chapter eleven.
brix
“Mmm hmm. Yes, suh! This turkey is hitting just right,” Dad says. He’s sitting next to me. The womenfolk are sitting across from us. “I don’t know who catered this, but you were right, Brix. This is some down-home country cooking right here.”
“Sure is,” Mom says. “Everything’s good. I’m going to be ten pounds heavier when I get back home.”
“You ten pounds heavier now,” Dad mumbles. I heard him clearly. I hope mom didn’t.
“What you say, Dean?” she asks.
“I said this food is so good, it’s worth gaining an extra ten pounds.”
“You got that right!”
While they converse, I sit pretending to eat, but I’m staring across the table at Cyn.
Looking at her, I see our lives together play out in my mind.
I see the day we met. Our marriage. Our happiness.
The first time we kissed. The first time we made love.
Am I to believe that it’s over and done?
That all we have is pretentiousness? I know I asked her to do this, but now I see that it was a bad idea, especially after what happened last night.
She kissed me.
I didn’t make the move. She did. Something in her still wants me. That, I know for certain. Yet, when this is all said and done, she’s back to her apartment, and I’m back to the hospital as if my life isn’t in shambles.
Cyn clears her throat and grimaces a little.
The heat of my gaze finally got to her, I suppose, or maybe she’s trying to get me to engage with my parents so they don’t think anything’s up.
But I cannot break my trance with her. Does this woman still love me?
Is she in love with me? Is she seeing someone else?
Am I wasting my time while at the same time breaking my heart even more than it broke the day she packed a suitcase and walked away from me?
“It’s the macaroni and cheese for me, Pops,” she says.
“And the dressing,” my mother adds.
I still haven’t taken my eyes off Cyn.
Ignoring my gaze, she says, “The ham is sweet. I love sweet ham.”
“Me, too, Cyn,” Mother says with a mouthful.
My mother glances at me, then at Cyn, probably because she sees that I’m staring at Cyn, but I don’t care if she thinks something’s up.
This morning, she said I wasn’t there for her emotionally, which is partly true.
But as for her assertion that I wanted a trophy wife – I can’t believe she’d think that about me.
I didn’t parade her around. Show her off and then dump her when we got home, like I was done with her.
I simply don’t know how to manage my time, and because of it, my relationship suffered.
Before Mom starts questioning the reason for my silence, I say, “I’m glad we’re all here together because I want to let y’all know something.”
“What’s that?” Pops asks after he wipes his mouth and reaches for his glass.
“So, I’ve been working at the hospital for six years, and while I enjoy it, I’ve decided it’s time to move on.”
My eyes are still glued to Cyn while I’m talking. I say, “I’m going to start my own practice—a small family practice right here in Christenbury Hills.”
A small smile dons my wife’s cheeks. She’s genuinely happy for me. She had suggested I do that years ago – said it would be perfect for me, but I was too wrapped up in the hospital to give it any consideration.
“That’s good news,” Pops says.
“Well, wait, hold up now,” Mom says. Now she’s wiping her mouth. Can’t say I don’t know what to expect from her because I know what’s coming. She says, “Hold up a minute, now. What’s your thought process on this? That hospital has been good to you.”
“It has, but—”
“And do you realize how much money it takes to start your own business?”
“I do. I have savings, and—”
“So, you’re going to wipe out your savings to open a new business and start from the ground up. The hospital pays you well, Brixton.”
“Mother, if you would allow me to get a word in–”
“You were one of the few doctors there after that place opened. You made it what it is now.”
“I realize that, but—”
“I don’t think you do,” she says. “I’m not going to let you throw away your career. This is your life you’re talking about. What you went to college for. What you worked so hard for.”
“Mother,” I say as calmly as I can. “I didn’t say I was abandoning my career. I said I was starting my own practice. Did you hear me say that part?”
“Yeah, but Brix, it takes years to get a business off the ground.”
“Ma—”
“Most places operate in the red for the first five years. Is that what you want? To lose your house, and—”
I stand up, placing my hands behind my head. “Stop! Just stop!”
“Dear, let him speak,” my father says.
“I—I didn’t want to be a doctor to begin with. You wanted me to be a doctor, so I lived by your rules, Mother. I was the good son who did everything my parents wanted me to do, and look where that got me.”
“It got you this house,” she bellows.
“Yeah, this house with just me in it and a wife who hates me.”
They both frown while simultaneously turning to look at Cyn. I look at her, too, seeing the shock on her face. She wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t either, but it had to be said. I should’ve never put her in this position.
I continue, “Yeah, that’s right. We’re not even together anymore.
Cyn moved out at the start of the year, and you know what, I don’t blame her.
I was never here. Always at work. Work, work, work.
Our last anniversary, when I didn’t show up for the surprise anniversary party my wife planned for me—I’m sure y’all remember that—I was stuck at work.
It didn’t even occur to me to check my phone—to call Cyn and let her know I was running late.
I was in work mode. Everything and everyone else had to wait.
That’s what my life has become, and I’m not living like that anymore.
I see an opportunity to have a normal life, and I’m taking it, but all you have to say is how I have this house like I’m going to lose it.
Guess what, Ma? I don’t care if I lose it.
This house means nothing to me without my wife! ”
I take a moment to pull myself together.
After much needed breaths, I say, “I’ve been struggling with this for most of the year, and I’m not doing it anymore.
Going forward, when I tell you my plans, Mother, just know I’m not seeking your permission nor your blessing.
Those days are over. That goes for you, too, Pops.
I can’t keep living my life the way y’all want me to live it. I’m done.”
I leave the room after that. I’m not sure where my head is, and I don’t want to use them as an experiment to find out. I just needed to get out of there. I’m too angry to be rational.
I step outside for air, pulling in a refreshing amount into my lungs while thinking about the magnitude of what I just did.
I’ve never talked to my parents that way.
I’ve always been the obedient, respectful son – always have been – and I went off.
I’m mad at myself for raising my voice, but after years of pent-up frustration of always having to please them at the cost of my own aspirations, I couldn’t help how it came out.
I continue on to my car where I sit for a minute to collect myself. I recline the seat back and close my eyes. My head hurts as much as my heart. All of this is my fault. I should have never let it get this far.
About a half hour later, I drive to Delgatos – an upscale lounge.
I’m not surprised they’re open on Thanksgiving.
They always are. They market it as a getaway from family, something I desperately need at the moment.
A getaway and a drink. Drinking won’t cure anything, but it sure will take the edge off the evening I’ve had so far.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
I glance at my phone to see my father’s name on the display.
I don’t answer, and even that has me feeling guilty.
“Good evening. What can I get for you?” the bartender asks.
“Let me get a St-Rémy, neat.”
“You got it, boss.”
I sigh heavily while drowning in my state of affairs. When he comes back with my drink, I take a sip and think about how different my life would be if I followed the path I wanted to follow. Where exactly do I draw the line between being the loyal, respectful son and being the man I desire to be?
My father calls back. Reluctantly, I answer, “Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
“I had to get away for a minute.”
He sighs heavily and says, “Son, you know me and your mother want the best for you.”
“Yes, I know that.” I take a sip.
“I never wanted you to forgo your happiness to appease us. There’s nothing more agonizing and soul-depleting than living your life to please everyone else while you remain unhappy. And Cynnamon—my God. I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well…”
“You think you can salvage it?”
“I have to. I have no choice in the matter. She’s my wife. Nobody else can have her. I need to make sure I still have a chance.”
“Well, she was in tears when you left.”
“Where is she now?”
“Last I saw, she went upstairs. Look, maybe you should roll on back here so we can talk through some things. Your mom is upset, too.”
“Nah. It’s all good. Just get some sleep, Pops. You know me. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I got this. I’m doing things my way from here on out.”
“Alright. I’m here if you need me.”
“Appreciate that,” I say, then end the call, placing the phone on the bar next to my empty glass.