by Wendy Burke
WTF, bro?
He tapped on the accompanying file. He turned the phone horizontal so the video properly filled the screen.
Red and blue lights crisscrossed a white-lit stage. County nymph Treena Cache’s high bold voice came from the speaker on his phone. The shaky cell-phone video shot zoomed in on Andy, clearly visible behind the indecently clad country singer. Microphone in one hand, his other about the bare midsection of the singer, he matched her note for note and explicit move for move.
Caught the show in KC. She waved me up on stage.
And you had to go?
She wanted me to sing with her.
Obviously, she wanted to do something else with you….
Andy narrowed his eyes at his phone. With a bit of irritation he tapped, What’s your point?
Charly.
What about her?
How do you think she’s going to feel when she sees this?
She doesn’t spend much time on Facebook, YouTube, or online at all-unless it has to do with art.
You didn’t answer the question. It’s not a matter of if she sees it, it’s a matter of when.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, Why was everyone in his personal business? He tapped back, Again, what is your point, Aaron?
If you don’t know what this sort of outward bullshit is doing to your marriage, then I can’t say much more. Sounds like you want me to stay out of it…so I will.
A call interrupted the text volley. “Hey, Mom.”
“Can you get home, Andy?”
Those words never brought good news. “What’s going on?”
“Charly had a miscarriage. She’s at Froedert Hospital. Call or text when you get to town.”
“What?”
“Just get here. She and the girls need you.”
***
Settled in the corner of the hospital room, the girls were entertained by their ten-year old cousin, Jeremy, coloring books, and Legos.
Charly rested in bed, still light-headed from pain-numbing drugs. Her mother-in-law sat nearby, offering ice chips and motherly support.
Linda Knox glanced at her phone on the bedside table. The buzz meant one thing—her youngest son had arrived. She texted back the room number and then looked at her grandchildren. “Jeremy, why don’t you and the girls go for a little walk.” She dug in her purse, extracting a ten dollar bill. “Do you think you can find the cafeteria? I think the girls would like some ice cream.”
As expected, the young man didn’t balk. He graciously accepted the bill, stuffed it in his front pocket, and put out his hands for his cousins. “C’mon Bree, c’mon Chlo.” The girls willingly went with him.
Andy cracked the door of the hospital room, concerned about what he’d see and his reception from his family. “Mom?”
He’d seen that same look on his mother’s face a few times in his life—like when he ripped the transmission out of a brand new F-150 pickup truck screwing around, running the vehicle through the woods near their farm, Or in high school, when he brought home an F, in, of all things, physical education. The teenager had refused to participate in gym class, saying he didn’t want to wear himself out before baseball practice.
The knot in his gut pulled tighter as his mother slipped by him, saying nothing.
He had a difficult time keeping his composure. Tears bubbled in the corners of his eyes as he choked out, “Charly?”
When took her hand, she blinked at him then turned her face away.
He clutched her hand, more so to anchor himself and keep his tears riveted in place, than to possibly comfort his wife. Stroking her soft hair from her still-flushed forehead, he leaned over and kissed her temple. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“For what?” She asked, her tone flat.
“That I wasn’t here.”
She turned her face back to where he stood, looking at her, his hand still holding hers. “It seems you were busy at the time.”
He sucked in a breath, shocked, she’d never before used his profession against him. Forcing down any notion of irritation, he did the one thing he knew would erase that hurt. He moved toward his wife for an embrace, but Charly stiffened in his hold, rejecting him. Regardless, he hugged her well, even if only for his own comfort.
The girls and his nephew returned. He altered his demeanor for the sake of the kids in the room. Cups of ice cream forgotten, Breanna and Chloe piled the small containers into their cousin’s grasp and ran headlong into their father’s waiting hug.
They tripped over their worried questions. “Is Mommy okay? Can we go home? Are you staying, Daddy?” And the one statement which tore at his heart to the point of tears. “I’m scared, Daddy.”
Clutched in his embrace, the aroma of his little girls filled his nose and evoked a strong desire to be home. In the back of his mind, a slow understanding of what transpired began to take shape, what he may have been losing, where had he gone wrong.
“It’s going to be okay. Mommy’s going to be all right.” Kissing them both, he redirected their attention to their ice cream.
Moving back to Charly’s bed, whether she wanted it or not, he kissed her again.
“The girls will keep you company. I’ll be right back, hon.” Hoping for any response, his emotions dashed again when she looked away without even acknowledging he’d spoken.
He found his mother in the hallway, leaning against the wall, head down in thought or maybe prayer. His inquiry requested answers to more than just the obvious physical situation with his wife. “What the hell is going on, Mom? What did the doctors say?”
“Sit.”
Her stern, inarguable tone sent his mind back to his boyhood on his family’s dairy farm. A good lashing was most likely forthcoming.
“What do you think they said?” she asked rhetorically.
He shrugged, unsure where this line of discussion was headed.
“You lost a son or daughter, the girls lost a sibling, and your father and I lost another grandchild, that’s what the doctors said.”
He struggled to hold back tears. “It’s happened before, I know.”
“Andrew, that doesn’t make it any easier on Charly, especially as of late.”
Her tone immediately put him on the defensive. “I know I’m not home half the summer, and this year it’s been pretty much all summer, but it’s what I do, Mother. She knows that. It’s our life. She and I have had this conversation numerous times over the past ten years plus.”
She moved directly in front of his chair. “Oh, Andy.” A disgusted chuckle left her mouth. “Where is your head? You’re killing your wife and your marriage with your actions.”
Why am I the bad guy in all this? He opened his mouth in reply, but the disciplinarian he hadn’t heard in more than twenty years took control of his mother’s being.
“What are you thinking, Andrew! What are you doing when you’re away from home?”
Playing dumb, he ignored what he knew—the explicit photo shoot with the models earlier in the season, the suggestive dance video with Treena Cache which had gone viral. I really don’t want to have this conversation again!
“You know damn well what you’ve done, Andrew.” Her tone took a hard turn. “We all know what you’ve been doing—first that distasteful magazine spread and now a disgusting video with that singer.”
Andy held back a small snort. You people need to lighten up. “Geez, Mom, you know how many times I’ve had to defend myself on this? I was all in good fun. I am not cheating on Charly, if that’s what this conversation is really about.” He looked back up at his mother, seeking an iota of understanding.
None came. She would refuse to understand and accept his New York Titan behavior. Without warning, her strong, callused farm-woman’s hand smacked him squarely across the face.
He almost mumbled “what the fuck,” but he knew that would have prompted the opposite cheek being cracked. Before he could tend to his stinging cheek, she grabbed his face in her warm palms. The comforting touc
h following such an angry slap focused his attention.
“You weren’t raised like this. Your father and I raised you and your brothers to respect people of all kinds, especially women, and, most importantly, the women you’re related to. You have inflicted some serious, and possibly irreparable, emotional harm to your wife. I’d venture to say, Andrew, even more painful than the fallout you two had before you were married. You know your father and I don’t get involved in our children’s business, but, this time, I can’t sit back and stay out of it. This not only hurt her. Watching her being hurt by someone we love—you—hurts all of us as a family. And when that happens, it’s my responsibility as a parent to say something.”
“Mom-”
“Be quiet, you will hear what I have to say. Get your shit together, Andrew Knox. Step up and truly be a husband and a father. I’m not saying you don’t provide. You do. You’ve done very well in that regard. And, I’m not saying you don’t love Charly and the girls. What I am saying, is right now, your actions are disrespectful to them, to your brothers, and to your father and me. And you better be glad, I’m the one who had this conversation with you. Your father would have given you more than a smack and told you things I know you never want to hear—quit playing around, quit playing with your life, your family’s emotions, quit playing all these games, including baseball, and come home and be the husband and dad we know you are!”
Before he could respond, even agree with his mother on so many points, she gently kissed his head and walked away.
***
Charly took the few steps from the garage into the house slowly, still a bit sore, still a bit wobbly. She smiled at her girls. They refused to leave her side, clutching the hem of her shirt. In their little minds, they were helping, steadying her, playing nursemaid.
Andy settled a warm hand on her hip. His touch comforted but at the same time irritated her. Don’t dote. I’ll have to deal with this by myself when you leave. Heading toward their bedroom, she took a turn into her office.
“No, you don’t.” Andy steered her back in her original direction.
“I have things to do.”
“Whatever it is, can wait. C’mon, now.”
She wanted to plop into bed, but she knew that would be a bad, probably painful move. She lowered herself to the mattress. Andy stepped up and lifted her legs up on the comforter. How can I stay mad when he’s being so sweet?
The twins scrambled up on the bed, wanting to be close to their mother.
“No jumping, please,” Andy insisted.
“Ladies,” she addressed her girls, “would you go in the kitchen, get me a cup of ice and some soda? Just bring me the can, okay?” Her twins nodded, shimmied off the bed, and took off for the kitchen.
She didn’t want the attention but allowed him to take off her shoes, fluff pillows, and tuck a blanket in around her. Heading to put away her footwear, he stopped abruptly in front of the wall-mounted flat screen television.
He traced the crack in the panel, clearly an impact starburst, and followed the webbing of the glass with his fingers. “What happened to the TV?”
I don’t need this discussion right now, considering I still feel like hammered crap, but since you asked. “I broke it.”
“How?”
“When I flung the alarm clock at it.”
“I know you don’t like getting up for work some days, but that’s a bit extreme.” Slight entertainment colored his statement.
“No, I threw the clock at it two nights ago watching video of you nearly fucking Treena Cache. It was all over Sports Center. I’m surprised you didn’t see it.” Now get the fuck out of my sight before I throw something at you.
“Charly….”
“Don’t say anything.” She glared a hole right through him, watching guilty red creep up from the collar of his T-shirt and work its way up his neck, “I don’t want to have a conversation right now. I want to put my head down, rest a little, and cry because I lost another baby.”
“Char….”
Any beginning of explanation or apology stopped when Bree and Chloe returned to the room. One carried a plastic tumbler filled with ice, the other a can of soda in one hand and a box of crackers in the other.
“Here, Mommy.”
“And, you brought me crackers, too. Thank you, that’s so thoughtful, babies.” They crawled up on the bed again, tending to their mother.
“Mommy’s going to take a nap. You want to go to the store with me?” Andy asked.
“We’ll stay here with Mommy. She needs us,” Bree answered.
Charly watched as shock and sadness painted his face, his heart breaking with that answer.
Andy left the room to finally put away her shoes and mentally flog himself in a private setting. Returning to the bedroom, he looked at his bed, on it everything in the world he loved. But, it seemed, nothing that loved him right now.
He drove to the nearest grocery, went in, and walked out with staples: milk, bread, string cheese the girls liked, and Charly’s favorite wine. She won’t crack it for a few days, until she’s free of meds, but, yeah, she deserves to. Thankfully, he got in and out without being noticed. His phone pinged in the cup holder. “Please, let it be someone friendly,” he mumbled, Sighing, he was relieved when he saw Casey Rupp’s mug on the screen. “Casey!”
“Stopped by the hotel in K.C. Blake told me you were called home. Everything all right?”
Andy bit down hard on his bottom lip, holding in the emotion. No one but his wife knew how her miscarriages affected him. “Charly had another miscarriage.”
“Oh, man, I’m so sorry. How’s she doing?”
“She’s home. The girls are playing nurse.”
“Where are you?”
“Sitting in a Piggly Wiggly parking lot. Just ran to the store.”
“What’s going on, Knox, seriously.”
I can’t hide shit from you, can I? “Oh”—hearing the admission come from his own mouth made the situation even more dire—“I fucked up again.”
“That little video that’s all over the place?”
“I—”
“Andy, Andy, Andy….”
“I know.”
“You gotta—”
“Don’t tell me I have to make this right. Don’t you think I already know that?”
“We’ve had this conversation, Knox. Shit like this isn’t worth ruining a marriage over.”
“What am I missing here, Casey? Why do I put myself in these situations?”
“Seven year itch, boredom, the excitement of being”—Casey put on his best stadium announcer hat— “Andy Knox, shortstop, New York Titans. You seem to be buying into that New York shit, when you know you’re just a farmer’s kid from Sheboygan County. Only that farmer’s kid has a drop-dead gorgeous, smart as a whip wife who’s terribly in love with him and two little girls who adore the shit out of him. For some reason, he’s not returning the favor.”
He watched clouds brood over Lake Michigan, an August storm on the horizon.
“Andy?”
“I’m here.”
“Did you contact her?”
“Who?”
“Madame Eve and the 1Night Stand agency. I told you about it months ago. I’m telling you, she can help.”
***
“Bath time went well, and no fussing when I put them to bed.” Andy sat on the edge of the bed next to his wife. “Hopefully, they’ll sleep through the thunder.” He offered her a mug of tea, but she relieved him of his bottle of Spotted Cow beer instead. Beer and lorazepam? “Maybe you should—” The look she shot him shut him up immediately.
She took a few sips and then placed the bottle on the nightstand. “Is there anything else I should know, Andy?” Her voice came out slow, steady, devoid of emotion.
“About what?”
“About anything—about you, your life away from home, about why there may be a reason I shouldn’t trust you anymore?”
“Charly, I’m not sure what you me
an.”
“I mean, if you’re going to do ‘the dance’ you used to do only with me with someone else, and let the whole world see it, well I need to ask if there anything I should know. Anyone else on your ‘list,’ I need to know about? Will you be hooking up with Miranda Lambert sometime soon?”
“C’mon now.”
“What about my list? Wanna know who’s on my list?”
He contemplated stopping her when she reached for the beer, but thought better of it. He didn’t answer, just watched—the long pull on the ale, her gray eyes, stormy as the weather outside.
“I didn’t think so.”
Will playing this game make you feel better, Charly? “I do, tell me.” He moved closer to her on the bed, his legs resting against hers. “Who are your five?” He focused on her eyes. They weren’t tracking too precisely. Beer and meds….
“Well, number five, this cute guy I knew in high school. You might know him. Andy Knox?”
“C’mon, babe, don’t….”
“Number four,” she continued, “this guy I knew in college. We didn’t go to the same school, but we saw each other as much as we could. I think you were best buds with him. Andy Knox.”
He sighed, looking at his hands.
“Three, an amazingly hot shortstop for the Breakers. Great number, too—twenty-seven. KNOX on his back—broad shoulders, narrow hips, great ass. I think you know him—Andy Knox. Two, the handsome man I married, Andrew Knox.” Her voice cracked. “Number one, the father of my children.” Leaning toward him, she took his hand, squeezing to the point of discomfort. Tears cascaded along her cheeks. “Do you see why this is so hard for me? While your list has always been unattainable, you nearly fucked one of them live and in color! You’re now in a position to be in their presence, when the one person who is on my list, isn’t–” Releasing his hand, she uncovered herself, gingerly lifted herself from the bed, and disappeared into the bathroom.
The door clicked shut behind her, and his heart broke as he listened to her sobs.