Breakfast at Reba's
Summary: Over breakfast one morning, Reba and Brock discuss what went wrong in their marriage. Post-finale.
2007
The quiet was still new. At a quarter to eight in the morning, Reba could actually sit at the kitchen table while she leisurely sipped her coffee. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that.
Her mornings used to be the embodiment of chaos. As recent as a month ago, Cheyenne and Van would be driving her nuts while they attempted to get both themselves and their daughter ready for the day. More often than not, Reba would be the one to give Elizabeth breakfast while the toddler's parents fought over the bathroom.
Jake would more often than not be doing his homework at the kitchen island, despite the numerous times she yelled at him for not doing it the night before. He'd ask her for help on every question, while she tried to take care of the baby and gulp down just one little cup of coffee.
Before Kyra moved out, she'd come downstairs, make some sarcastic remark about how her niece was going to graduate before her brother did, grab a toaster pastry, and run out the door. Thank God there had been at least one other person in the house who could take care of herself. Then Kyra had to go and move out, which left Reba as the house's sole mature adult. Even though it wasn't a very maternal thought to have, she couldn't help but resent Kyra for doing so.
Of course, Cheyenne and Van moving out greatly contributed to her new-found morning peace. But the household had been changing for a while before. In that preteen phase, Jake had begged her to let him walk to and from school with his friends, since she was "embarrassing" him by dropping him off. Though it pained Reba to see her youngest growing up, she'd reluctantly allowed it, as long as he came straight home. Since his friends left earlier, Jake no longer had time to sit at the counter to do homework and pester her with questions.
On the other hand, she was thrilled that Kyra had moved back home, if just for the short time the senior would be finishing up high school. Even though no one wanted to acknowledge it, everyone knew that Kyra planned to tour with her band that summer. Since it would cause a multitude of problems and arguments, everyone left the subject alone, and probably would until Kyra's graduation.
Meanwhile, the considerate teen had also changed up her morning routine. Instead of bolting out the door, she took the time to eat breakfast at home with her mother. Reba had her suspicions that the reason for this was Kyra feeling bad that her mother was left in the house alone most of the time. And the idea made her sick to her stomach True, Kyra had constant band practice, and Jake was gaining a social life, but the last thing Reba wanted was her daughter's pity.
She knew she was supposed to cherish this part of her life, when she could finally focus on her own needs rather than cater to her family. But she'd never felt like some kind of maid. She'd enjoyed helping her kids and taking care of problems for them. She'd enjoyed being needed.
On the verge of getting upset about it, Reba began to drink her coffee faster. Then she could rush out of the house and lose herself in her day at work.
As she was putting her mug in the sink, the door opened, and Brock walked in. "Hey, Brock," she greeted. About once a week, sometimes more, he stopped over on his way to work just to say hello. So did Barbra Jean, but at different times since they left work work separately.
"Hey, Reba. Any breakfast left?" Brock asked, already looking to see if anything was on the stove. "Got busy helping Henry get ready for school, and Barbra Jean headed in to the station early."
Reba shook her head. "Nope, dishes already washed and put away. You can help yourself to some cereal though," she offered. Often if he came while she was making eggs or pancakes, as she had been lately, she would make him a plate.
"Aw, no pancakes with the blueberries..." Brock trailed off at her playful glare. "Right. I'll just, uh, go check out the cereal cabinet."
"You won't find much there anymore. Van used to have two boxes just for himself," Reba warned him. She then glanced at the clock. "And I'm leaving for work soon. Maybe you should just toast a waffle or something and take it on the road."
Surprised, Brock glanced at his watch. "Already? You always used to wait until eight-thirty on the dot. It's barely eight."
"I didn't exactly wait to leave," Reba reminded him as she leaned on the island. "Before, the time snuck up on me because I'd be rushing around, helping the kids." She sighed, and some of her hidden nostalgia escaped. "Don't have to do much rushing now."
Brock raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay, Reba?" he asked as he sat on a stool opposite her. "You know you'll never be alone, right? You'll always have the kids...and me and Barbra Jean."
Though she was tempted to reply with a sarcastic retort at his addition, she just accepted the sentiment. "Thanks," she said. "It's just...I know I'm now supposed to enjoy my free time. But I don't know how."
"You're Reba. You'll figure it out, you always do," Brock replied, then smirked at her. "In the meantime...go read a book or something. I'm sure you are actually capable of relaxing."
Reba chuckled, amazed that she hadn't thought to just do nothing. It wasn't part of her nature. "Maybe. Thanks, Brock." She paused, then looked up at him. "You know, if someone said six years ago that one day I'd gladly chat with my ex-husband over breakfast, I'd had laughed in their face. Especially when you think about how our breakfasts used to go."
"Yeah. About ten minutes of pure torture," Brock remembered.
Unamused, Reba glared at him. "And whose fault was that?"
"Well..." Brock hesitantly answered. "In my head it was yours, but since I've learned over the years that everything is, in fact, my fault...I'm guessing it was mine?"
Reba grinned. "Well, maybe not everything...but come on, that one was definitely yours." At his doubtful look, she began, "Here, let me paint you a little picture..."
2000
"Mom! Where's my sweater? You promised you'd wash it last night!"
"Mom! Jake won't leave me alone!"
"Mom! Kyra won't play with me!"
"I have to get ready for school! Not all of us get up at five in the morning, you little freak!"
"Mom! Kyra called me a freak!"
"Mom! Kyra and Jake won't shut up!"
Overwhelmed by the incessant shouting, Reba stood still for just a second behind the kitchen island and waited for her head to stop spinning. School had only been in session for a week, yet the whole family was still adjusting to being back at school. Except her husband, who seemed to completely ignore the chaos in favor of pretending the kids were still sleeping late like they had on vacation. Every morning, he continued to leave her to help the kids alone, while he took his sweet time finishing his breakfast and reading the sports section of the newspaper.
"Mom!"
"Mom!"
"Mom!"
When she didn't respond immediately so she could take a few calming breaths, Brock looked up over the pages at her, his eyebrow raised. "Reba, the kids want you." Never mind her stress level, all he cared about was getting the kids to be quiet.
Lord help her, she wanted to smack him. Hard.
"They're your kids too, you know," she spat. Though she wasn't quite sure why she bothered anymore. All her nagging ever did was help him practice tuning her out.
Unaffected by her attitude, he went back to his reading. "Oh come on, Reba, you know they won't want my help. You're the only one around here who knows how to do anything."
"It's cute that you still think flattery will get you out of trouble," Reba snapped. So much for five minutes of peace before she tended to the kids, she thought. As it turned out, she'd be fighting with him instead. That seemed to be happening way too much lately. "You could at least offer to help," she continued. "Getting three kids ready for school is a challenge for one person!"
"But you get to go take a break after! I need to leave for work, while I have a very busy day ahead of me," Brock answered. His point made, he once again went back to reading.
The dismissive attitude got Reba's back up. All she did for this household, and he clearly didn't appreciate one bit of it. "And I don't? Brock, what do you think I do all day? Sit around and watch TV? Heck no, I'm doing the laundry, running errands, cleaning the..."
"I know," Brock interrupted. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He'd finally looked at her, but only because he was folding the paper and getting ready to head out the door. Of course. She was trying to talk to him about something important, and he was leaving her mid-sentence. Typical Brock. "By the way, I won't be home for dinner. Going to try and get in some time at the golf range tonight."
Annoyed, Reba protested, "Again? Brock, it's bad enough you've been playing on the weekends. But during the week, Jake's getting ready for bed by the time you get home, and..."
"Last time this week, I promise," he said as he grabbed his jacket and gave her a kiss good-bye. Both his placating words and stiff kiss were obviously just shallow gestures meant to get her off his back. Too irritated to even give him a courtesy "bye, have a good day" in return, she simply glared at him as he left and closed the door behind him.
The kids hadn't called her in a couple of minutes, so even though she worried why when they had needed her so urgently before, she stopped to regroup and chug her coffee. If Kyra had locked Jake in a closet, as she had in the past, he'd be okay for another few seconds.
As she swallowed the lukewarm liquid, Reba reflected on what had just happened. It was one of many, many fights her and Brock seemed to be having all the time. And they each fit a mold - he would be too uncaring or inattentive, and she'd yell at him for it. But it's not like she was nagging just to nag. Was it so wrong to want her husband to care about his wife and family?
If they'd just been going at it for the past few weeks, she'd shrug it off as a rough patch. But this "rough patch" had lasted for about a year, and showed no signs of improvement. She couldn't mark what exactly set them off...they just changed. And it was scary because she didn't know what to do to fix them. Was it all just part of growing old together? Was she just supposed to accept this as how things were going to be? That just didn't seem right.
Lori Ann had suggested counseling. Well, actually, she'd first suggested that Reba kick his butt out of the house until he had the sense knocked back into him. The counseling suggestion came after Reba had quickly shot down that idea. But then, Reba had rejected counseling as well. Her pride ached from just the thought of going to some stranger and confessing that she couldn't keep her marriage together on her own. It might be foolish to think that way, but that was how her mind worked.
And she knew Brock wouldn't want to go to therapy. He barely wanted to have family dinners on weeknights. There was no way he'd go to an office for an hour and talk about their feelings.
Though she didn't like her situation, she'd have to find some way to make it work. Or at least hang in there until she did. She and Brock had three kids. Divorce was not an option. Though she wasn't sure what the hell was going on with him, or what had caused this disinterested attitude, maybe he would snap out of it and everything would be fine again.
Sure. And maybe she'd win the lottery.
"Mom!"
Oh, right, she needed to get back to the kids. She looked up when high school junior Cheyenne ran into the room. "Mom!" she whined, tears in her eyes. "Kyra locked Jake in his closet again! I tried to get him out but she punched me! Go punish her!"
"I'm on it," Reba assured her daughter, as she regretfully put the half-empty coffee cup back on the counter before she ran upstairs.
2007
The painful memories of the beginning of their marriage's end made Reba upset, so she shook her head and lightened her tone. "Not all mornings were like that, of course. There were some when we didn't even talk to each other," she joked.
"Yeah..." Brock said, made uncomfortable by the story. "Look, I'm sorry Reba. I was just really self-centered back then." At her raised eyebrow, he added, "Oh, come on, you have to admit that I'm much better now."
Reba chuckled. "Maybe a little." She sighed. Of course, she had gone over every aspect of their marriage she could remember over the years, she had never been able to determine the exact reason for Brock's downward slide. "Hey, Brock?" she began, her words casual. "You mentioned once that you went to Barbra Jean because she needed you. Was that really it all this time? One day, you just felt like you weren't needed?"
"Well, it wasn't just 'one day,'" Brock replied. He'd used air quotes around the phrase. "You know me, Reba. I'm...well...I'm insecure. I don't handle it well when, like you said, I'm not needed, or if someone's, well...nagging me all the time." He backed up a few steps, as if she'd smack him if he didn't. "I'm just saying that I easily shut down if I don't feel appreciated. I hate that I am that way, but that's who I am. And that's why, when Barbra Jean came on strong, I...I couldn't say no. Don't get me wrong, the romance was a huge aspect of why the relationship started...but in the end it was just so good to feel like someone genuinely cared about me again."
Amazed, Reba could only stare at him. Despite his careful, non-accusing tone, she still felt hurt by his confession. While she wanted to think him a baby for needing his ego constantly fed, she made herself look at it from his side. He was the one who went to work all day and provided for his family.
The memory made her realize that she'd rarely ever acknowledged that. She'd always been too stressed out from the house and kids, that she'd used to think that her role was just as important as his, if not more. But in reality he'd worked hard too. If she'd needed his praise back then, she should've realized that he must have needed the same.
"I did care about you, Brock," she said quietly. "I loved you. I just didn't show it often." Aware of her rare moment of weakness, she added, "You didn't show your love for me often, either."
Brock frowned. "I guess after being married for so long, we let life get in the way of romance."
"I guess so," Reba agreed. She glanced at the clock and realized they'd been talking for slightly longer than she'd intended. "And now I really do have to leave for work. Sorry that didn't turn out to be the light chat over breakfast you probably had in mind."
"It's okay," he said. He finished up the last of the cereal he'd poured for himself during the story, then put the bowl and spoon in the sink. "This was nice too."
After she'd grabbed her coat and briefcase, she paused. "Yeah, it was," she agreed. She gave him a quick smile before the two left for work.