Unbreak Me

by Alicia Cicoria

  My eyes fluttered open when he stopped. He crumbled up the napkins, his eyes still on me, and sat them on the table. I’d never noticed before that his eyes were a mixture of brown and green, green being the dominate color. They held a reptile appearance, smothered in a vortex intensity. I allowed my gaze to bounce from his eyes and down to his mouth that offered me a strained smile.

  “I’m sorry.” He breathed, his face inches from mine. His eyebrows pulled together with sincerity. "I had no idea. I am so sorry, Amberly."

  The waitress approached our table, setting down our plates. Bryant turned around and held up a finger. “Can we get the check and a couple of to-go boxes?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

  Bryant paused before turning back to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  He watched every move I made, the same heartbreaking look all over his face. “I can take you home.”

  I waved both hands in front of me, curling my fingers around the arm that was reaching for his cell phone. “No. No, it’s fine. She’s been gone for almost a year.”

  “Are you sure? I can call Adam and tell him you aren’t coming back to work.”

  I exhaled. “Bryant, I’m sure. I should be over it. Shit happens. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I attempted to stop the streaming of tears that poured down my cheeks.

  Fine.

  The word seemed foreign. What was fine? What did it mean exactly? I wasn’t great so was fine a definition for bat-shit crazy? Did fine mean I wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath my comforter and pray away tomorrow? Did fine mean I was floating through life, going through repeated motions that were set on a timer?

  If so, yes, I would be fine. I could be fine. I had to be fine. How did anyone go from fine to great after the death of their child? Did it ever happen?

  Bryant lifted an eyebrow, questioning my words. “Fine? Amberly, it’s okay not to be fine.”

  I could tell he wanted to touch me, to wrap me up in a hug that he no doubt assumed would obliterate all my sadness. In truth, I wanted him to touch me. I wanted his arms around me. It'd been so long since I had felt anything that reminded me that I was still alive. He hesitated, more than likely because of Eric. He had heard my comment that nothing was ever about Eric, but he probably didn't know what I had meant. I didn’t know if I wanted to tread those waters. Telling him, I risked opening doors I wasn’t sure I wanted opened. When the doors were closed I didn't feel vulnerable, the way I was feeling at that very moment.

  I noticed the way Bryant looked at me. It was written in bold all over his face. It was the exact reason I had stayed away from him while I was married. Any time he sent out a reminder for a softball game, they went unanswered by me. Before Haylie died, he had approached me and asked if I was getting his texts. I reassured him I was and that conversation fell flat. He’d tried several other times to say something during practices. I gave him one-word answers, just enough to feel safe and not be considered a total bitch. Bryant could unlock my heart, dispensing out my vulnerability like a gum ball machine. He could scoop up the pieces, one by one, and devour them. Devour me. I could freely mold against him. All of this would be something I couldn't control if I allowed myself any more time with him alone.

  “I said I was fine. Not great, but fine. And I am.” I compiled all the confidence I had to keep my voice from shaking, revealing what he already knew.

  His eyes scanned over me, up and down, in a constant pattern. “Okay.”

  The waitress returned and Bryant dumped our food into the boxes. He stacked them on top of each other and threw two twenties onto the table before holding out his hand.

  I bit my lip and peered at his hand.

  “I’m not going to bite you.” He joked, moving his hand closer to me.

  My hand landed in his and he lifted me up from the booth.

  He did the same thing as before, opening my door and shutting it. We drove back to Skrillex, the only sound was the ominous hum of his vehicle fighting against the icy wind. I shut my eyes as the truck came to a stop.

  He reached over the console of his truck, retrieving our boxes from the backseat. “Hungry?” He held mine up.

  “Thanks.” I started to open the door and he stopped me, pulling on my forearm.

  “You can eat in here.”

  “I am not the most graceful person when I eat.” I admitted, scolding myself in my mind.

  He opened his box and picked up the sandwich he’d ordered. “This isn’t a date, remember? The only time you’d need to eat without staining anything is during a date.”

  I giggled. “Is that so?”

  His head bobbed up and down. “Yep. Remember that when I take you on a date.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks, painting them pink. Make that the second time I had blushed in front of him. “When?”

  Bryant held up a finger as he chewed up the mouthful he had. “Yes, when. Because one of these days I’m going to ask you.”

  I finished chewing. “And what am I going to say?”

  “Well, if you’re single you’ll say yes. If you’re not, I guess I’ll get punched by your husband.” He contemplated his words for a few moments. “I don’t think it’ll hurt though.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have a husband.”

  It got quiet in the cab of his truck, a few notes hovering through the speakers. I recognized the words to a country song by Russell Dickerson. ‘Yours’.

  Bryant cleared his throat to respond but I stopped him. “Don’t say you’re sorry. That would make twice you’ve said it, and you can only say you’re sorry if you are responsible for my pain.”

  He closed the lid to his box. “Amberly, I don’t ever want to be responsible for your pain.”

  I sat my box on top of his, between us. “You didn’t have to buy my lunch.” I said, changing the subject.

  “I wanted to.”

  “Then you have to let me buy your lunch next time. You don’t buy lunch for someone you aren’t on a date with.” I countered, hauling my purse onto my lap.

  “I’ve never heard that rule before. I think you just want to go to lunch with me again.”

  “You started the list of the date rules. I’m only adding to that list.” I forced the door open and hopped down to the gravel parking lot.

  He met me around the front of his truck, blocking me from going any further. He crossed his arms, letting a smile creep onto his face.

  “We have to keep this list going then. I’m not done adding rules.” His hands flew up by his midsection, palms toward the sky as he held them out in front of them... “I can bet we can add at least five more.”

  I pondered his suggestion. “Okay. Every day we add one rule to the list.”

  “And,” he interrupted, “when the list reaches seven rules, I take you on a date.”

  “Ten.”

  “Five.”

  I ran my tongue across my teeth. “Fine. Seven.” My eyes traced him, engraving an outline into my memory. I had no idea what I was doing. Or what I was feeling. I didn't know if I liked not knowing.

  He crossed his arms again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "About what?"

  "Eric."

  I bit my lip, trying to decide if I did want to talk about it. The one person that knew besides myself was Cricket. Admitting your husband cheated on you was a hard sentence to say. You go through all the motions in life, trying to keep yourself from finding fault in yourself. I had gone many months blaming myself, almost believing that maybe the entire decision he'd made was my fault. It wasn't an easy truth to reveal. A battle brewed inside of me, going back and forth on whether or not I should say anything to Bryant about it.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes, mostly at myself. "He cheated on me. Not a lot to talk about. I wasn't enough for him anymore." I played it off like it wasn't a big deal.

  When we separated, I heard all about the women he had brought to bed. You'd think it was his normal. After a few
conversations, I had learned the woman I had caught him with was an ex of his and she hadn’t been the only one. I spent a long time thinking about whether that made it worse or easier to accept. He went on a binge, sleeping his way around town while I did the complete opposite. After all, it was different for girls.

  Chapter 8

  HeartBroke

  Bryant

  I tried to stop myself. Before I knew it, I was cupping her face with both of my hands. Her skin felt as smooth as I thought it would. I didn't want to stop touching her. "If he was really that stupid to think you weren't enough, he doesn't deserve you. Any man who is lucky enough to be in your presence should never take that for granted. Ever. They should know that being married to you is a privilege." If I could predict her reaction, I would have kissed her. Right then. Right there. With everything she had been through, I knew not to push her away, and I couldn't be sure that kissing her wouldn't do that.

  Tears formed in her eyes. I was positive no one had ever said anything close to that to her. It made removing my hands that much harder because I had so many words I needed to say to her.

  Several other cars had started to pull in, including Adam’s, so I released her and let her walk away. He parked close to the door and Cricket leaped out before he came to a complete stop. She was crazy.

  “How was lunch?” Adam unlocked the back door and led the way inside.

  I tried to keep a straight face, failing miserably.

  “Did she pop off anymore random facts about animals and their sexual encounters?” He asked, laughing so loud the noise echoed as we entered the building.

  I shoved his shoulder with mine. I had told Adam about the messages, after trying to decipher them on my own. Adam was convinced Amberly liked me. “Seriously, dude, don’t say anything to anybody else about those. I don’t want any of the guys here thinking any different of her.”

  Both Amberly and Cricket were respected by the guys in the shop, though some of the guys still flirted. Amberly could hold her own though. I’d seen her last week bantering with one of the other mechanics. Jackson. That was his name. I think.

  “I won’t say anything.” He promised as he turned on the lights to the area. We had three cars on lifts and two prepped and ready to fly through the painting booth.

  I tried so fucking hard to concentrate on what I was doing, despite the fact Amberly's pain was weighing down on me. Not a single thing that had happened to her had been deserved. She was the last person I had expected to lose so much. How she was coping with it was beyond me. I ached for her. I ached to erase every ounce of anguish from her. Though she put on a front, it was easy for me to see what she was going through. Her eyes revealed so much her mouth refused to say.

  I left the parking lot after work, clocking out a little earlier to meet Mac at the mall parking lot where we had agreed over the weekend.

  When she pulled up in a Chevrolet Cruze, I got out of my truck. I had changed out of the shirt I wore for Skrillex, trading it in for a white t-shirt.

  “Funny, I went to the police station and they said you no longer worked there. They said you quit. What kind of shit are you trying to pull?”

  I sighed and stuffed my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from hitting her. I had never hit a woman in my life, but Mac made me want to incorporate a habit of it. Strictly dedicated to her, of course. “No, Mac, I don’t work there anymore.”

  “Perfect. You'll be teaching Delia to lie just like you in no time. Father of the year." She gripped both of her widened hips and tilted her head to the side. "Can I ask why?"

  From that angle, I could see a bald spot building its way on the top of her head where she parted her hair. Her hair was suffering through the many boxes of Wal-Mart hair dye she’d subjected it to. I think the color she used was golden blond, but it looked as though she constantly got into fights with gallons of bleach.

  “You can but it doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”

  She came closer, pursing her lips together before opening her mouth again. “That’s why you don’t have me on your life insurance anymore.”

  I frowned. “No. I told you why I don’t have you on it anymore.”

  I didn’t even know what the point of meeting her here was. I leaned to the side, noticing her car was void of Delia. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “MY daughter is at home with Ian. It’s not your time with her. Anyways, I guess I’ll give you time to get life insurance set up where ever you’re working now.”

  I withdrew my hands and scrubbed them against my face. “Mac, I’m not adding you to my life insurance policy.” Was she really that stupid? I knew she had eyes as wide as a deer noticing an oncoming car, generally making her look like she was shocked and confused all the time. But...really?

  Anger registered in her eyes, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. See to it that I am able to give it to Delia when something happens to you.”

  I laughed and widened my eyes. “When? Is that a threat?”

  She scoffed and jutted her hip out. “No. I wouldn’t waste my time trying to plot your death.”

  “Ok then. Delia will receive my benefits, if I die, after she turns eighteen. Is there anything else you wanted?”

  She turned on her heel and drug out a plastic bag from her backseat. She dropped it at my feet. “Here.”

  I knelt down and peeked inside. Pictures. Dozens of pictures that Mac had taken from our home when she left. I could stop questioning why she had taken them, deciding it was out of spite. She never thought I’d ask for them back, and if I did, I could bet she didn’t think I’d get them. The judge ordered her to return all the pictures that belonged to me.

  “Hang on.” I picked up the bag and tossed it in the passenger side of my pickup, grabbing a few items of mail that had gotten sent to my house. I handed them to her. “I’ve asked you several times to get your address changed.”

  “It is changed.” She rotated the mail, checking each one. “You act like my mail always gets sent to your house.”

  “All I’m asking is to contact those companies directly and make sure they’ve got your correct address.”

  “Whatever. Oh, I’m taking Delia out of town for a couple of weeks.”

  “When?”

  “Next month.”

  I calmed myself before addressing what she’d said. “You can’t do that. You have to give me written notice thirty days beforehand.”

  “I can do that and I will. What are you going to do? Take me back to court?”

  I shook my head and walked away from her. She was always doing this shit to me. As soon as I got into my truck, she went back to her car, peeling out of the parking lot. I turned the key and felt the vibration of my cell phone against my hip.

  I think I’ve got something.

  Lucas’ text flashed across my screen and I held my breath, hoping to God it wasn’t a fluke.

  Lucas Camden lived in a dark, wooded area, his driveway equaling that of a very confusing maze. His home sat on top of a hill that overlooked a pond overrun by snapping turtles. I’d come to his place a few times, after my separation from Mac, to fish. The tranquility soothed my aching heart. He had talked some sort of sense into me, reasoning that Mac hadn’t been the person I married. He even disclosed information about her that left my heart broke and my stomach collapsing with sickness. According to him, Mac had been caught, on more than one occasion, trying to get a few of my coworkers in bed. Her infidelity even reached out to the president of the softball organization.

  Now, I wondered why I had spent so much time and energy getting over her when she'd never been worth one tear.

  “Hey, man.” Lucas opened his door, the burning wood from his fireplace infiltrating my senses.

  I shook his hand and seated myself on his brown, leather sofa. “What did you find?” I wasted no time interrogating him.

  He picked up a manila folder from his coffee table and handed it to me.

  I scanned over the papers, r
ealizing it was the documentation of an arrest I’d made on the very day the anonymous call came in that I had drugs in my squad car. “What’s this?” The name on the ticket was Sadie Wilcox.

  “That is the ticket you wrote Sadie Wilcox. You also hauled her into the county jail that day for a warrant for unpaid tickets.” He pointed to the papers rather forcefully, nearly knocking them out of my grasp.

  “What does this prove?”

  Lucas grinned. Like the damn Cheshire cat, which meant he knew something I didn’t. My brain wasn’t processing the significance of Sadie’s arrest to the day I was let go. The drugs could have been planted at any point.

  “It proves,” Lucas flipped his television on, “that Sadie Wilcox is behind what happened that day.”

  I shook my head, regretting wasting my time. Lucas was the type of cop who looked for meaning in things that were never there. I assumed this was another one of his stunts to prove my innocence. It gutted him, almost as much as it had gutted me, when I had been told to walk away from my position.

  I had found zero evidence of any foul play the day I’d borrowed the documents from all the tickets I’d written and arrests I made. I hadn’t given another thought to Sadie Wilcox being the culprit behind my demise. That’s because there’d been a couple other tickets written that day. “Wait, she wasn’t the only one I wrote a ticket for. I wrote a couple more tickets after that.” I snapped my fingers, digging into my memories to pull out the names of the other two.

  Lucas pressed a button on his remote, his television flashing with footage from inside my squad car. He fast forwarded through the footage, though the pace was still slow enough to see what was going on. He paused it once Sadie’s face came into view. Still holding the remote, he pointed to the screen. “You did write two other tickets and even made another arrest that day, but Sadie is the only one who sat in the passenger seat of your car while you got back out to inspect a blown tail light. You made her sit inside while you did that and once you ran her license plate, you arrested her and sat her in the back seat.” He shrugged with nonchalance, as though I would piece together what he was getting at.