Remember When

You can make excuses and you can try to justify your mistakes with self-pity, but in the end, infidelity always finds its way to the surface. Victimizing yourself will only turn you into the bad guy and open the door to things you always swore you were incapable of doing.

But Reba Hart didn't listen to her counselors. She didn't listen to God, and she didn't listen to herself. She only listened to that small voice that kept pointing out how lonely she was. And as well as a selfish emotion could guide you, she followed it all the way to the using arms of Brock Hart. Yes, using in so many ways.

About a year and a half ago, Brock developed a drinking problem that progressively got worse over time. He too, became the victim in life as a should-be happy man came to the realization that he's not living the careless, guilt free life he felt he should. Carelessness comes with consequences, which in turn, leads to responsibilities. Responsibilities he was not ready for.

So Reba was headed to his house when Barbra Jean was not home, but not for the reason she normally went over there. She had some news to give Brock that she herself still couldn't believe. The windshield wipers moved back and forth like a metronome. Keeping the beat in her head was a poor attempt to get her mind off the obvious.

She couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would be. Hopefully he was in his right mind and able to have a civil conversation with her but she knew that was unlikely. Every once and a while, they would get into a big fight over something stupid, and Reba would worry if it would be the end of it. But all in all, Brock needed Reba just as much as she needed him. Maybe for different reasons, but both tried their hardest to keep a dead thing alive.

Reba remembered when loving Brock wasn't wrong. She remembered time stood still for a moment when he'd come home from work everyday. And all the times she never felt more alive than when they were just sitting quietly in the car listening to Love in the First Degree. Brock always commented how this was his song to Reba.

So as Reba came closer to his house, her future flashed through her head like a badly timed ending to a drama movie. It was then she realized that there was no way of hiding this. She can't get out of this mess without hurting people she loved and ruining relationships. She had no one to blame but herself this time.

Reba took a long breath and knocked on the door. She waited for what seemed the longest time. She knocked again but still no answer. She tried the door and realized it was open so she just went on in. As usual, Brock was sitting on the couch, sunk into he cushions like he had been there all day. He probably had.

"Hey," he said, realizing that Reba was in the doorway. He motioned for her to come over, but she wasn't as willing. She was almost scared to. It was like seeing through different eyes as she noticed just how terrible he looked. His worn face and dark eyes told stories in high numbers far beyond his years which added baggage to his sluggish appearance and slurred words. He was just so oblivious as he looked at her with half open eyes waiting for her do something. It was then that Reba's anger began to rise. He has no troubles, Reba thought. He doesn't know pain like I do. He thinks he's had it so tough? Well I'll show him what its like to worry.

She slammed the door behind her and waited for it to reach his brain.

Sitting up straight, holding his head in his hand he said, "What was that for?"

"I don't know. I just feel like slamming some doors today." Her heels clapped on the hardwood floor until she got to where Brock was sitting at the far end of the couch. He always hated Reba's attitude, so she thought she would use this to her advantage. Tightening her lips and raising her eyebrow, she glared at him with as much intensity as she could muster. When he looked up to her face, it was clear it was getting to him and it felt good when she realized she hit a nerve.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked.

"We have a little problem that we need to discuss. Now"

Brock sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hated serious talks like this and did his best to avoid them. Unfortunately, this could not be avoided. Finally he said, "Are you gonna tell me or not?"

"You don't have to be mean."

"And you don't have to be so dramatic. Just say what you're gonna say so we can get to what you came here for."

"The only reason I came was to tell you that I'm pregnant." Reba's teeth clenched and her stomach tightened, but at the same time, her nerves eased a bit. Perhaps telling someone a secret that she's kept inside for what seemed like forever offered some relief. But the feeling didn't last long. Brock's annoyed face quickly turned to amusement. He started laughing like it was all a joke as he stood up and faced her.

"Ah, quit messing with me."

"I'm not messing with you. I'm telling you the truth and I don't know what to do."

Brock's smile slowly faded as he appeared to think on the matter. Reba just stayed quiet hoping he would understand and see the seriousness of it all. Maybe this was the very thing that would change his ways. In the back of her mind, Reba couldn't help but think that maybe because of this it would bring them closer together. Memories flashed through her head of happier times. Every once and a while, she'd let herself get carried away, and now, standing before Brock, she never wanted anything more than to hear him say everything will be alright. She always loved that protective side of him he used to show. But that was long gone now when he said, "I don't know what you want me to do."

This actually came as a shock to Reba. As if she was almost expecting him to say what was in her head. "What?"

"I said what do you want me to do about it? This isn't my problem."

Reba couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I don't know what you're trying to insinuate, but you had a part in this too."

"You told me you would make sure something like this wouldn't happen."

"You can't blame me for this! It takes two people, and as I recall, you weren't against our little arrangement at all. So before you try to justify yourself, maybe you should take a look at yourself."

"Yes, but I'm not the one who showed up at your door crying in the middle of the night."

It was true. Reba came to him first. Victimizing herself turned something that never should have been in the first place, into an out of control mess. Maybe this really was her fault. Brock just did what any man would do if the opportunity presented itself. She was to blame, but she was still scared. Finally, she said, "I don't know what to do."

"Well…I think you need to take care of it."

"What? Surly you're not telling me-"

"Just do what you got to do and this will all be over with."

"You have some nerve to say that to me, you know that? Just because you don't think it's your problem you really don't care at all what happens to it."

"Well, why would you want to keep it? It won't be anything but a mistake and a problem."

By this time, Reba found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Hearing him say these words came as such a shock. Did he really mean what he was saying, or was it the alcohol talking? It was hard for her to tell these days.

"I'm not going to have this come up and make everyone look at me like it's my fault," Brock said to her. "I don't want my reputation ruined."

"I think your reputation flew out the door along with your dignity when you were thrown out of a bar several times because you got into a fight. The way I see it, it can't get much worse."

"I really don't care how you see it. Just do what I said."

His eyes turned a shade darker with these words. Reba never really had been scared of him because she was never put in a threatening situation like this with him before. Something was telling her to leave. So even though the problem that she came here for in the first place was left unresolved, she turned to go.

"Where are you going?" Brock said, grabbing her forearm tightly. "We're not through."

"Let me go, Brock," she tried to say calmly.

"I said we're not through." He tried to grab her other arm so she would face him again but Reba started to pull from his grip. It was like a bad game of tug of war. The longer she tried to pull away, the more he would hang on. But perhaps the whole thing was making him dizzy. With one final pull, Reba stepped on his foot as hard as she could to get his attention off her. But instead of letting go, he screamed out in pain and pushed her backwards. She hit the floor with great impact and succeeded in knocking over a candle and a picture on the coffee table. But she didn't waste anytime sulking. Getting up almost immediately, she picked up the broken picture and stood a little bit closer to the door.

"You have some nerve to-" She threw the picture at him out of anger. He ducked his head just in time as it flew right over him and shattered on the back wall. He turned around to look at the mess then back to Reba.

Adrenalin was running through her as she pointed to him and said, "I am not going to do this anymore. I may be smaller than you, but I am not going to be afraid of you. You have made me think I need you while at the same time, made me miserable and almost hate you. But I always came back though, didn't I? Well not this time. I'm leaving now and don't you dare try to stop me." With that, she turned, opened the door, and walked right out. Somehow she knew she wouldn't be followed.

She got into her car and headed for home. Home, she thought. Where is home? It certainly wasn't where she was headed. She felt so suffocated there and it was not comforting like it used to be. I need to get out of here for a while. I need to clear my head and figure out what to do. Then the idea came to her. She could go visit her parents in Oklahoma for a little while. Surely that wouldn't hurt anything. Yes, she'll call her mother when she got home. Cheyenne and Van could take care of everything. She needed to take care of herself right now.

Thanks for reading. :)