Twisted
Boring Friday nights were becoming a regular happening in Reba Hart's life. She'd go to work in the morning then come home to a dark, empty house. The only thing that was halfway entertaining was reading, so from about five in the evening to nine o'clock at night, she parked herself on the sofa and read. They were mostly books she had read before and loved, so she figured she'd re-read them. For the past week, her book of choice had been Gone With The Wind.
As the sun drooped low and the moon took its place at around seven o'clock, she finally decided she would get up and make a snack of some sort.
Quietly, she walked into the kitchen. As she turned on the light, she noticed how lonely the space had become. Years ago, the whole house would have been bustling with teenagers and grandbabies running around. The television blaring and something cooking in the oven. Barbra Jean and Brock would have been arguing about some petty thing, Cheyenne and Van would be trying to tame their two children, Kyra would have been listening to her iPod at the table, and Jake would have been bugging Van and Brock to go shoot hoops with him outside. The family Reba once knew had vanished before her very eyes.
As she opened the freezer to retrieve her favorite ice cream, she went over the past few years in her head.
Brock and Barbra Jean had divorced at the beginning of 2008 when the both of them decided to move to Little Rock together. The move had put so much stress on their relationship that they came back six months later with divorce papers in hand, having sold their tiny Arkansas home. Reba had been dumbfounded, as the rest of the family had been. Tears were shed, but Brock and Barbra Jean played it off like they were happier apart. And soon, everybody found this to be true.
Cheyenne and Van stayed at the house they had bought with their former high-school classmate, and baby Kasey was born right before Brock and Barbra Jean returned from Little Rock. They spent the majority of their time with friends and their children, coming to Reba's house only twice a month, if that. She missed her daughter and grandchildren immensely, and it seemed that everything reminded her of them.
Kyra had moved to Dallas after Brock and Barbra Jean's divorce. It didn't surprise anyone, seeing as how she had been closest to Barbra Jean and was so much like her mother. When she was hurt, she closed everyone off. Her stay in Dallas had proven to be successful, however. She landed a recording contract with a small label and was on top of the world. Reba had become convinced that she had completely forgotten about her life in Houston.
Then there was Jake. The baby. The eighteen-year-old baby in college in Austin. It had nearly killed Reba when her youngest child announced he'd be moving out of Houston to go to school with his buddies. That was four months ago. She still found herself to be upset about it.
He'll visit, she told herself. And he would. She just didn't know when.
"Hey, Reba."
Looking over her shoulder, Reba saw Barbra Jean come in the back door. She came over every once in a while just to chat. Her and Brock's house down the street had never sold, so when the two returned, Barbra Jean moved in there, and Brock moved into his equally un-sold condo.
"Hey, Barbra Jean," Reba replied, getting out two bowls from the cabinet. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing." She flopped down at the counter and put her chin in her hand. "Brock's got Henry tonight."
"You bored, too?"
"Out of my ever loving mind. Wanna go catch a movie or something?"
Reba shook her head. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm just going to have a bowl of ice cream and go to bed."
"Go to bed? It's seven thirteen."
Reba shrugged and dished out ice cream for the two, shoving Barbra Jean's bowl to her.
"I have to work tomorrow. I need my rest."
Barbra Jean began eating her ice cream as Reba ate hers while standing on the other side of the counter.
"Do you realize how old that sounded?"
"I am old."
Barbra Jean rolled her eyes. "You are not."
"Fifty-five is old, Barbra Jean."
"It is not. It's mid-life."
"How many people do you know who are a hundred?"
"Plenty."
Reba shook her head. "No. I'm not going to the movies. There's not even any good ones out there."
"We don't have to go see a movie, then. Let's go to a bar."
"What kind of business do I have in a bar?"
"I need a man." She sat back in her seat, a kind of pouty look on her face. "Being single isn't any fun."
"I've done it for twelve years. You get used to it."
Barbra Jean rolled her eyes but then looked up to her friend. "I have a brilliant idea."
"Oh, no…"
"Oh, yes! Go get dressed! We're going out!" She hopped out of her seat and pulled on Reba's arm, trying to get her out of the kitchen and up to her closet.
"Barbra Jean, I do not want to leave this house."
"But, Reba, you're so boring. We have to find you a man!"
"I don't want a man." She jerked her arm away. "I'm perfectly content with living here alone."
"That's a lie."
"It is not."
"Is, too. I happen to know that you talk to your azaleas out back."
"There's nobody else to talk to!"
"Right! You need a boyfriend!"
"No."
Reba knew Barbra Jean would keep going on and on, but she was not about to give in this time. She truly believed her time in the dating world was over. She'd already accepted it and she wished Barbra Jean would, too.
"Don't you get lonely?" Barbra Jean asked after a minute.
"Of course I do."
"Then why not try dating? You could find your soul mate and the two of you could have a big wedding and I could be your maid of honor and you would look so beautiful in your dress and we could have that awesome bakery do the cake and-"
"Barbra Jean, stop." She sighed. She hadn't really wanted to tell anyone of her plans just yet, but if it would shut Barbra Jean up about getting a boyfriend, she would have to. "It's not just that I don't want a boyfriend, I can't."
Barbra Jean had a confused look on her face. "Is there something I should know about you…?"
Reba rolled her eyes, placing her empty bowl in the sink, slowly rinsing it before meeting Barbra Jean's eyes.
"I'm moving home. To Oklahoma."
The blonde was silent for a moment. Reba could see the bewilderment plastered all over her face.
"Oklahoma?"
Reba nodded. "Yes. To live with Mama and Daddy."
"But why? What's wrong with Houston?"
Reba sighed and slowly sauntered over to the table where she gently sat down, hands in her lap. "That part of my life is over. There's nothing left for me here. Brock and I divorced twelve years ago, Cheyenne and Van and the kids never visit, and Kyra and Jake are doing their own thing. Nobody really needs me here anymore. I sit in this big ol' house day after day just thinking about how alone I am and it's really getting to me. I want to go back to Oklahoma. I need to."
Barbra Jean sank back into her seat. "But all the way to Oklahoma?"
"Barbra Jean, I didn't even plan on telling you tonight, so please don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
The room was silent for a moment and Reba hated that. She truly thought of Barbra Jean as a close friend, if not one of her best friends, and she didn't want to hurt her. That was the last thing she ever wanted to do. But Barbra Jean was hurt whether she chose to show it or not.
"When will you go?" She asked after awhile.
"A few months. I want to tell the kids in person, so I'm going to wait until Thanksgiving. They have to come visit me then, right?" She tried to chuckle, to show Barbra Jean it was a joke, but the blonde didn't smile like she would have usually done. Instead she nodded in agreement.
"I'll miss you," She finally said.
Reba stood from the table. "Well, I know that." She gave a sad smile. "I'll miss you, too, Barbra Jean. You'll have to come visit."
"Duh."
Reba smiled and Barbra Jean stood so the two could hug.
"I'm not leaving tomorrow," Reba said after Barbra Jean had made the hug terribly awkward, not letting go after a moment or two. "You can let me go now."
Barbra Jean pulled away, sniffling, and Reba couldn't help but feel tears well up in her eyes as well.
"Don't make me cry!" She exclaimed, dabbing at the corners of her eye with her hand, turning away. "You'll make my makeup smear."
Barbra Jean shook her head. "I never thought you'd be the last one to leave."
Reba exhaled a long breath. She hadn't either. She had never planned for her marriage to go up in smoke or her children to move so far away, leaving her all alone. Like any other woman, she had wanted the picture-perfect marriage and beautiful children who, when they grew up, would live just down the street and come over for dinner every night. Things certainly didn't go the way she planned them.
"Well, Barbra Jean, God knows what's best. Everything that's happened has happened for a reason."
"I guess so…"
The two stood in the kitchen without speaking before Reba motioned Barbra Jean to come into the living room so Reba could lock the back door and prepare for bed.
"You'll call me, right?" Barbra Jean asked as Reba began folding up the fleece blanket that she had been using.
"Again, I'm not leaving tomorrow, but yes."
"Everyday?"
"Everyday."
"How are you gonna tell Brock?"
Reba didn't answer right away. She didn't really know for sure. She knew she would have to tell him separately from the kids, simply because he was her best friend, and had been for thirty years. He knew her more than she knew her self and vice versa. She knew that leaving him so permanently wouldn't be easy, but she figured she'd somehow make it through.
"I'll figure something out," She finally said.
"You know he'll try to talk you out of it."
"I know."
"He'll come up with fifteen different solutions to your loneliness."
"I know."
"He'll probably cry."
"I know."
"You know he has a girlfriend, right?"
"I kno- What?" Reba looked up from straightening the coffee table.
Barbra Jean was nodding. "Yeah. I've never met her, though."
"What's her name?"
"I don't know."
"Where'd they meet?"
"I don't know."
"How old is she?"
"I don't know."
"Barbra Jean, what do you know?"
"That he has a girlfriend."
Reba rolled her eyes, going back to her chore. What did she care if Brock had some floozy wrapped around his arm now? Nothing different than twelve years ago. Typical Brock. Going on sixty and still having to have a woman around to keep his reputation at the golf course and around his buddies up.
"I bet she's just some hussy."
"Reba!"
"Well."
"I've never heard you talk like that."
"Yeah, so?"
"Just that. Why so defensive all of a sudden?"
"I'm not getting defensive. All I'm saying is he's been known to pick some…strange women to be with."
"You should talk. He chose you first."
"I don't mean me, you moron. Anyway, if you ever see her or anything, let me know."
Barbra Jean cracked a smile. "Why do you care?"
"I don't. I'm curious is all."
"Liar."
"What other reason would I have for wanting to know?"
"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out."
"There's nothing to figure out. I'm simply curious, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay."
New story! I'm super excited about this one! Review? (: