Broken Play, page 19
We’ve always lived frugally compared to how we could. Drew isn’t the only one who doesn’t splurge. I shop, don’t get me wrong, but I stick to the lower ends of the designer scales. I don’t have a closet full of Louboutin or Hermes.
These papers give me an even higher percentage of all our savings.
If I excuse the ridiculous financial aspect of these divorce papers, I’m still at a loss for words on these properties. Why does he own so many, and why don’t I know about them?
“Are these his fuck pads?” I ask Reed.
“June!” my mother scolds.
Reed scoffs but doesn’t say no.
“Oh my God. Is he giving me houses he takes his girlfriend to?”
“That can’t be right,” my mom says.
“We’re going. Right now.” I grab my handbag from the side table and head for the door.
“Ju, maybe you could get dressed first, yeah?” Reed says.
I look down to see I’m still in my pajamas.
“Fine!” I stomp off to my room, slamming the door behind me.
Twenty minutes later, I’m fully clothed and ensconced in a hired car with my mom and Reed. The properties listed in New Orleans have addresses next to each other in the Garden District. It’s not a long drive, but long enough for my mind to wander as we pass by one beautiful old house after another.
This area isn’t one I’ve spent too much time in. I’ve come to visit the cemetery, eaten at Commander’s Palace, and walked around the neighborhoods some, but never for very long. It’s beautiful. Alive with the same Crescent City charm you find in the French Quarter. Yet, nothing at all like it. It’s quieter, only a few pedestrians out strolling at this time of day. The houses are grander, the gardens larger and more mature.
I can see why Drew, and Noah, would choose to buy here. It would be a great spot to live, to raise a family, to grow old with the ones you love.
This isn’t a neighborhood you come to for one hot night with your mistress. Maybe I jumped to a ridiculous assumption. Of course I did.
Maybe I need a lobotomy. This brain of mine is fried.
The car stops in front of a Greek Revival Creole cottage. It’s painted robin’s egg blue, with clean white shutters framing each large window. The landscape has been freshly tended with mowed grass and trimmed shrubs.
There are two sunny yellow doors, one marked with the letter A, one with the letter B.
I exit the car and don’t wait for Reed as he tends to the driver, or for my mom to catch up. There’s an aged and patinaed fence surrounding the property with a narrow gate along the walkway, allowing entrance to the front porch.
Lifting the latch, I walk up to the front door with the A, less and less confident in my initial idea the closer I get.
Another envelope awaits me. This one is small and white, taped to the front door. My name written in Drew’s telltale messy script.
I pull the tab open as Reed and my mother catch up with me.
“What’s that?” Mom asks.
I hand her the envelope, then unfold the small note.
Junie,
If you haven’t yet, go to the other address first. You’ll find more information there.
I love you,
Drew
I hand the note to my mom and start walking again. They follow, hypothesizing all the way along the short walk out of this yard and into the next. The homes both sit on St. Charles and the streetcar approaching is the soundtrack currently playing along with the rapid beat of my heart.
A magnificent center hall home greets me. It’s desperately in need of love and attention, but that doesn’t detract from how fabulous it is. She’s a gorgeous, white, majestic queen that’s stood the test of time. A wide porch covers the entire front of the house on both the lower and upper levels. With tall columns stretching to the roof that make her look even taller than she truly is.
The walkway is lined with jasmine bushes on either side, and I imagine what it would smell like in the warmth of late spring as I walk along the path.
“Nicely played, Drew,” Reed mutters behind me amusedly.
There’s yet another envelope taped to the peeling red door, my name decorating this one as well.
Junie,
I knew you’d come here as soon as you looked through the papers. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in person. They were always meant to be a surprise. A gift I’d give to you when I retired and had the time to indulge all your dreams with the attention they deserve.
I started buying the properties a few years ago. They’re ready for you to do what you will with them. They’re all reportedly haunted, except the one next door. All need a lot of work, but I know that’s what you wanted.
This is the newest purchase and was the hardest to get. But when I saw the listing, I knew it was meant to be yours.
I snagged the duplex next door when I was closing on this property. I’ve had a contractor in there to make all necessary repairs, so it’s ready for our family to move in. I bought it for them. One half for Love and Larry, the other for Reed and Mom.
I knew you’d want them to have their own space close by. I also knew Leighton would never do this on her own. So, I made the decision for her because I’m a controlling asshole like that. I’m sure she’ll agree.
Whatever you decide, I know you’ll make this a home.
All doors open with your dad’s birth date.
I love you, Junie. Always.
Drew
Holy. Hell.
My hand falls to my side, the note dangling from fingers I can’t seem to get control of today. Mom gently removes it. By the time she’s done reading it, her face is covered in silent tears.
“Oh, my boy,” she cries.
I can’t bring myself to press in the code. One side of my heart is full of love for this ridiculously grand gesture. The other half—okay much less than half because holy hell this is amazing—wonders about the timing of it all. Handing me divorce papers in the morning and gifting me a dream right after is heavy-handed, any day of the week.
Except, holy hell, he bought my family homes, too.
“Do you want to go in?” Mom asks.
I do. Also, I don’t want to at all. This is a house you make a home.
I don’t want to make plans for a home until I know if I’m making it for myself or for us. If this is to be our home, I don’t want to enter it for the first time without him. I want him there while I imagine what color to paint the walls, which furniture goes where, what can be restored and what needs replacing.
If this ends up mine and mine alone, I won’t be keeping Drew’s taste in mind while I make those plans.
“No,” I answer her.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Reed! Language.”
“I’m serious. Maybe I’ll explain later, but right now let’s go see your place.”
“I’m not moving, no matter what Drew’s note says,” he grumbles.
Reed has taken so well to his hipster lifestyle in Seattle, his comment doesn’t surprise me. It’s bullshit, though. If Drew and I weren’t in Seattle, he wouldn’t be either. He’ll always follow us. If we’re in the same place, that is.
One of these days, I’ll have to admit I still see my future with Drew. That day isn’t today. Today I still feel the bitter sting of Lorelai. It’s dulled some, but not enough. I want to trust my husband; I want to forgive him. Two things that take a lot more time than what I’ve had.
“Let’s call Leighton. She and Larry should be here,” my mom says.
I hit Love’s contact and when she answers, I ask how quickly she can get here, but I leave out the reason why. She needs twenty minutes, so we sit on the porch step and wait, not wanting to go in without them.
This gift should be given by Drew. Even if I understand that he’s giving me control, he should be here to see their faces when they walk in. With that in mind, I decide to record it with my phone, and I have it ready when they pull up.
“What’s going on?” Love asks, concern and confusion taking over her features when she sets her sights on me.
“Oh my God, so much I don’t even know where to start,” I say.
“How about by telling me where we are?”
“That’s not such a simple answer. This morning Drew handed me divorce papers,” I begin but am stopped by her reaction to that news.
“That dumb fucker!”
Mom lets out a scandalized gasp, but let’s be honest, she’s heard worse from all of us before. It’s just a game she plays, and we all allow it. It’s kind of adorable.
Larry only nods in agreement with his daughter. What can I say? The man loves me.
“He doesn’t want me to sign them, I don’t think. His words were something along the lines of letting me hold all the cards. Whether we’re done for good, we try again, or divorce and he has to woo me all over—it’s all up to me.”
“Wow, that’s some diabolical crazy shit.”
“Thank you! Mom thinks it’s romantic.”
“Who said diabolical crazy shit isn’t romantic? Not me.” Love laughs. I sigh, and she ignores it. “That doesn’t explain why we’re here.”
“He bought me that house,” I say, pointing next door, “and a handful of others.”
“What?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and unlock it. Hitting record, I point it at her.
“He bought this duplex for our family. You and Larry get a side, Reed and Mom the other.”
Squeals loud enough to wake the dead at Lafayette Cemetery down the street fill the air. Regardless of all my strange feelings or misgivings, I can’t help but love her excitement. Larry looks shell-shocked. I go to stand next to him, wrapping my free arm around him, and rest my head on his shoulder.
“He said he knew I’d want you all close,” I say just loud enough for him to hear over the tall blond bombshell currently celebrating on the small front lawn.
“In different circumstances, I’d tell you he’s a good man. In this situation, I’m going to tell you that he’s got a good heart, but you need to smack that brain of his around a little. You hear me?”
“I hear you, Larry,” I say with a genuine smile.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go in! What side is mine?” Leighton asks Reed.
“I have no idea, but I’m going to say mine is the better side,” Reed says.
“No way, you don’t even live in this city. I should get the better side,” she protests.
“Bullshit, I’m his best friend and his brother-in-law. That gives me all the power here, blondie.”
While they continue their argument, I step up to door A and punch in the code. I don’t enter, just open the door wide, then go do the same to door B.
Leighton rushes into the first door and like I knew he would, Reed follows. Still smiling, I choose the second door.
It opens to a small living room. I walk through it to find an eat-in kitchen complete with new appliances, at the back of the house. There is a small bathroom off to the side that also houses a washer and dryer. Another door leads to a shared backyard and detached garage. It’s all very clean and has been updated in the last couple of years. Fresh white paint covers the walls. The floors, which all look original, have been refinished and are a beautiful dark mahogany. A fireplace grounds everything with floor-to-ceiling exposed brick.
I take the stairs up as Larry and Mom enter through the front door, finally deciding to take a gander of their own.
Above stairs holds two bedrooms. One sits in the front of the house, the other in the back, a large bathroom connecting the two. The rooms are good sized and the one in the front has a fair-sized closet and a second fireplace, giving the room more character. The walls here are all white as well, leaving a blank canvas for Leighton. Or Reed.
I can picture her here. Her eclectic taste spilling into each corner of every room. With the second room set up as a home office and guest room combination. It would sure be nice for Larry to be able to stay with her on his visits, instead of a hotel.
I head back downstairs and toward the other unit, noting that Mom and Larry are in the backyard.
It’s surprisingly quiet when I walk into unit A. The layout is identical to the other side, and so are the finishes. Doesn’t seem like they’ll have much to argue over. They’ll create something if they can’t find it. Of that, I’m sure.
I walk up the stairs, listening for my brother and best friend. I’m about to turn to the left, to the front bedroom, when I hear them.
“Kiss me, Reed.”
“Hard pass. Thanks.”
“You’ve done it before. I don’t know why you’re so scared now.”
“I’m not scared, blondie, I’m repulsed.”
Leighton gives a loud huff and I promptly retrace my steps back down the stairs and out the back door. Reed kissing her in the past is news to me. While I’m nosey as hell about it, I won’t pry. They’ll tell me about it when they want to.
For now, I’ll play the fool. After all, I’m quite good at that.
18
JUNE
Everything shifts after Christmas. Drew keeps in constant contact, checking in regularly throughout the day, as his schedule allows. Each night, he calls. It’s how we’ve ended every night since he flew back home.
Drew focuses the conversations on me, mostly. Taking a newfound interest in my career. Not that he wasn’t invested in it before. Examining it with fresh eyes, I know that it was always me who pushed it off for his benefit. He’d grumble about me making sacrifices for him, but he’d always relent because it’s what made me happy.
I discussed that with Rebecca this week. My need to take personal responsibilities. The brunt of our marital problems lies with Drew. I won’t transfer those onto myself, but I won’t blame him for the decisions I made freely, either.
In any case, it’s nice to have so much of his attention. It reminds me of the early days of our marriage, when I was still recovering, and he doted on me. I think we both took advantage of each other then. I leaned on him more than I should have. He used my mental health issues to avoid the larger problems.
Despite our current situation, our relationship over the past week feels healthier than it ever has before.
He does ask me about Noah, and I don’t omit anything. I don’t give the finer details of my time spent with him, but I give enough for Drew to understand the nature. I’ve not spent another night with Noah, not like that first, where I was utterly spent and passed out in his arms. We do, however, talk often about sex, desires, needs. Noah’s willing to help me understand the things Drew is still hesitant to share with me. Or the things I feel too vulnerable to bring up with Drew.
Those things comprise a lengthy list. Noah is delicate with me, thoughtfully giving me information I desire to have, but never pushing past the limits he’s set. He encourages me more and more to talk to Drew. Every day, that gets the tiniest bit easier. Every day, I get the tiniest bit closer to acceptance, if not forgiveness. I’m not there yet.
Years could be spent with me worrying about why there continues to be a divide between us. That’s a hole I try very hard not to fall into. Knowing Drew is trying to sort it all out before he shares it with me, is all I can hope for.
Noah helps fill that gap for me. Patiently describing to me the things he likes and why, tutoring me on the acts I can do that would bring Noah pleasure, and therefore, possibly Drew, too.
It’s all so surreal. Like I’m living in an alternate dimension. Yet, it’s working. I grow stronger and less depressed by the day. So, I ignore the strangeness of being a sexual apprentice of sorts to a friend I hold dear.
And I do hold him dear. Noah is an invaluable presence in my life. There have not been any more naked petting times between us. He knows that the conversations I had, the reactions I had, with Drew over the holiday changed my trajectory. That doesn’t mean he’s stopped his affection outright. He’s still keen on holding me, comforting me, after we’ve had a long talk. That’s for him as much as it is for me, and I’m happy to be able to give it to him.
New Year’s Eve with his family was a great time. Leighton went with and hit it off with Noah’s brother, Connor, who’s only a slightly smaller and darker version of Noah. Leighton didn’t say, but I suspect they spent the night together. Since she was quiet about it, it means she likes him more than she wants to admit. She’s always been an open book about men she sees as nothing more than a good time.
Drew is careful not to comment negatively when I tell him of my talks with Noah. They make him uncomfortable and boorish, but he understands I’m doing it for the purpose of better understanding him. Until he’s here, until we’re both willing to have these talks with each other, he bites his tongue.
Sort of, anyway. He doesn’t have to say words. I understand his silence, his sighs, his quiet, frustrated groans all the same.
What can he say? He, too, found someone else to fulfill a part of life he wasn’t willing to fulfill with me.
He’s asked me to fly home for his last game of the season. I’ve agreed, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Of course I want to see him play. I miss that more than I can say. It’s the other wives and girlfriends that I don’t particularly want to encounter. Suffering through it won’t be pleasant, but I’ll do it for him.
It will be a quick trip, as our first live segment airs in only three days. This week, we filmed a couple of the stories, and I must say, I’m enjoying it even more than I anticipated. Which is telling, since I expected to like it very much. I’ve never been so satisfied by work before, so proud of what I’m doing.
Maybe to some, that would sound superficial. I’m just a cohost of a show to promote a sporting event, if you break it down to simple terms. Yet, the stories they’re encouraging us to share speak to the heart of the city. Stories that don’t get such national coverage most days.
My trip to the abandoned Six Flags, for instance, prompted Noah and me to dig further into the story. We brought in the people who had made a documentary of it not long ago and helped develop the story further. We’re hoping the coverage prompts some pushback to help the property owners who are suffering from depleted home values due to the giant eyesore.
