Chapter 8: Breakage

Lee stopped at the bright red door, face-to-face with a festive autumn wreath. He shifted the pie in his hands, wondering if it was too late to get back into his car and drive home. Not only would he have the whole pie to himself, paired with a couple of beers would make him a full meal right there. He could watch the game by himself, have a few, and turn in early. A perfect Thanksgiving.

"Lee? Are you gonna hover outside my door all evening or are you gonna come in?"

Lee sighed. So much for that plan. "Hi, Ma," he called back, letting himself in.

The heat inside the house was stifling, like walking into a brick oven. Lee was assailed with a blend of smells ranging from sweet potato to potpourri, and he tried not to inhale too deeply. Despite his efforts, he felt dizzy, and resisted the urge to turn around and stick his head back outside where he could breathe.

Lee made his way towards the kitchen, automatically stepping over the floorboard that squeaked. It was habit-ever since he was a kid, he'd taken care to avoid the board that announced to his sleeping parents that he was wandering around past his bedtime. He knew every corner of the old house, but he'd never felt less attached to it.

"Did you redo the kitchen?" Lee asked, noting the marble counters and stonework around the oven. It certainly was an upgrade from the rickety wooden surfaces, albeit an unfamiliar one.

"Sure did," his mom answered, chopping vegetables in a steady rhythm, "Six months ago."

Had it really been that long since Lee had been here? He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I, uh, brought a pie. Pumpkin."

Mom finally turned around to face him. He could see lines creasing her face where her smile usually sat. "Janelle's not with you," she said matter-of-factly.

"Thought you might not notice," he replied. It was meant to be a joke, but he couldn't make anything sound funny these days. "She's in New York this week coordinating a wedding."

His mother always had this way of making him feel like she was disappointed. With what, he couldn't say. Probably everything. "You couldn't bring your wife over for one meal with her family? I can't even remember the last time I saw Janelle."

"Don't bother the boy, Ma," came the deep, booming voice of Lee's father from the living room. "Lee knew that his girl didn't want to be tied down when he married her."

Lee glared in the general direction of the living room where he could hear the faint cheering of a crowd from the television. "You don't need to put it like that," he said.

"And don't ask about when we'll have grandkids," his pop added unnecessarily. "She's a working woman. There ain't no time for kids, or for husbands."

"All right!" Lee's voice reverberated off the newly furnished kitchen. His mother jumped at the sudden outburst, dropping the knife she was holding so it clanged to the floor. Pop stuck his head in to see the damage.

"You did not just shout at your mother." Pop's voice was dangerous, like a growling bear.

Lee inhaled deeply to put out the fire burning in his chest. He shouldn't have been surprised with this kind of reaction-his parents were not known for their subtlety. Lee tossed his store-bought pie onto the counter next to his mother's decadent puddings and slipped out of the kitchen's sliding glass door to the backyard. He welcomed the chilly air and made himself comfortable on the stoop where he could oversee the whole yard. His parents' neighborhood had exploded with color: deep reds, sugary oranges, and warm yellows peppered the overhanging trees and grass. He could remember piles of leaves taller than he was, though he had only been six or seven. The memory seemed like it was from another lifetime.

"Ma kicked you out of the kitchen?"

It was Benji, a beer in each hand and a grin on his young face. Lee took the bottle gratefully. "I left on my own," Lee replied.

Benji chuckled and settled on the damp porch beside him. "They're happy you're here, really."

"Could've fooled me."

"You've just been kind of absent lately, I think. I don't blame you."

Lee snorted. "I'm a teacher, Benji. It's not like I have a lot of free time to help out at the shop."

"I'm not talking about that." Benji sipped his own beer, but didn't go on.

Benji was someone Lee could enjoy the silence with. He didn't feel pressured to fill the empty gaps between conversations, it was enough to simply exist.

After a minute of watching the shadows stretch across the lawn, Benji spoke again. "So, Janelle," he said.

Lee knew the question was going to pop up sooner or later, even after such a nice long silence. He finished his beer before standing up. "Let's walk a bit," he said, hoping to get out of earshot of the house where his mother could undoubtedly hear them from the kitchen.

They headed towards the creek, which stretched across every yard in the neighborhood and wound down to the old bridge where they used to toss rocks. The canopy of trees above had provided a welcoming shade for those scorching summer days when they were boys, but now Lee could see the stars poking through the barren branches and drying leaves.

"So?" Benji pressed.

Lee took another drink and inhaled the night air so it froze the inside of his nose. "She wants me to sign divorce papers."

There was that silence again, only this time it carried more weight. Lee continued walking; hoping the sound of crunching leaves would fill it up somehow.

"I'm sorry," said Benji. "Man, Ma and Pop are gonna be pissed."

Lee gave a dry laugh. "I don't think I can disappoint them much further."

"There's no way you can make it work?"

"She didn't want kids. I did. I guess we both thought we could change the others' mind." Lee clutched his empty bottle in his hand. The glass was bitingly cold.

Benji's hand landed heavily on his shoulder and wordlessly, they headed back to the house. Lee was grateful that he didn't have to explain beyond that. He didn't much feel like telling Benji that his wife sometimes came home smelling like someone else or that he'd yelled at her more times than he'd care to admit.

With Benji, none of that needed to be said.

xxx

November brought icy winds so strong that there was hardly time to enjoy the colorful leaves before they were ripped right off the trees. One night left an unexpected sheet of frost for the next morning, and Lee had to bundle Clementine up with four layers of sweaters before sending her off to wait at the bus stop, shivering alongside her classmates.

"Now, you should be warm enough until I can buy a winter coat," Lee told her. "You're not allowed to freeze okay? I just got used to having you around."

"Hey!" laughed Clem, trying to wriggle out of the scarf he was wrapping around her face.

Lee drank a scalding hot cup of coffee on the way to work and refilled his travel mug once he reached the teachers' lounge. He had been jittery all week for non-caffeine related reasons, so he figured it didn't matter either way. The lounge was decorated with paper turkeys and cardboard leaves, as if Lee needed a reminder.

"You not a fan of the décor?" It was Carly, the journalism professor. She was pouring pumpkin spice creamer into her coffee with a wry smile on her lips.

Lee shrugged. "Reminds me of how they decorate Sunday School classrooms."

Carly stirred her drink, the spoon clinking against the ceramic mug. "Come on. Hand turkeys? You've got to admit that's pretty cute."

Lee returned her smile, but he really wasn't in the mood for the holiday.

He trudged through the day, checking his watch every ten minutes as if it would somehow give him more time. Because the students were testing, his job was to sit on his ass until the hour was up and then tell them to "Have a good break." He almost wished his students were not so laser-focused on their tests. At least if they were rowdy it would give him something to do. But his mind wandered and kept returning to his mother's house on the edge of the creek, leaves dead and brown and littering the lawn.

"Have a good break, Professor!" called some of the kids on their way out the door. Lee waved distractedly, sliding the ready-to-be-graded tests into a folder. The lecture hall hummed quietly and it was these rare moments alone that the feeling of being suffocated returned, and the memory of his brother nagged him. He knew that if he put this conversation off another day, his insides would probably rot.

"Fuck me," he growled, shouldering his bag and making a beeline for the glowing Exit sign.

How many days had passed since his release? A hundred? Maybe more? And how many of those days had Lee thought about the business he'd left unfinished and the words he'd avoided? He was hardly aware of getting into his car and driving faster than the speed limit suggested, and when he saw his station wagon's reflection in the Pharmacy's glass double-doors, he hit the brakes. Lee followed his feet right up to the old place, heart pounding against his ribcage. The tiny bell sitting atop the door announced his arrival, and it seemed to ring much louder than tiny bells should have been able to. Lee stepped into the uncomfortably warm store, the shelves of vitamins and supplements closing in too tightly on either side. The strong smell of medicine enveloped him as he walked down the tiny aisles.

"Can I help you with something?" came the low voice from behind the counter.

Lee turned towards his father, who took a long moment to peer through his glasses as if making sure he wasn't seeing a ghost. "Lee?"

"Yeah," Lee said, hands in his pockets. "How are you, Pop?"

Pop came around the counter, cane tapping the linoleum floor. His back had a rounder curve than Lee remembered, so Pop looked like a large bear hunching over the ground in search of a small, easy meal.

"Lee," Pop growled. Not a question this time. "A little late, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?" Lee asked, even though he had a pretty good idea.

Pop shook his head from side to side, already in disagreement. "I really think you've missed your chance, son. I'd get out of here before your ma sees you."

Lee had not expected a prodigal son type of reunion. He knew his father was too proud to drop everything and fling his arms around his son in a tearful embrace. Honestly, Lee didn't know what he expected, but he had hoped it wasn't to be sent back on his way.

"Pop, let me just say one thing," Lee began.

"No, no. You're done."

That's when Lee's mother came in from the back room, arms filled with papers and folders, which she almost dropped on seeing Lee. Her wide brown eyes darted from him to her husband and Lee had the sudden, primal urge to reach for her.

"Ma, please let me say something," Lee said quickly.

She was thinner than he remembered. Her voice was hollow, as if the sweetness had melted due to too many hot days. "I don't know what you want from us," she muttered.

Lee held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, not unlike the time when the police showed up at his front door some years ago. "Please."

"There's nothing you can say."

Lee's throat stung. "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I treated you the way I did all those years. I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I landed myself in prison. I'm sorry I couldn't be here for the…for the funeral."

Whether there were customers mingling behind the shelves overhearing everything, Lee never knew. The air hovering between himself and his parents was charged and ready to burst, rain coming in the form of tears down Ma's face. She leaned on her husband, both of them broken pillars Lee had thought used to be so strong.

"Our son is dead," Pop said, voice straining. "And you weren't here."

"Don't you think I wanted to be?" Lee said. "Do you think I wanted to be in prison when Benji died?"

His mom choked back a sob. Pop held her tighter in his gnarled hands. "You need to stop right there, boy," he warned.

"Fuck you!" Lee was trembling. "I tried everything in my power to get furlough. You can't possibly blame me for not making a good appearance at the funeral. I loved my fucking brother, and I didn't even get to say goodbye!"

"ENOUGH."

Pop's voice was like a blast of thunder. Lee shut up quick, panting furiously, waiting for the next blow.

"Maybe this will finally teach you what I could never get through your head," Pop said dangerously. "Your actions have consequences, Lee. You could have been there to say goodbye to your brother if you had not let your anger get the best of you."

"Wait—"

"Don't interrupt. Now, you can keep blaming the system for your problems, or you can accept that you made a mistake and now you're paying for it. Don't be angry at me or your mother. You've got no one to blame but yourself, and that means you're the only one can bear that burden."

Lee wanted to bite back with everything he'd been holding on to since Ma had called him in prison with the news. But every hurtful word and spiteful thought evaporated in the moment that Lee realized that, for once, his father was right. His parents had not put him in prison. Lee's parents hadn't kept him from calling them or Benji while he was in there. Lee's choices were all his own. He knew he'd always have to earn their love and respect, and he'd blown it at every turn.

Lee had come to his parents' store hoping for an ounce of understanding, but it was clear that he had ruined any chance at redemption. No one else was responsible.

Without a word, Lee nodded a goodbye to his parents and left. His reeling thoughts were on mute as he drove down the street, suspended in blissful silence.

It was only when he turned down the secluded back roads did he slam on the breaks and let the sobs rack his body.

xxx

Quiet mornings were rare and always welcome. Most Mondays were spent rushing around the kitchen, throwing together lunches and making sure Clementine had her homework completed before sending her off to the bus stop. Today, however, Lee sipped his coffee and watched as a sprinkling of snow fell quietly onto the front lawn like powdered sugar. Perhaps there was one thing good about Thanksgiving break.

Unfortunately, the days off left too much time for thinking.

Clementine entered the kitchen bleary-eyed, but pleased at the newly fallen snow. Lee watched her eyes brighten at the sight of the glittery lawn.

"Can we go sledding?" she asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He didn't have the heart to tell her that there probably wasn't enough snow to support a sled. "Why don't we get you a real winter coat first?"

Clementine nodded eagerly.

They skipped the car and went on foot to The Coat Barn—Clementine's insistence—and she spent an hour trying on things that doubled her in size and made her look like various types of marshmallows. Lee sat and waited patiently, eyes going to the window more often than not. Clem finally settled on a light blue one with a fuzzy collar, and he bought her a hot cocoa for the walk home.

"Where are we going, Lee?" Clementine asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" he replied, then realized where he had led them. The street was nowhere to be found; only trees huddled together. A brook babbled somewhere nearby. "Oh. Sorry, Clem. I guess I didn't realize where I was going."

Unfazed, Clementine hopped over to where the water slithered between the stones, watching the silvery reflections dance on the surface. Lee sat on a nearby rock, hands together, knowing exactly why his feet had taken him to this place. From here he could see the cedar tree that he and his brother used to play tic-tac-toe on. The carvings were still there, sharp and deep and almost black against the white trunk.

"Lee."

Clementine's voice brought him back to the present. Her big eyes shone with concern. This girl didn't miss a beat, even when he'd been trying for days to hide what was really going on inside. Since the confrontation, his heart felt blocked up. Nothing was getting in or out. Even Clem couldn't make him stir up a genuine smile.

She had sensed something was up.

"Yes, Clem?" Lee asked. He didn't bother to sprinkle a sweet note in his tone.

Clementine brushed snow off of her hands and came to sit on his rock, swinging her little legs inches above the ground. "Are you sad?" she said.

He gave a weak chuckle. "Is it obvious?"

"Yes."

Lee exhaled, his breath turning to a cloud and promptly dissipating. He redirected Clem's attention to the cedar tree—anywhere so she wouldn't be looking at his face. "My brother and I used to play here," Lee told her.

"Do you miss him?" she asked.

He couldn't remember telling her that his brother was gone. "Yes," he said honestly. "I feel…bad that I wasn't here when he died. I've made some pretty bad mistakes." Lee wasn't sure if he should be telling Clementine any of this at all, but it was pouring out with nowhere else to go.

"That's okay," said Clem easily.

"It's not. I abandoned my family, and I've made too many mistakes to get them back." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Clem, I shouldn't be—"

"Was I a mistake?" she said.

Lee blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "What?"

Clementine gazed up at him, dark eyelashes specked with fallen snow and cheeks pink from the cold. She was the only person that could have this effect on him; that immediate warmth that spread over the blockages in his heart. Something melted inside.

"Of course not," he told her.

"I would still be at the foster home if you hadn't found me. You read books with me and we do puzzles, and you let me bring bugs into the house. I want to find my parents, but I like having you as my family too."

Lee let her simple little words sink down to his core. Maybe he had left ruins in his wake and he'd never be forgiven for the things he'd done. But maybe, just maybe, there was room for change going forward. His parents' love had conditions, but his love for Clementine had none.

Lee swallowed warm tears and pulled Clem close, muffling her laughter in his jacket and nuzzling her hair.

This was his redemption, or at least, his chance at it.

xxx