Chapter 8: Traveling Solo
After the drug lust wore off, it became clear that everything I’d been doing and seeking were poor attempts to escape the reality I was living in. The only plausible solution was to change my reality. Somehow. Someway.
I thought the best place to start might be to remove myself from the world of grief I’d been consumed by and connect with someone far removed from it all. So I reached out to Broderick. I hadn’t been to his place in a few years, making me long overdue for a visit. I didn’t explain what was going on, but he likely suspected I was running away from something. He knew me at least that well. Just as I knew him well enough to expect a few completely solo days out west due to his undoubtedly busy work schedule. But I knew simply getting out of town for a while would be enough to help me view life and loss from a different lens.
By the time I left for Portland, Nate and I were like strangers passing in the night. We’d been living near-opposite schedules for months and he spent most of his free time at the gym or dojo. I wasn’t sure whether he was searching for clarity or training for something. Either way, I figured I was free to stay at Broderick’s for as long as I wanted without Nate caring much, so I bought a one-way ticket out west.
Upon landing, I was unexpectedly greeted by the car Broderick had sent for me. I’d planned on taking the bus to his condo, but his gift of a much shorter commute was greatly appreciated after the long day of travel.
I arrived at Broderick’s place late in the afternoon and had an hour or so to get settled in before he was expected from the office. His home—his whole city, really—were stark contrasts to the Florida lifestyle I’d gotten used to. And I loved every bit of it. The architecture had a cool northwest vibe that was unparalleled back home and of which looked even more interesting amongst the clusters of pine and fir trees. Tall buildings, bustling bridgeways, and charming signs in the city’s center, all surrounded by varying elevations of hearty trees and well-worn hiking trails was absolutely magnificent to me. All were spectacular sites for my beach-stained eyes. Even the smell of the air reminded me how much I missed visiting Portland. At the time, Florida paled in my comparisons. It’s primarily flat, chronically humid, and filled with palm trees. I’d honestly contracted island fever from living there even though it’s only a peninsula.
The cityscape wasn’t the only difference. Broderick’s condo also captivated me. It was on the twelfth floor of a modern industrial building that embraced the outdoors through an entire wall of windows. His unit overlooked a park with a baseball field, which lent a laid-back playfulness to an otherwise upscale space. The wood floors were rich and luxurious and complimented the colder concrete ceiling brilliantly. And the open floor plan enabled nearly all the stylish decor to be seen from a single vantage point. Broderick bought it fully furnished, so I found myself lost in a daydream wondering who was the mastermind behind such an inviting interior.
I alternated between drinking in the views of the tree-speckled cityscape and the inside of his home for a short while before I felt some life being breathed back into me. My body was actually relaxed enough to take a long, deep breath. It was obvious I’d made the right decision to get away for a while.
Broderick returned from work while I was unpacking my bags in the spare bedroom. When I heard the door open, I hurried into the main living area like a loyal dog greeting its human after a lonely day apart. I was so happy to see his friendly face.
During our warm embrace, I had the sudden urge to leave my cares behind by being a different version of myself than I’d been back home. A more lighthearted and free version. I may have subconsciously done it to some degree in the past but, in that moment, there was an acute awareness of what I was doing. With that, I covertly slipped off my wedding ring before loosening my hold of Broderick.
I thanked him several times for sending the car to the airport before we moved on to discussing the rest of my travels and his workday. Our conversation shifted course countless times before we finally noticed the clock. It was approaching 7:30pm. We were both too tired to go out for dinner, so we opted to order in from a nearby Thai restaurant. That also allowed us to continue our chat over a few drinks while lounging comfortably on the couch. It was the perfect way to spend my first night in Portland.
After we inhaled our presumably delicious meals, Broderick restarted the conversation with a cool, collected expression and, “I was going to wait until I had more information before I said anything, but you’re here now…,” his eyes grew cautious, yet bright, “I have the opportunity to practice in Florida and I’m thinking about taking it.” He peered out of the corner of his eye to observe my reaction.
I’m not sure if he heard it, but there was an audible sound when my jaw dropped, leaving little more than an unsightly, gaping mouth hole staring back at him.
He laughed and continued, “Remember how I also took the Florida bar since mom had moved there when I was in law school?”
I was still so stunned by what I’d been hearing that all I could do was eagerly nod and use hand gestures to draw out more details.
“I’d be working with the same boss, in a way, and I’d be a lot closer to my mom...” After a brief pause, “She’s not getting any younger,” which was accompanied by a light chuckle and another swig of his drink.
I grinned knowing none of us were getting any younger, then asked, “But is it what you want?”
“I don’t relish the idea of moving somewhere new. Where I don’t know many people. But it would be great to have a fresh start. Not to mention live closer to the beach again. I miss that,” he shared with sweet vulnerability.
Not realizing it would force the conversation to take a turn, I recalled, “That was your original plan, wasn’t it? To go to law school near the beach. Oh, and to study criminal law!” My brief walk down memory lane kicked up more than just pebbles. “But you moved to the mountains to study environmental law. Huh...” My confusion about his change in career paths was written all over my face. Even halfway to inebriated, I was able to realize that. “I can’t believe we’ve never talked about that before.”
Broderick tried to hide a wince by getting up from the couch with his leftovers in hand.
Realizing I’d triggered something within him, I called out, “I’m sorry. You never really spoke about it and I was—“
“It’s fine,” he stated calmly, “are you done with that?” he asked as he gestured to my Pad Thai.
I placed the lid on my takeout container and leaned over to hand it to him. “Again, I’m sorry. You know you can talk to me about anything, though. Right?”
“It’s not that,” he said as he walked into the kitchen. “I just don’t want to bring up the past,” he mumbled while his head was in the fridge.
“You know my mind will create thoughts and scenarios waaaay worse than anything you’re likely to share, right? Do the humane thing and put me out of my misery,” I playfully shouted to lighten the mood.
After carefully choosing his words, he finally responded, “It was your face. You know… that morning,” he said softly as his face grew pale and grim. He shifted his gaze from where I’d been sitting to somewhere out the window behind me. He crossed his arms and lowered his voice to a nearly inaudible volume before continuing, “I didn’t want the weight of that kind of justice.”
His confession, however calm and composed, was overwhelming for me to hear. I was mortified that the same monster who’d stolen part of my life had forever changed the course of Broderick’s, too. I had no control over the tears that ran down my cheeks.
I wiped my tears on my long sleeves and muttered whatever words I could come up with. They were all apologetic in nature, but I’m not sure they were coherent.
“I’m sorry, Candace. I never wanted to say anything,” he said as he walked towards me.
I stood up from the couch with outstretched arms to keep him from getting too close while I processed what had just unfolded.
He didn’t take another step closer. Then he spoke with gentle authority, “I’m happy with my life. I love working for the environment… making a difference. That’s all I’d ever wanted. You know that, right?”
I nodded in agreement. I believed him but still felt humiliated. Humiliated that something from my life had changed the course of his, and that I was just finding out about it. “I’m sorry you’ve been holding onto that all these years. Thanks for telling me.” I said as I wiped the fresh tears on my sleeve and choked back the ones that were starting to form. I motioned to the master suite and asked, “Would you mind if I use your shower?”
“Sure. You know where it is,” he said with notable disappointment in his voice.
I entered the shower in a mental fog and immediately ran through the conversation that had just taken place. Then I went through it again. And, once more for good measure. Emotions ranged from upset and disturbed to numb and understanding. I even talked myself into feeling something resembling appreciation for that singular aspect of the horrific situation. I filled my mind with alternative scenarios where Broderick hadn’t learned so early on that his dream career wasn’t a good fit for him. Maybe it was meant to be for him to come face-to-face with something powerful enough to trigger that catharsis before his career path was set in motion.
How I steered myself to such a mature mindset in such a short amount of time was beyond me. I’m sure the alcohol and high altitude helped with it, though.
By the time I was finished with my unusually long shower, I felt better about the reason things happened the way they did- for Broderick, anyway. I still didn’t love that he’d never told me before, but I understood his point of view and had tremendous respect for how he chose to let his experience shape his life.
After putting on some yoga pants and a clean long-sleeved shirt, I walked into the living room where Broderick was sitting. Before I could say anything, he asked, “Feel better?”
“Much. Thank you,” I said with a small, but genuine smile.