Making of a Kept Woman

chapter 3

Chapter 3: Seeking Clarity

A few days after I’d declared my need for time away to sort through life, an old friend reached out. Broderick and I had known each other since ninth grade and had become family over the years. Despite his living on the west coast since law school, I was nearly as close to him as I was my husband- romance was the only distinction.

He had news that he was coming to Florida to help his mom move. It was a relatively unexpected trip since her property sold in record time, but Broderick hoped I’d be able to join them for a few days. He promised manual labor wouldn’t be required, and sweetened the invite with food. His mom, Angel, volunteered to make her famous lemon-kissed fettuccine and triple chocolate brownies for anyone who stopped by. We both knew bribery wasn’t necessary, but I loved the idea of sharing a meal with them again. It’d been about a year since I’d spent time with Broderick, and several for Angel. We were long overdue for some quality time together.

By the end of the following week, I traveled to Angel’s. The long ride was a comforting departure from the otherwise constant rumination. I was grateful my mind was too focused on driving and singing along with the radio to overindulge. Her neighborhood was another respite for my senses. It was charming and somehow felt like home even though I’d never been there before.

There must’ve been ten minutes of hugs and questions about how I’d been before we made it fully inside the house. Memories of the three of us in Broderick’s childhood home came flooding back in no time. I couldn’t believe that was nearly fifteen years earlier. ::Mind blown:: Life creeps past day by day and before any of us realizes, a decade has passed— then a decade more. We’d all grown noticeably older and possibly a little worse for wear during those years, but we still fit like family.

Angel was in her late fifties and still practiced nursing. She’d moved to Florida when Broderick was in college with the intention of adopting a more relaxed lifestyle. That translated to working one full-time job instead of juggling multiple like she had for many years. Baby steps, I guess.   

Sadly, Broderick’s dad died while on deployment. That made their mother-son bond stronger than most, though. Angel’s dedication and sacrifices were the driving force behind Broderick’s success. He worked hard, saved, and invested wisely with the hope of affording each of them a more comfortable life. His mom did fine on her own, but Broderick took pleasure in treating her to things she wouldn’t splurge on- like her house. This move was more than a change of address; it was a token of Broderick’s gratitude. He wanted Angel to be free from financial burden and general upkeep, so he bought her a home where much was included. It was heartwarming. I couldn’t imagine two people more deserving of this precious experience.

Angel was so proud of her only child that she couldn’t help but boast. She shared how Broderick pushed for a larger house to allow for hobbies in retirement, but she’d insisted on a more manageable space. The love and pride emanating from her concealed the effects of a lifetime spent caring for others. 

We sat at the kitchen table for a couple of hours talking about where life had led each of us and the new chapters we were starting. My thoughtfully curated highlight reel turned to knots in my stomach when they asked how Nate was doing. I didn’t want to discuss my marriage while I was still figuring it out, but I also didn’t want to lie by omission. Discomfort had me shifting in my seat and twirling my long hair around my fingers. I excused myself by saying the long drive had tired me out. Angel showed me to the bedroom she’d put together and noted which boxes had bath towels, extra blankets, etc. She made me feel as comfortable as ever- even given the circumstances.

I took a shower to wash away the emotional filth, then returned to my guestroom for the evening. While I was wrangling my sopping wet hair, there was a knock on my door. Then I heard Broderick clear his throat on the other side. I called him in from across the room and continued my hair routine. He made his way to the bed and sat at the foot of it the way he’d done a thousand times before. It felt as if no time had passed since we were teenagers.

As I applied oil and cream to my mane to help control the frizz that would otherwise appear by morning, I sensed Broderick’s energy deepen as I focused on anything but him. “It’s just you and me now, Candace. Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked as only he could. He used my given name, too, so I knew he meant business.

I really didn’t want to talk about my marriage until I’d been able to make sense of things, but there was no getting around it. Broderick could always tell when I was hiding something. He’d known me for about twenty years at that point and we’d shared too much history for him to watch me spin my wheels without trying to help.

He continued, “You got squirrely as soon as mom—”

“Fine, we’ll talk,” I said softly, “but I’m too sober right now,” I tried to delay the inevitable. I still couldn’t look directly at him, so the only eye contact we had was through the mirror while I fussed with my hair.

With that, Broderick swiftly left the room. He returned with a beer in one hand and spiked lemonade in the other. He offered me the latter with, “Drink up, Candie.”

There it was—the nickname he knew drove me crazy. I thought it made me sound like a stripper, so I hated when he called me that. But it did change the energy of the room. Bless him for that. It brought us back to our high school days of complaining about teachers, homework, or something even more trivial.  

I guzzled my cocktail in three large gulps before ever looking him in the eyes. When I did, though, my shoulders relaxed and a warm wave washed over me. His presence was calming (when he wasn’t grilling me). I gradually divulged how Blaine came out of nowhere and turned my world upside down, causing me to question everything I thought I knew about myself, love, fate, and so on. My recount of the few months prior ended in tears when I verbalized I was considering leaving Nate after my solo “vacation” was over. The steady stream of tears escalated into a crying spell so filled with emotion that it was difficult to catch my breath. Broadcasting my secret shame was too much to bear. All Broderick could do was hug me tight and rub my back. He knew that would help because he’s had to do it before.

Once I was able to collect myself, we dissected the details until the mental load drained us both enough to fall asleep. The next thing either of us knew, it was morning and the smell of breakfast had stirred us awake. Still lying atop the blanket, Broderick yawned, “We’ll figure this out. But for now, let’s have something to eat.” He jostled my arm to get me moving before heading to the kitchen to see what was cooking.

Over the course of the following week, Broderick spent most afternoons helping Angel get settled in by moving heavy boxes and rearranging furniture until everything felt comfortable. I helped when possible but there was only so much I could do. Angel needed time and space to design her new life with each reopened box. That left most of my afternoons free to spend in pensive thought on her lanai or walking around the peaceful neighborhood.

Broderick and I used our evenings to catch up one-on-one. We usually started by reminiscing and comparing the reality of adulthood with how we thought it would be, but all roads seemed to lead back to relationships. Broderick hinted at some relationship troubles of his own. I’m unsure whether he’d withheld the details to give me space for what was weighing so heavily on my heart, or if he just wasn’t up to facing what weighed on his. Shamefully, I didn’t think to ask until after the fact. I was too tangled up in my own emotions and confusion to maneuver our conversation as thoughtfully as I would’ve liked. But I know if there was something Broderick was ready to get off his chest, he would have.

During several of our heart-to-hearts, Broderick referenced an adage he’d learned from his grandfather: In order to know where you’re headed, you need to understand where you’ve been. A combination of his grandfather’s memory and the cryptic meaning made it soul food for him. I thought his reciting it was to nudge me towards clarity, but later realized he might’ve been trying to guide himself. Regardless of who needed to hear it more, Broderick’s insights and company helped me make a decision about Nate.

I’d packed enough clothing to last me for at least two weeks away but thinking about where I’d been—and who’d I’d been there with—encouraged me to talk things over with my husband. When Broderick returned to Portland, I reached out to Nate about heading home in lieu of my solo expedition. He was open to my early homecoming and eager to discuss the future of our relationship, so that’s what I did.