Chapter Two
Chapter Two
It had all started at lunch break one day. Reba had come home to find Brock in her kitchen.
"Hello, there, Brock, what are you doing here?" she asked, setting her purse on the counter. Brock was looking a little upset, and she thought she may know why; the last time they'd talked had been when she confronted Brock and Barbara Jean about fighting enough to make Kyra feel scared. After he said nothing, she added, "How's your day goin?"
"Reba…did you ever want to leave me for anyone?" he asked, not looking at her. He just stared at a spot on the floor and sat with his head resting onto one hand.
Reba raised her eyebrows, not sure if she'd heard him right. "I'm having a great day, how about you?" she asked casually in response.
He sighed a little impatiently and shifted in his seat. "I'm sorry, Reba, I know it's a weird question.…"
"Yeah!" she scoffed in agreement, opening the fridge and taking out leftover ham from last nights dinner. "Especially weird to ask the woman you left, as well."
He continued, "I guess you know that things are pretty rough with Barbara Jean and I these days."
She shrugged, setting the portion she was going to eat into the microwave. "Seeing as Barbara Jean denied it over and over, yeah I knew things were shaky."
"It's more than shaky, Reba, it's worse than you and I were. See…we separated because we saw the signs and knew we had to do something about it, but…Barbara Jean and me, well, it's like since we're so afraid of divorcing we don't even want to think about taking a break."
Reba sighed. "So, for this you want to know if I ever thought about leaving you for someone? Well, I can honestly say no, Brock; I can't remember ever even looking at anyone else until I filed for divorce. And I don't think that you should leave Barbara Jean for anyone."
He mumbled something she couldn't understand because the microwave was going off, and by the time she had sat down to eat next to him she was hoping the subject would change itself. They sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts about the past. Staring down at her food, Reba realized that after this topic she wasn't hungry anymore.
"Do you want something to eat? I lost my appetite." she asked finally.
"Reba, I just can't do it!" he burst. Taken aback, Reba stared at him in surprise.
"No ones making you, I'm not hungry either-"
"That's not what I mean, you wouldn't understand." He shook his head, looking away. Even as serious as this sounded, Reba had to laugh.
"What wouldn't I understand, Brock? I've known you for twenty-five years and counting. After that you can't do anything to surprise me."
He laughed mirthlessly. "Really? So there's nothing I could say, do, nothing that would catch your attention?"
Reba nodded, throwing her shoulders in the air. "Yeah, I mean if you danced naked around the White House singing a Rod Stewart song, I'd be a little freaked, but-"
She didn't finish her sentence, because at that moment he had turned and captured her lips in a kiss. It wasn't long, but it was just long enough for Reba to feel flames ignite all over. When they broke apart, her eyes were still closed.
"Touché," she murmured, opening them. When their eyes met, it didn't matter that he had just kissed the woman he'd cheated on. That was the first time they'd kissed in almost four years, and instead of changing, every feeling had grown, and right now that was filling her thoughts.
"Does that surprise you?" he asked quietly. She nodded, still not breaking the eye contact. He chuckled, somewhat nervously. "Aren't you going to say anything?"
Shakily, Reba whispered, "What am I gonna do?" Reading Brocks confused expression, she finally looked away. "Now the man I'm in love with knows it.."
"That's okay…now you know he loves you, right?" he pointed out, brushing her cheek softly with the hand he held hers in. "What couldn't be right?"
She sighed and looked back into his eyes. "He's married to my best friend."
Then and there, they knew something had to be done, that somehow they'd have to be together. But it would take time. He would have to prove to the kids that Barbara Jean could never be happy with him, he'd have to prove to Reba that he wouldn't leave. That was how the affair had come in; now, he told her that he wouldn't be with her if he didn't regret everything.
Today Reba was laying on the couch, a wet washcloth over her eyes. She wished Brock would come over and they could sneak out to the garage or something.
Barbara Jean had just come in and asked Reba if she would ask Brock if he was having an affair. The truth Reba knew, but she wasn't about to say, "Oh, yeah, he and I have been sneaking around behind your back for awhile now, but don't worry – haven't slept together yet! We just make out passionately whenever we get the chance – if you didn't notice all I wear lately is turtlenecks. Good thing the weather's been sucky, huh?"
One thing was good – they hadn't slept together…yet? What was she thinking – there would be no 'yet' that Barbara Jean would know about! So, what was she thinking? What was this supposed to end like, what would come out of it? Anything good? At all? What if Brock didn't go through with his part of the bargain and just changed his mind?
Deep down, she felt incredibly horrible about being the other woman. She remembered how finding out about Brock cheating on her had felt, and she wouldn't want anyone to ever have that feeling, especially not Barbara Jean. Barbara Jean was her…gulp….best friend. Be careful, Reba, don't let that slip again, she said to herself, shivering at the thought.
But mixed with that feeling of bitterness and guilt was one that was very happy. She had Brock back in her arms again, they still loved each other. Knowing that sent sparks flying when thoughts crossed her mind of him. Reba smiled dreamily just thinking about it. That was suddenly crashed by the thought No wonder Barbara Jean couldn't help it.
"Mom?" Cheyenne had just come down with Elizabeth, and noticed Reba laying on the couch. At her daughters voice, she slid the frown off her face and sat up.
"What, honey?"
"Is something wrong?" Cheyenne asked, setting herself and Elizabeth next to her. Reba smiled genuinely and placed Elizabeth on her own lap. "You've been real…strange lately."
Reba tried not to look guilty. "How so…?"
"Well, one minute you're happy, the next your quiet and thoughtful and…" Cheyenne listed, then she froze, her mouth falling open in a smile. "Mom, did you meet someone?"
Rebas had shot up. "What, no! Why would you-"
But Cheyenne was already glowing with a gossip smirk, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Okay, Mom, spill: Who is he? Have I ever met him? Is he hot?"
Reba was shaking her head, desperately wishing that her daughter would shut up already. She didn't need someone on her tail; it was bad enough when Barbara Jean became suspicious. "Cheyenne, there's no one. And if there was, wouldn't you kids be the first to know?"
"Know what?" Van, who had just left the kitchen, asked.
Cheyenne shrugged in a self satisfied manner and stood, and walked to the kitchen as though she were floating on air, singing, "Mammas in love!" as she passed him.
Van looked curiously at his mother-in-law, then smoothly went and sat down next to her. "So, Mrs. H…who is he?"
Reba groaned, reluctantly setting Elizabeth on his lap. "No one! Sheesh, can't a woman have a life without family pokin' their noses in?" she rose and stormed to the door, throwing it open.
"Wait- where are you goin'?"
"Crazy." She slammed the door behind her.
She walked in on Barbara Jean wearing a tiara and veil, gazing at herself in a mirror. At the sight of Reba, Barbara Jean threw off the tiara and began wiping down the coffee table hurriedly.
"Hey, Barbara Jean, how you doin'?" she asked, knowing that wasn't exactly the most sensible question. But when you consider the fact that Reba was the reason she was in this state, well, it makes sense that she couldn't come up with a better intro
"Oh, super good!" Barbara Jean rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Yeah, the good thing about your husband cheatin' on you is that my house has never been cleaner! Oh, I wouldn't eat those," she added as Reba leaned down to pick up a cracker that was on a plate. "They're for Brock." She then began to spray them with cleaner viciously, making sure not to miss anywhere.
"Barbara Jean, why don't you just ask him?" Reba sighed, dropping the cracker back.
Barbara Jean's face turned chalk white and she began to shiver. "Oh, no…I can't even look at him without seeing him in the arms of another…of another…" she started to hyperventilate, moving her arms in a circular motion in front of her.
Reba held up her hands, attempting to calm her. "Barbara Jean, fine, I'll ask him! Calm down! Think of something happy!"
The blonde eventually settled down a little. "Beanie babies.." she thought aloud. Her breathing was almost normal again when the door opened and Brock walked in. "Hey, honey," he said. "Hi, Reba."
That sent Barbara Jean flying out of the living room and into the kitchen, sounding like a bird with asthma again.
Brock raised his eyebrows at Reba. "Do you know why she keeps doing that?"
Reba smiled provocatively. "She's afraid someone's gonna come up to you and do this," she said, walking toward him and pulling him into a kiss.
He returned it just as passionately, but broke apart apprehensively to look over her shoulder toward the kitchen. "She might come in, you know."
"Nah, we have a minute. She's still hyperventilating," she assured him, but pulled apart and led him by the hand to sit on the couch. "We do need to talk about this, Brock, this…whatever it is we're doing."
"Having an affair," Brock translated.
"That sounds so…dirty!" Reba scrunched up her face. "But okay, yes, we're having an affair. She suspects it, Brock, she thinks you're sneaking around with someone."
Brock bit his lip. "Look, Reba…I know this can't be easy for you, being the other woman."
"Okay, I've already acknowledged that we're having an affair, do I have to take that title?" she scrunched up her nose again. Brock couldn't help but notice how adorable that was and kissed the tip of her nose.
"I just want you to know…she and I won't stay together much longer. See, you aren't the only person I've been seeing."
Reba stood, anger shooting out from nowhere. "What – you're cheating on me!?" she hissed. "You're supposed to be cheating with me! How many women does one man need?" she repeated Barbara Jean's question earlier.
Brock quickly shook his head, waving his hands in the air and pulling her back on the couch "No – no! Not like that, not at all. See…it was before we started…seeing each other again. Reba…I know that I have so much, I have great kids, I have you, this good life, but I was just not happy at all. I just didn't feel anything but miserable…so I saw a therapist. She diagnosed me as depressed and prescribed me some anti-depressants."
Reba started to feel a little numb around the knees at the news. "Wow…and this is the first time you've told anybody?" He nodded. "So, the only reason that we're 'sneaking around' is because you're trying to feel joy? Oh, this is…this is just great!" she started to rise, but he laid a hand on her knee.
"Reba, of course not!" Brock exclaimed, quite surprised. "Don't you get it – I started feeling this before the divorce, before Barbara Jean! So, basically, everything I've done since it started was because of a mental illness!"
As this sunk in, Reba couldn't help but joke, "I always knew something was wrong with your head." She sighed and looked away awkwardly. "So…wow, Brock. Um…with you in this…situation, how much longer do you think it will be before you…you know." She jerked her head towards the kitchen, where Barbara Jean must still be.
Brock shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Reba, I don't think she should know…"
Unfortunately, this is the exact moment when Barbara Jean entered, breathing into a bag. She dropped it. "Know?" she repeated. "Don't want me to…know? What?"
Reba and Brock had both stood in surprise to face her, hoping they didn't look guilty. Casually, Brock answered, "That…I'm having an affair."
"Brock!" Reba yelled, hitting his shoulder, her heart dancing wildly against somewhere in her ribcage. He couldn't just rat her out like that, she wouldn't take this fall by herself. It was all she could do not to yell, "HE STARTED IT!"
"You….who…when….oh!" Barbara Jean started crying. Glaring at Brock, Reba pushed passed him to hug Barbara Jean, thinking fast.
"Calm down, honey, that's not true," Reba comforted her. "In fact, it's rather simple…Brock is seeing a therapist."
"Who is she, what's the tramps name?" she yelled, shock turning to anger and breaking away from Reba.
Brock sighed. "I'm seeing her professionally."
"YOU'RE PAYING FOR IT?"
"I've been diagnosed as depressed, and they put me on medication. I've been like this for a long time and didn't know it, and I decided I should get help."
Barbara Jeans jaw didn't come off the floor for another five seconds. Finally she put on the best smile she could and said, "Brock, honey, why didn't you tell me? I'm here to support you." She walked forward and hugged him. Neither of them saw that she was holding her breath, trying not to let out the tears threatening to flood out of her. When they broke apart, she didn't look him in the eye, just said, "I think I'll take Henry to the store with me, now…we're out of milk." She disappeared upstairs.
Breaking the silence, Reba said, "Wow, she took that pretty well."
"Yeah," Brock agreed.
But Barbara Jeans supportive attitude had sprung a question into Rebas mind, and she said quietly, "Listen, Brock, she really wants to make this work, are you sure you don't want to-"
"Reba, I know who I want!" he stopped her. He held her by the arms and said, "Now I do. I know who I can't live without, and I'm never letting her go."
Around the corner, Barbara Jean had heard him say this. She felt a smile form on her face and her heart lift for the first time in so long. Then-
"I love you, Brock," she heard Reba say.
"I love you, too."
Horror and confusion washed over her like sleet, rain and wind. She thought he'd been talking about her, but he was talking to Reba! Right in her own house, she was being cheated on.
For three full minutes, she just stood there on the steps, letting this fresh feeling sink in, forcing any and every emotion out. What she'd felt when she suspected it was laughable in comparison. It was as though someone had run away with everything she could believe in, depend on. That she was isolated, lost, empty…and it would always be like that now. Somehow this feeling was too heavy and strong for her to lift.
And she had been thinking of going to get milk. At a time like this when she felt dead.
Looking to her left at the little boy she loved, she noticed he had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Some kind of tenderness kicked in there; he was the only one that loved her. She held him a little tighter as his chubby cheek rested on her shoulder. He really looked nothing like Brock; just the eyes, which were luckily closed. Finally, with a great effort, Barbara Jean turned and slowly walked back up to his room, laying him down on his baby blue sheets.
She didn't realize how tired she was. Gently, she lay next to her son, and before she could stop them, tears were falling. They made no noise, and she again held her breath, at first wishing they would stop. Then she just didn't care, and cried herself to sleep.
