-Chapter 4-

I decided to not acknowledge the text for now. It was almost ten o'clock. I'll respond tomorrow and convince him I was asleep. But until then, I had to think. I walked down to the kitchen, refilled my wine, and then sat on the couch to watch TV. But of course, I couldn't pay attention to whatever I was watching. My thoughts were elsewhere.

It's been so long since I've felt the warmth of a man. My last relationship had been almost a year ago. Jack and I were never serious, anyways. We shared a few kisses, and he held me close to him once to keep me warm when it was cold; but that was it. But one day, he just up and left. I didn't hear from him until several months later when he magically showed up expecting things to be okay...I also found out around then that his divorce wasn't even final. Plus, on top of that, he was my ex husband's marriage councilor. Actually, looking back, our whole relationship was kind of messed up.

That alone brought a whole new line of ideas to my mind. Brock and Barbara Jean. Their relationship was rocky lately. About two months ago, Brock decided to move back into his condo, and they're working on the divorce papers now. I guess I should be relieved... Their split was some-what expected, and something they each wanted. It was easy, with few hard feelings or regrets. And that's good. Especially with the kids- they don't need to see another messy divorce. But at the same time, I don't think they need to see another divorce at all. Sometimes, I get so worried about them. Seeing their father go through two divorces, one of them involving cheating, must be hard on them. I want them to grow up knowing what true love is. I don't know how to set an example, when I can't even find true love myself.

Just then, my phone rang. I jumped as John's face came to my mind. I reached for my phone and flipped it around, relieved to see Van's big goofy face on my caller ID.

"Hey Mrs.H, howya doing?" Ever since I first met Van, when Cheyenne first brought him home to meet me and Brock, I noticed something about him. Whatever he is feeling, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, you can tell it in his voice. And even with his casual cover-up, I could tell he was stressing something. Also, I heard the way his voice shook when he said 'Mrs.H', meaning he was probably about to get yelled at by me. I still don't understand why it's 'Mrs.H', considering me and Brock aren't married anymore. But then again, there's a lot of things about Van that I don't understand.

"Van, its 10 o'clock at night. What are you doing?"

"Well, um-Cheyenne I'm telling her, calm down!" I heard him yell. "You see- ''

"Van, what's going on?" Okay, now he was worrying me.

"Well Mrs.H, it's a long story. You see, Mr.H just came home and-''

"Just came home? Where has he been?" I asked.

"Okay, let me talk Mrs.H. When we all got here, he wasn't here. We tried to call him probably 100 times, but he wasn't picking up! He didn't leave a note or anything!"

"Van, why didn't you call me? Where was Brock? Is he okay?" I was so confused by this point.

"Well, ha, that's the funny thing. We were going to call, but Jake pointed out that if we didn't tell anyone, we'd have the whole condo to ourselves for the afternoon. So, um, we invited some people over and played some music...But it was all Jakes idea! You know how 13 year olds can be," I highly doubted it was Jakes idea, and anger was rising in my stomach. But I needed to hear the rest of his story, so I let him continue. "Everyone was out of the house by 9, because around that point we were starting to get worried. We were cleaning up everything when Mr.H came home." He stopped to catch his breath, and I realized that that was probably the only reason he called me. To tell me that.

"Van are you serious? Your wife's father is missing, and instead of showing a hint of concern, you throw a party? You're a father for God's sake! Where is Elisabeth? Was she there? How about Jake and Kyra...How do I know y'all weren't doing drugs? Van, are you listening to me? Sometimes I swear to goodness I wish you were my own kid so I could beat you silly!" I was beginning a new rant about how he hasn't been helping Kyra with her homework like he promised, when he cut in.

"Mrs.H, Mr.H was out drinking again." So that's what he wanted to say. I got silent.

"Oh.." I felt speechless. "Do I need to come get y'all?" I asked quietly.

"No, he's passed out on the couch. Cheyenne says we'll be fine here tonight. He looks a little sick in the face, so Cheyenne wants to stay and keep an eye on him."

"Did the kids see him like that?" My voice was quiet. Van had never heard me so fragile before, but these last few weeks he's been seeing it more and more. And he understands, too. As much as I like to pick on him, he is a sweet kid.

"Elizabeth was asleep, but Jake and Kyra did." I could tell it hurt him to tell me this. It was silent for a few seconds. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. Why was he doing this? He hasn't done it much, but every since our divorce, he's slowly gotten worse and worse. He was never a mean drunk, just a stupid drunk. Either way, kids didn't need to see their daddy like that. It also left me wondering what was going on in Brock's mind. As much as I try to hate him, the fact is that Brock and I shared something that most couples could only dream of finding. We had more than love. And even though we ended badly, I could never erase those feelings that are locked deep down in my soul. And, call me stupid, but I know that with every fiber of his being, Brock feels the same. You don't just 'move on' after what we shared. And now, knowing that is has stopped talking to his friends, stays home most of the time, and finds himself drinking alone at night, it breaks my heart.

But now wasn't time for emotions. I'm a mother whose children need her. The phone had been silent this whole time. My voice was raspy. "I'm coming to get y'all. You arn't staying there with him like this."

"But Mrs.H, Cheyenne won't-"

"Oh yes she will. Tell her she's not staying there. Her daddy will be just fine. He needs some quiet, though. I'll be there in 10 minutes. Be looking for me."

"But-"

"Van."

"Okay."

I hung up the phone, grabbed my robe, and threw on my boots.

The 10 minute drive to Brock's condo seemed to take ages. The street lights blurred my vision, and it was all I could do to see straight. It had began to drizzle, and the atmosphere seemed soft and fuzzy, slowly closing in around me on the small street. Again I wondered, why was he doing this? What kind of problems is he facing to bring him to this? I first noticed this after the first month of our divorce. I walked into his house to find him alone on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and crying softly. In our 20 years of marriage, I've never seen Brock cry. That was the first time. I remember it to this day. It scarred me to see the man who cared for me so much, who loved me so much, hurt the way he was. I prayed for him, and hoped for my sake that I never had to see him like that again. It didn't happen again until later that year, when Barbara Jean called me in tears, saying Brock was passed out in the kitchen. Other than that, it's only happened a few times, and the kids have never known. But he's had these kind of meltdowns 4 times in the last 3 months, and the kids saw 2, including this. I know Brock would never hurt the kids in any way while he was drunk- He wasn't that kind of person. But still.. If seeing him stumbling sideways with tears in his eyes disturbed me, it sure as heck would disturb them. And they didn't need that.

I sped up a little faster, wanting to get the condo as soon as possible. The rain was picking up and I didn't want to be driving in it. There were few cars out on the back road from my house into the part of town where Brock was, and it casted an eerie vibe on the road. Suddenly, a huge bolt of lightning lit up the sky, tearing through the blackness above me. It was followed by a blast of thunder, and my heart caught up in my chest. Not now, I told myself. I gripped onto the wheel tighter and pressed down on the gas a little harder.

I was almost to the condo when another strike hit, bringing with the kind of thunder that is quick, and loud enough to be heard from miles away. I jumped in my seat. I could feel my palms sweating and my stomach churning. My heart was beating fast. I felt anxiety set in as I saw the condo in my headlights. I grabbed my umbrella I kept under the seat, prepared myself to cover up what this storm was doing to me, and ran through the mud up to the front door, which was unlocked. I pulled off my boots and walked in, trying to make my shaky breath sound calm.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Mom? Oh hey. What are you doing here?" Kyra came around the corner. I could tell by the look on her face that she knew, even though she acted clueless.

"I'm here to take y'all home, honey. Where's your father?"

She looked down. "Up in his room laying down. I think he's asleep."

"Okay, thank you. Go get Jake and Elizabeth ready. I'm going to go make sure your father is okay, and then we're leaving." I walked towards his room, and completely avoided the thought of what condition he was in. I walked into his bedroom, feeling almost awkward, as if I didn't belong there. I hadn't heard anymore of the thunder or the rain. It was a strangely quick storm, which was odd yet relieving.

All was silent in Brock's room. He was laying face down on the middle of the bed, wearing his clothes from the day and not even bothering to take off his boots. I walked slowly towards him.

"Brock?" I stood on the side of his bed, looking down at him. He moved a little, and turned his face to the side. I could see a small cut and bruise under his eye, and I automatically wondered what he had gotten himself into. I sat down on the empty space on the bed and gently rubbed his back. "Brock, wake up for me." I whispered. Although he seemed to be out cold, I was surprised when he twitched a little, and then rolled on his back, peeking his eyes open just enough to see me.

"Reva? Is that shu?" He mumbled. I could hardly make out what he had said.

"Yeah, it's me. Brock, please come to your senses. I need to talk to you." He let out a low giggle, and I smelt alcohol on his breath. "Brock." I said sternly. I talked through clinched teeth, suddenly angry at this man who was doing this to our children. And me. I was angry for what he did. He broke my heart. And seeing him giggle while I felt as if I were dying on the inside made me very angry. "Get up. Now." He giggled again. That was it. I went into the bathroom, and filled the little cup by the sink up with cold water. I came back to the bed and poured it on him. He jolted up and cursed.

"Red, what thahell!" He slurred, almost falling out of the bed. I didn't attempt to catch him, and watched as he gripped onto the sheets at the last minute, and slowly slid down to the floor. There he sat against the bed with his legs spread and a dull, sad look on his soaking face. "Why'd shu do that?"

"Brock, what is wrong with you? Why were you drinking so much? And where did you go? Did you drive home like this? Oh Brock, you know better! Did it ever even cross your mind that this was your weekend with the kids? They needed you Brock! They need you! They need you to be strong for them, and you're doing this?" He looked at me with bloodshot eyes. I could see the sadness in them, and, as mad as I wanted to be, it broke my heart. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and then sat down beside him on the floor. I didn't say anything. Looking over at him, I noticed his head kept slowly falling as his eyes would close, and then right before his head dropped too low he would snap up and open his eyes, just to do it again.

I studied his face. He had more wrinkles than I ever remembered him having. Most were around his eyes. I looked closely at the bruise I had seen earlier. It wasn't a big one, and would probably be gone in a few days. But still, I wondered where and how he got it. I was lost in my thoughts and his face when he turned his head and looked at me. He just stared, and let out a low sigh.

"Okay, I understand." He awkwardly responded. I wasn't sure what he was referring to, but I let him continue. "It's just.. I can't... Keep goin.." He mumbled. My heart warmed and the anger left me. "I just can't." A tear pooled in his eye, and I watched him fight hard to keep it from falling. When it finally did, he let out another sigh and looked forward again. Not thinking, I reached over and brushed it off of his cheek. I kept my hand there as he turned his face and looked at me again. I slowly slid up his cheek bone with my pointer finger, and softly stroked the bruise and cut under his eye, hoping to erase it completely. He winced.

''What happened?" I whispered.

"I dunno." He responded, not looking away from my eyes. I moved my hand to where I was cupping the side of his face and brushing the bruise with my thumb, careful not to hurt him. I looked him up and down, trying to find anymore evidence of what had happened. Every time I came back to his face, he was staring at me. He didn't take his eyes off of me once. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew that it was too much for me. I wanted to make these feelings I was beginning to get stop before they became too big. Right before I was about to break the eye contact and move my hand, Cheyenne and Van walking into the room. They each stopped when they saw us.

Cheyenne looked at her father sympathetically. Van stood a step behind, and looked at me with an uncomfortable face, as if he had walked in on something he shouldn't had. "Is dad okay?" Cheyenne asked. Before I could answer, Brock began to move, and grabbed onto the sheets to pull him back into bed. He stayed on the floor and the sheets popped off of the bed. He started cussing, and kept grabbing for something to pull him up.

"He'll be fine." I mumbled under my breath as I quickly stood up and helped him into bed. He returned to the position I found him in, and I draped the covers over him. "Your dad is probably just a little stressed, what with the divorce and all." I said, trying to pass it off as not a big deal. "We need to give him some time to recover."

"Mom, no! Dad is in no state to be left alone right now. What if he hurts himself?" She whined.

"Why is Mr.H's pillow and hair wet?" Van asked in the background. No one acknowledged the question.

"Cheyenne, he is out cold. He just needs time to get it together. Now c'mon. We need to start heading home now, just incase the rain starts up again."

"But Mom-"

"Cheyenne!" I surprised myself at the way I yelled at her. "In the car, NOW." I practically screamed. She looked at me with a hurt and offended look, and then stomped out of the room. Van followed behind.

I turned around one last time, and stroked the side of Brock's face. He was in a deep sleep and already had drool going down the side of his mouth. I had so many thoughts in my mind at that point, but I didn't want to think of them. I pushed them away as I yanked off his boots and pulled the covers over his feet.

When I finally walked outside, I was relieved to see the rain had stopped completely, and pleased with the kids that they were all in the car waiting for me.

The ride home was long. No one spoke. Once we pulled into the house, I turned off the car, and we all sat there in silence. I knew I had to say something.

"Listen, kids. I'm not sure what's going on with your father. It's probably nothing big.. But we all need to be supportive of him, okay?" I heard muffled agreements from the backseat, all except Cheyenne, who was still upset that I yelled at her. "Just know he loves all of you very, very much." I fought back my tears, and then turned around to face them, smiling. "Now, we've all had a hard night. I suppose I'll forget about the little 'party' you guys threw." Jakes eyes got big when he realized I knew.

"It was all Van's idea!" He screamed.

"Okay, okay.. I said I'll forget about it. I know this hasn't been easy on any of us. So, how about we go inside and have some ice cream and then call it a night?"

"Ice cream this late?" Van asked in amazement. "Awesome!" Seeing his whole face light up made me smile.

"I know. Y'all don't go too crazy on me. You do need sleep."

They all jumped out of the car smiling and ran inside. Even Cheyenne, whose mood changed faster than a stop light.

After cleaning the mess in the kitchen and making sure everyone was in bed, I went to my room. It felt good to finally sink into my mattress. I was so exhausted as I let out a deep breath. I thought of the events of the day.. The weird, quick storm that came from no where, the look on Brock's face as he stared into my eyes, the helplessness I felt as I told Cheyenne she couldn't stay with her father.. Needless to say, I was ready for sleep. I drifted off into sleep within a few minutes. I shifted a little when I heard Jake sneak out of bed to go get more ice cream down stairs. I rolled over to my side when the rain started again, and the wind began to howl against the windows. But when my phone lit up by my bed and another text from John appeared on the bright sleep, I was far too gone to notice.