by F. T. Zele
I always thought I was in control of my life. That I was responsible for what happens to me. I now know I’m responsible for how I react, not how others treat me.
What did I do to kill the love Jacob and I once shared? Could I have changed the way things were? If I were a better wife, would he have not gone on that trip, trying to get away from me by throwing himself into his work so much? All his late nights at the office come flying back into vision, wondering if he was ever really at his office. I was so trusting, never once thinking he was capable of turning into someone despicable. He opened our marriage for someone else to walk in and steal his heart away from me. That was the choice he made, and I can’t be held responsible for what he did.
I will never say I didn’t play my own role in what happened. I may have gotten too comfortable in my position of being his wife, falling into patterns that might have pushed him away. I know now to use those as learning lessons and not to be scared to take chances. Sitting idle only got me so far, but taking control of my life is something I’ve never done. So, who says I’m not strong enough to make what I want out of life happen?
Since I have always been one who lets the past define who I am today, I’m putting my foot down. I want to be happy, to feel cherished like I’m somebody’s forever. It’s time to prove I am strong enough to have that.
I’ve only got thirty minutes to make sure everything is in order before Liz arrives. My biggest worry as of right now is her getting out of her car. Once she pulls up to this space, she will surely recognize it. I parked my car in the back to hide it, so she wouldn’t see it and instantly turn around.
I set up lunch inside the building I purchased for the restaurant and have spent the morning overseeing the space being transformed into an inviting place, not just a stuffy building. Dusty dropcloths that once littered the floor have now been replaced by the biggest area rug that could be found in such a short amount of time. The caterer has made a makeshift cooking area in the back where the kitchen will be constructed.
I hired only one server to wait on us, so there won’t be a lot of people around. I have never begged someone to forgive me, and I don’t want an audience around when I potentially have to grovel. My nerves are shot, and I have this whole vision of how I want things to go, but knowing this is reality, it could go any way.
What makes me the most uncomfortable is having my mom here to listen to the shit I’ve done not only to her but others also. I want to be the amazing son she thinks I am, continuing to make her proud, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I walk into the back to check on the food.
“Hey, Chef Paul, how’s it coming in here?” I ask, inspecting the food trays.
“Right on schedule, Mr. Wright,” he says as he quickly chops some vegetables.
“Okay, well, I’m gonna get back out there. My guests should arrive soon. Thanks again for doing this on such short notice.”
“Anytime, hope you guys enjoy what I have planned.”
Walking away, I hear the city traffic, as the door clicks open. I turn the corner leading into the room and notice Mom and Barbara. I can tell Barbara helped Mom look extra special. Even though I think she’s the most stunning person I have ever seen, I’m sure with her deteriorating health, Mom feels less than adequate.
“Wow, Mom . . . you look great. Thanks for coming. Barbara.” I nod to Barbara, offering her my silent thank you. I walk over and wrap my arms around my mom, holding her petite frame tightly, not wanting to let her go.
“Braxton, this is such a nice setup. You really think this is going to persuade her into forgiving you?” she asks, eyeing me. I know she hates when I try to throw my money around for forgiveness factors.
“No, I don’t know, I hope. What I do know, though, is all this stuff,” I say, signaling around with my hands, “won’t make Liz mine. I just wanted something picturesque, worthy of her and you sitting here. It was torn up in here, and I had to make it decent since construction hasn’t started yet.” I check my watch and fucking hate that I’m nervous about Mom being unhappy with the way I have set this up. Liz should be here any moment.
I walk my mom over to the table, letting her lean on me to preserve her strength and pulling her chair out for her. “Take a seat, Mom. I don’t want you standing around.”
“Thanks, honey. When is she supposed to get here?” she asks slowly, starting to sound tired from walking the short distance.
“Her name is Liz, Mom, and any minute. I’m going to wait over by the door, and hopefully, grab her if she runs. I’m kidding.” I’m not kidding. She runs when things get too much for her. I just hope this isn’t too much.
“Barbara, there’s a seat for you. You can sit with Mom if you’d like.”
“Thank you. I’ll go sit with her, but I’ll let you guys be. I’ll just stand off to the side while you talk. I don’t want to be in the way,” she says before she heads over to the table.
I stand by the barely cracked front doors that are covered with paper so no one can see inside during the construction process. The moment her car finally pulls into the lot I get anxious. As she takes her time inside her car, my stomach drops, knowing she might not get out. She knows exactly where she is and realizes this is a setup.
I stop myself from heading to her car. This is a decision she’s going to have to make on her own. Sophie isn’t here to help her decide, and I won’t convince her to get out. If she does come inside, I will try to convince her to take another chance with me. I need to explain everything to her, let her know why I do things, and clearly, how fucking sorry I am.
Everything has felt off today. From the moment I woke up this morning, nothing has gone the way it usually does for me. Combine that with a long day filled with appointments, and I’m positive things are going to turn disastrous. Though, I keep pushing and completing things, trying my hardest not to fixate on the negatives.
Time for me to drive to my latest appointment, I type the address into my GPS and instantly recognize where I’m going. This is the building Braxton recently bought to build his restaurant. There’s no mistaking that. I drive there, thinking he wants to use my services, possibly to air a commercial for his new place, but I know that’s not it. I’m not that stupid.
As I pull into the parking lot, anger and frustration overtake me, recalling I told him on my own time I might come around. I feel forced to see him again, still conflicted over everything that has happened between us.
At this very moment, I want to pull out of this spot and get the hell away from something that is tearing me up inside. Braxton has told me on several occasions that I never deal with the problems at hand, but rather run away from them. Wanting to prove him wrong is what’s pushing me to actually get out of this car and see what he wants.
I finally open my door and grab my purse before making my way out of my car. I walk up the couple of steps to the doors and take a deep breath, trying hard to mentally prepare myself for what is about to take place. The second I open the door and walk through, my eyes land on Braxton standing there with his hands in his front pockets. He looks nervous, which is a look I’ve never seen on him, and it doesn’t fit him the way I know him. Where is the cocky guy who knows with one turn of the lip can get me, or hell, any other girl to do anything he wants? That’s something I’ve never been attracted to, but that’s secretly the one thing that had me hooked.
“Hi,” I say sheepishly.
“Hi, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay. So, what’s this all about? Did you really have to schedule an appointment to get me to see you?” I respond assertively.
“I did because I felt like I was running out of time, getting cut short of things I needed to show you before they’re taken from me,” he says as he looks over to the room.
I follow his eyes and notice this place is nothing like I remember it. It looks amazing with what he has done. As I continue to scan the room, I see a table, but am quickly put on the defensiv
e when I notice the woman he was with at the deli. Rage starts to build, and I don’t understand why she’s here. Isn’t it enough I had to watch them sharing a meal the other night? Now, she’s here, somewhere I was invited. I feel like I’m being punked and want to yell for the cameras to come out.
Not until after my internal struggle do I notice the woman sitting next to her. She has to be around fifty or sixty years old, and I can tell she’s Braxton’s mom just by the way his eyes light up when he glances at her. It’s the most precious thing I have ever seen, something I didn’t experience growing up.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“Come with me. Let me introduce you.” He reaches out his hand for me to take. I reluctantly grab it but keep up my guard, even though it feels like home.
“Liz, this is my mom, Jade, and her nurse, Barbara.”
Barbara stands, and I shake her hand. I notice Braxton’s mom struggling to get up, so I put a stop to it quickly. “No need to get up on my account. It’s very lovely to meet you two.” I extend my hand down to her, making sure she stays seated.
So many thoughts come rushing into my head after he introduces me. First, what an ass I am for getting jealous when I saw him with Barbara. If I had just walked over there and said hi instead of avoiding them, I would have caused myself less unwanted turmoil. Secondly, his bar is named after his mom. What an honorable thing to do. I can tell by their body language she means the world to him and vice versa.
“I have a chef in the back making us lunch. It should be ready soon. Wanna take a seat?” He pulls out a chair for me.
“Thank you,” I say as I sit down, not knowing what the hell is going on. I don’t understand why his mom is here, and I feel like an idiot sitting at this table completely clueless.
“Excuse me, guys. I have to make a phone call.” Barbara gets up and walks away from the table.
Cue the awkwardness with some really cheesy music.
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why did you invite me here, Braxton?” I ask sternly.
“I can apologize over and over for the way I treated you, but those are just words. I had to do something. Actions speak louder than words, and the only way I could get you to understand was by showing you why I am the way I am,” he says as he scoots forward in his chair, sitting up.
“What does that mean? You pretty much made things clear. Braxton, you don’t have to change who you are or apologize to fix this. You are who you are, no need to change because you have this silly notion it’s what you think I want,” I say with a nervous laugh. It’s a little uneasy talking about this while his mother sits here with us.
I really do want him to be the person I could see myself with. This little ray of hope plays at the back of my mind that he could be the person to share things with, to make me forget everything, and to help me learn to be me again, if not for the first time.
“I don’t want to change. I just don’t want to act like an asshole on purpose. I have to protect what I care about, and when I feel like something or someone is trying to take that away, it makes me act out,” he says while looking at his mom. “Look, I didn’t bring you here to persuade you to be with me. I brought you here to see me, the real me, and to let you get to know who I really am and why I acted the way I did. That’s it. I can’t make you forgive me, but I can try my fucking hardest.”
“Braxton, your mouth! It’s not helping your case,” his mom says as she rolls her eyes. It’s the cutest thing ever. She turns to me. “Liz, dear, I don’t want to get involved here. I can only imagine how uncomfortable this must be for you. I’m pretty biased when it comes to my son, but he is a great guy,” she says slowly while she breathes heavily between words. “It was really nice meeting you, but it’s time for me to go. I’m just not feeling too well right now, and I need to rest.”
“You aren’t going to stay and eat with us?” he asks.
“No, it’s not my place. You two need to talk, alone. No sense in making this more awkward than it already is. I just came to see who has gotten you all messed up about something.” She chuckles.
“All right.”
Braxton gets up to help his mother out of her chair. She walks over to me and whispers into my ear, “Give him a chance, dear. The sparkle in his eye when he told me about you was one I’ve been waiting to see. I hope to see you again soon.” She pats me on the shoulder.
“It was nice meeting you,” I tell her.
“Mom, do you want me to get you and Barbara some food to go?” he asks as he holds her arm while they start to walk away from the table.
“No, I’ll just get something at home.”
“Liz, I’m going to walk them to the car. Be right back.”
As I sit here alone, I think about this sweet delicate lady, and it’s hard not to let it affect me. Beyond her physical ailments, I see her caring son who looks like he would do anything to help ease her pain. The deep love shared between a mother and her child is something I have craved.
“I’m back,” Braxton announces as he walks back inside just as the server is walking toward the table with plates of food.
“This all looks delicious. You really didn’t have to go through the trouble,” I say as I inhale the aroma of this amazing food.
“Well, this chef is someone I’m interested in having join my team once the place is finally open, so I get to taste his food. It’s sort if an interview,” he states as he digs in.
“So . . .”
“Look, I just wanted you to come here and listen as I told you things most people don’t know about me. My mom means the world to me, and I’m the only one she has. She’s the reason I am who I am today. I work hard for her, making sure she has everything she needs and trying to keep her comfortable for the remainder of her time here.”
“I’m sorry, Braxton. She seems lovely,” I say, never taking my eyes away from him.
“My father was a drunk. He never cared and did nothing to provide for us. We lived off state assistance because my father was too busy drinking to take care of us. He used to beat my mom, and when she found out she was sick, he couldn’t have cared less. He deserted us, leaving me no other option but to make ends meet so my mom didn’t have to worry about that on top of her failing health. For a while, I was involved in shady stuff just to make enough money to pay the rent.” He stops, taking a sip of his water.
“Braxton, I had no clue. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I did what I had to do to be the man around the house. My mom took so many beatings protecting me, always taking the focus off me. There was no doubt she protected me like a mother should have done, so when she really needed me, I made sure she didn’t have to worry about anything other than taking care of herself.”
“I bet she’s very grateful to have a son like you.” I can’t help but feel jealous, though, as he sits here talking about his mother and her protectiveness. It’s foreign to me.
“Once I graduated from high school and had a little money saved, I invested into some businesses my friends were starting and turned a pretty decent profit. When I was finally old enough, I opened my first bar. Once I had it off the ground, I opened my second and made changes after learning what works. They both run successfully in another town.”
“Wow, I didn’t know you had other bars. So, are you not from here?” I ask, wanting to know more.
“I’m not. I moved here with the intention of starting fresh with my mom. Plus, knowing they have some of the world’s best doctors here, it was an easy choice. I opened Jade about a year and a half ago, then the one by your work recently, as you know. Out of all of them, Jade means the most to me.”
“Why name it Jade if it’s a bar, and your father left you guys because he had a problem with alcohol?” I ask, starting to become intrigued with all he is telling me.
“I named it after my mom, obviously. That was the first place I really went one hundred percent into alone. I did it for her. The money I make there goes toward not only everyday li
ving, but also her treatment. This needs to continue working so she has the comfort of nurses and medication.”
“So, what haven’t you told me? I know there’s something you’re holding back. I feel it.”
“I don’t get close to anybody because I don’t have the time to spend on anybody else. I don’t need anybody coming into my life trying to take my time away from my mom. When I feel like that’s what will happen, I push away, and that’s exactly what I did with you. I let my insecurities get the best of me, and I treated you like shit. I’m so sorry. I want to let you in. Every girl I have put a fraction of time into has never been able to deal with the attention I give to my mom. I won’t change for anybody. She is my priority.”
“The fact you think I would try to take you away from your mom infuriates me, and your idea I’m like any other girl kinda stings. You didn’t even give me a chance. What does your mom have? How long does she have?” I really hope I’m not crossing a line here by asking these questions.
“She has several issues. She was diagnosed with MS, but a rare form of it. She’s losing all her functions slowly. He muscles and organs are failing more rapidly now, which makes it difficult for her to breathe and walk. The medications have kept her going. They work for a while, but have to be changed once she starts building a tolerance to them, so it shocks her system. So, really, I have no clue how much longer she’ll be around, but I refuse to let a second go by without her knowing how much she means to me,” he says, and I swear the pain that is etched in his eyes breaks my heart.
“I’m glad you invited me here today to meet your mom.” I check the time, and it’s been a while. I really need some time to process all of this. “I need to head back to the office. Maybe we can talk more later when you have some time. I hate to leave like this, but I have a conference call.”