Starting From Broken

by F. T. Zele

  Yeah, I’m wimping out by leaving. I need to figure out my next step. The electricity still pulls me to him, the spark is there, and I would like for him to show me the real Braxton. It’s not going to be easy to let go of all my uncertainties with him, because he brings out the ugliest ones in me, but I can’t walk away from him. It’s time to give it chance and be happy with my decision. I just hope he doesn’t break my heart, because he holds it in the palm of his hand.

  “Sure, sorry I kept you so long. I’ll call you later, and maybe we can get together soon,” he says as he rises from his chair when I get up.

  “That sounds good, Braxton. Thank you for this great food and everything. Oh, I think the chef passed the interview. What do you think?” I say with a smile.

  “You’re welcome, and yeah, I think he’s hired. Glad you enjoyed it. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “It’s okay. You have a lot to do in here, and I’ll just let myself out. Talk to you soon?” I counter, as I make my way over to him and carefully wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. He places a kiss onto my forehead, and even though it isn’t an aggressive kiss, it feels just as nice.

  “Sooner rather than later,” he answers as I close the door behind me and head back to the office with one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever had on my face. I feel so . . . different now. Like things are finally looking up.

  After I left Braxton’s restaurant yesterday and finished everything at work, I went home with takeout and a bottle of wine and reflected on what had transpired during lunch. What can I take away from this experience and make of it?

  It was great meeting his mother, even if it was brief. I’m sure it was tough for him to put his pride aside and show me a part of himself he obviously likes to keep locked up like it doesn’t exist. The whole thing was terribly overwhelming. For a moment, I felt the need to run while all those revelations were being thrown my way.

  Ignoring the magnitude of what he was telling me and acting like it was insignificant were hard to do. It killed me to hold it down and not comfort him while I saw how much it hurt him to tell me his mother won’t be around much longer. For my own reasons, I had to stay back and let him get it off his chest.

  I want to know the man that was with me at lunch, but I also had a great time with the man he was before that dreadful night. I want to pretend that night never happened and move forward, hoping it was just a one-time thing.

  Once I get to work and settled in, I pick up my phone and shoot Braxton a text.

  Me: Thank you for yesterday. Sorry I had to leave so early.

  Thank goodness I don’t have to wait too long for his reply. While my nerves are clearly rattled taking this step, it does feel liberating taking control of my own decisions.

  Braxton: No need to thank me. Glad you stayed and heard me out.

  Me: I’m glad, too.

  Braxton: What’s on your agenda tonight?

  Me: Nothing much. Are you busy?

  Braxton: Want to do dinner?

  Me: Sounds great. What time are you thinking?

  Braxton: I have to check on my mom before anything, so let’s say 7ish.

  I know he said a large part of keeping his distance from other women was the fear of them trying to take him away from his mother, so I go out on a limb with my next text.

  Me: How about I pick up some food, and we can eat with your mom? We didn’t get enough time yesterday to really talk.

  Braxton: Really?

  Me: Yes, for sure. If you want to do that, it seems like fun.

  Braxton: Sounds like a plan. I’ll talk to you soon.

  Me: Okay, have a good day.

  Hoping he is okay with the plan and not just saying that because I offered, I am giddy about talking to his mom some more. She seemed incredibly nice, and I have this forceful feeling I need to get to know her some more. Who wouldn’t want to get to know the woman who holds such a special place in her son’s heart? Just the little bit I did talk to her, I could tell she’s a strong woman.

  Just like me, I start to think about dinner and what I should pick up, not knowing if she has a special diet to follow or if there’s something she doesn’t like. I want to make a good impression and not mess this up. I’m almost positive she left the lunch because the awkward tension could have been cut with a knife, and I don’t blame her.

  Pushing these thoughts out of my mind, I try not to get myself worked up and keep this positive attitude for tonight. Giving myself the power over choosing to get to know Braxton on a different level is exciting, and I’m eager to see where this will ultimately end up.

  Later in the day, I get a text from Braxton.

  Braxton: My mom doesn’t eat much meat. She has to eat more soft foods. Can you work with that? I’ll leave the rest up to you.

  Me: Okay, I’ll bring a bunch of stuff for us. Where am I going again?

  Braxton: My house. 5478 Lucile Pl.

  Me: I’ll be there around 6 pm.

  Braxton: Okay, see you soon.

  Once I leave work and drive around thinking about where I should grab food, it dawns on me that I can’t go to just one place. I make sure to stop everywhere I can think of to get a variety of stuff mainly for her, but for all of us to eat. After ordering from five different places, I have four soups, mashed potatoes, pasta salad, parfaits, and other items I can’t think of, plus some other stuff for Braxton and me. I may have gone overboard. When I arrive at Braxton’s house, I park my car in the driveway and struggle getting out with more bags than I can carry. Braxton comes out of the house just as I’m closing the car door with my foot.

  “What is all of this? Here, let me help you,” he says as he rushes over, taking bags out of my hands.

  “Thanks. I was about to fall.”

  “Did you really get all this food for tonight?” he asks with a chuckle that makes me laugh at how ridiculous I must seem.

  “Um . . . yeah, I didn’t know what your mom would like or want, so I basically got everything I could think of,” I say shyly.

  “Wow, I see about four different restaurant bags here.”

  “Well, five, and I think you have enough stuff for the week for you and her. I may have gotten too much.”

  “I would say so, but that was really sweet of you. You didn’t have to go through this much trouble.”

  “Well . . .”

  Nerves start taking over as we enter his house. Although I met his mom yesterday, I still get a little uneasy around new people. I don’t want her thinking I’m not good enough for her son, because secretly, I don’t think I am. There’s so much I’m hiding from him. Things I can’t imagine telling him. Things I just started learning to deal with and trying to forget. After two years, I have just gotten rid of Jacob’s stuff and finally started sleeping in my own clothes on my side of my bed.

  I follow Braxton into the kitchen as he places the bags onto the counter and then grabs plates and sets them onto the dining table. It’s nice to see him doing these domesticated things. He never struck me as someone who eats at home, let alone spends that much time here.

  “Let’s get my mom. She’s in the living room watching TV. She’ll be glad to see you.”

  “I don’t really know her, but I’m glad I get to talk to her some more. I’m sure she has embarrassing stories about you,” I say as I wink at him, trying hard to keep it light and fun. I don’t feel like getting into any more seriousness today. The other day was enough.

  “She was wondering if she would get to see you again after yesterday. I did explain what an asshole I was. She just wants to see me happy, and she knows you make me happy.”

  “Well, lead on. I’ll follow you.”

  We make our way into the living room where Jade is sitting in a recliner watching the news.

  “Hey, Mom. Liz is here. She brought dinner.”

  “Hi, Liz. How are you doing?” she asks.

  “I’m good, thank you. How are you?” Do you really ask someone who is sick how they’re doing
? I have never been in this position, and I feel like I should stop talking already.

  “I’m good, dear. Thank you for bringing dinner. I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble.”

  “Of course not. It was my pleasure,” I say honestly.

  “Mom, you ready to eat?” Braxton asks, walking over to where she’s sitting.

  “I sure am.”

  He helps her out of her chair and holds his arm out for her to latch onto as they make their way out of the room with me following. Once his mother and I are seated, he starts opening the containers of food.

  “I don’t know what’s here, but I can make out soup, mashed potatoes, and some sort of pasta. What do you want to start with?” he says, looking at all the choices.

  “I’ll have some soup and a little pasta. Thanks, dear.”

  “What about you, Liz?” he asks as he looks over to me.

  “I’ll grab mine. You get yours and your mom’s,” I reply, getting up from the table. I walk over to the counter, load my plate, and then sit back down. There is this moment of awkward silence, but it quickly diminishes once Jade starts the conversation.

  “So, Liz, what do you do?” she asks as she slowly takes a spoonful of soup.

  “I buy air time for commercials to run ads on TV. I love what I do, and I get to work with some great companies.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “It is.”

  “How did you and Braxton meet?” she questions, and I look at Braxton and laugh.

  “It’s actually a funny story. He was following me all around town. When he finally talked to me, I tried hard to blow him off, but he wouldn’t give up.” I start laughing, hard.

  “Oh, you know you were following me, coming to my bar, and looking for me. Mom, don’t listen to her. She was following me,” he chimes in.

  “Right . . . really, we just kept running into each other, until I ended up at one of his bars. Your son doesn’t take no for an answer and finally convinced me to go somewhere with him, and I guess the rest just kind of went like that.” Recalling how we met causes a huge smile to proudly display on my face.

  After we sit around chatting about unimportant things and have finished our dinner, his mom decides to call it a night.

  “Well, Liz, thank you for dinner. I’m glad we got to talk more this time. Your parents must be proud of the woman you’ve become. I’m headed to bed. Braxton, will you give me a hand?”

  Sadness hits me as soon as the words leave Jade’s lips, but I plaster on a happy face while I say goodnight to her. Plainly, she doesn’t know I don’t have parents. I’ve kept that a secret, and really, the only one who knows is Sophie. It’s not something I like to talk about. “Don’t mention it. It was my pleasure. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

  I sit, watching Braxton help his mother away from the table. I then start clearing the table, trying not to let all this get to me. I place the leftovers into the fridge and load the dishwasher with all our plates.

  “Hey there, would you like a glass of wine?” Braxton walks in, catching my attention just as I’m finishing.

  “Sure, that sounds good,” I say as I lean back onto the counter.

  “You didn’t have to clean all this up, but thank you,” he replies as he grabs some glasses, a bottle of wine, and a bottle opener. “Want to go out back?” He signals to the back door.

  “Yes.” I follow him out the back door and down a little path to a breathtaking backyard. He places the glasses and wine onto a small table next to a couple of chairs and flips a few switches, lighting a fire pit that has light green rocks in it. It’s definitely not your average fire pit with wood. Once he opens the wine and pours it into the glasses, he hands me mine and we sit by the fire.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why would you think something’s wrong?” I ask.

  “When my mom said goodnight, I could tell something she said upset you. It was written all over your face.”

  Carefully sipping my wine, not wanting to give anything away, I lie, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Liz, you may not know this, but your every emotion is displayed on your face, always. I can tell when something is bugging you or making you happy,” he says, carefully studying my face, looking for the truth. I never knew I was so easy to read.

  “It’s nothing . . . silly, really.”

  Grabbing my free hand, he talks to me, putting me at ease, “You can tell me. I know we’re getting back to a good place, and I want to know if something that’s said upsets you. I told you, I never want to see you upset again. You can trust me.”

  “Like I said, it’s silly. When your mom said my parents must be proud of me, I tried really hard to imagine what that would feel like. I don’t have parents. Well, I mean, obviously, I have parents. I’m here, right? I’ve just never met them. I was put up for adoption when I was a baby and lived most of my life in and out of foster homes, never having something so normal as to call people my family,” I say as I swallow past the lump building in the back of my throat and trying hard not to get any more upset.

  “I’m sorry, Liz. That must have been really hard growing up. I can’t imagine. I didn’t have a father figure around, but I’ve always had my mom.”

  “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. This is why I’ve never said anything about it before. Sophie is the only one who knows since she’s the only family I have. It’s okay, though. I work really hard trying to ignore that aspect of my life.”

  Feeling embarrassed, I don’t want him to pity poor old Liz with no parents. That is not something I like to deal with. I feel as though I’ve been through much worse later in life than not having parents.

  “I don’t feel sorry for you, Liz. It explains a lot to me, but the last thing I feel for you is pity. I think you’re an amazing person. For you to overcome something so emotionally upsetting is hard, and I wish I could say the same about myself. The anger I have for my father surfaces often. I wish it didn’t, but it’s the best I can do,” Braxton says as he rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. He continues to hold it, showing me that he’s here for me, and as small as an act it is, it’s enormously soothing.

  If he only knew what else I have had to overcome, I’m sure he would feel sorry for me, which is why I continue to keep my past hidden. Once he learns the truth, he will probably run in the opposite direction. Just the thought of telling him makes my heart tighten.

  “Let’s change the subject. No more depressing stuff for the night. I had a great time talking to your mom and hanging out. We should do it again,” I say, steering the conversation toward a positive place.

  “Anytime, you’re always welcome here. She had some really great things to say about you when I was walking her to her room.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

  “That she understands why it was so important to get you to forgive me. She thinks you’re a great person, and she said this is the happiest she has ever seen me. So, basically you’re stuck with me.” He nudges my shoulder playfully, giving a small laugh.

  “Well, for her sake, I guess I’ll stick around, for now. We’ll see how this goes, as long as you never pull that crap on me again.” I pause. “Does your mom live with you?” Curiosity has gotten the best of me.

  “She does, and so does Barbara. She has the room next to Mom’s since she’s her full-time nurse. She was in her room while we ate. I told her she was more than welcome to come out, but I think she’s just tired. She gets up at all hours of the night to check on my mom, so she wanted to rest. They moved in shortly after you came here the first time. They were in our old house, but it wasn’t big enough anymore. Mom needed a more open floor plan for when she uses her wheelchair.”

  “Wow, where has this Braxton been hiding? I thought you were the biggest tool out there. I’m really glad I’m getting to know this side of you.”

  “I’m glad you’re letting me show you this side of me,” he says as I
move closer to him on the oversized chair. I lean my head back, looking up to the sky as I inhale a huge breath and then slowly exhale. Closing my eyes, I feel at peace right now as Braxton places the sweetest kiss on the top of my head while we sit outside drinking our wine and enjoying each other’s company.

  I finally feel alive.

  I wake up the next morning, and the memories from last night start flooding my mind, making it easier to wake up in a good mood and anticipating the next time I get to see Liz.

  After dinner last night, we went out back and sat around the fire pit with some wine. I was pleasantly surprised when Liz trusted me enough to let me in a tiny bit. When she revealed she grew up without parents and was thrown from one foster home to the next, it broke my heart. The embarrassment I saw etched on her face was enough to bring me to my knees. It wasn’t easy for me to tell her about my past, so I understood her discomfort.

  Telling her I didn’t feel sorry for her was the truth, but saying I didn’t feel something would make me soulless. There was more to what she was telling me. I know because I found the note that night in her trash can. I tried hard not to give it away by keeping my attention on her words. I didn’t want to push her, but wanted her to feel comfortable on her own to tell me, so I never asked. I hope that sometime soon she will reveal it all to me.

  When we finished talking, she felt closer to me and dosed off tucked perfectly against my side with her head resting on my chest. It took everything I had not to be the person I used to be, keeping the gnawing feeling in the back of my head to run my hands gently up her body. Believe me, I wanted to. Just the warmth of her body made my dick stir in my pants. I kept the desire at bay, waiting for the right time to be able to feel her again.

  I didn’t want to wake her, but I didn’t want her driving home late either. Mostly, I didn’t want her to get spooked with how close we were, whether it be physically or emotionally. Call it my own self-doubt, but I wanted to keep her as close as possible for as long as I could. Things have been good—kind of like the calm before the storm—and I’m waiting for when they get messed up again. So, selfishly, I let the warmth of her body envelop me until it was late.