back. “Tell him to put Kelly on the phone.”
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  Becca smacked her in the arm. “Why does Finn have Braydon’s phone?”

  Nikki held up a finger. “Might I speak with Braydon?”

  “’Fraid not. He isn’t taking calls at the moment.”

  Her friendly demeanor vanished. “Why the hell not?”

  “He’s a little preoccupied with other things right now.”

  Becca’s stomach flipped. Other things? What sort of other things?

  Nikki’s expression hardened. “What are you, his secretary?”

  “Just a concerned relative.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell your brother to grow a set and—”

  “Nikki, don’t.” Defeated, she pleaded with her friend. “I knew he wouldn’t want to talk. Don’t yell at Finn.”

  “Is that Becca? How’s she doing?”

  Nikki frowned. “Becca’s fine. Whose side are you on?”

  “I’m neutral.”

  “Well, listen, Switzerland, Becca was figuring her life out and she wants to explain things to your brother, but the man’s being stubborn and won’t pick up the phone.”

  “I don’t think he’s capable of operating heavy machinery right now.”

  “Like a phone?”

  “Yup,” Finn agreed in a chipper tone. “He probably won’t be calling her back until he pukes at least twice and sleeps for four to seven hours. We gave him a lot of liquor.”

  She cupped her hand over the phone. “He’s wasted.”

  “Oh, like Becca!” Carla clapped. “You two are so meant to be.”

  Nikki held up her finger and stood. “Refill her glass, Carla. I’ll be right back.” Nikki disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes as Carla did as instructed.

  “Drink up, pudding.”

  “I don’t think I should have anymore.” Her head was getting very heavy on her neck and the room kept spinning.

  Carla waved her objection away. “Don’t be silly. Now, which one’s Finn? Is he the gay one?”

  “No, that’s Luke, his twin.” Amazingly, she could still keep all the McCullough’s names straight, even drunk.

  “I don’t know how Maureen did it, raising that many boys, but I’m sure glad she did.”