Broken Play Novel – I was caught in the spot by my wife. “Your semen’s in my hair, babe. That takes a minute to get out.” “Sorry, next round, I’ll save it all for that tight hip of yours. I know that’s your favorite.” I gave a little laugh. She walks out and wraps her lithe nakedness around me, then shoves her hand in my boxers, waking my shaft back up… It’s the soft whimpering gasp that stops her hand. A gasp that sounds as loud as a shot ricocheting several times off metal walls. Right before it lodges in your heart. A gasp that turns my blood cold. I know that sound. I’ve heard it before. It’s the sound my wife makes when she’s scared or hurt.
JUNE My husband betrayed me. As Drew dated in high school and college, I stood back, watching and waiting. Waiting for him to realize that he loves me as much as I love him. When he realized it, it was my happiest moment. That was until just five years into our marriage when I discovered he was with another woman. Sleep doesn’t come, no matter how hard I try. After a couple hours of staring at the ceiling, I give up. Instead of lying here longer, I decide to get on with packing some clothes. I grab two suitcases from the back of the closet and start filling them. I won’t stay in this house another night. Drew will be back at any time now, and while I could kick him out, that’s not what I want. He bought this house; he can keep it. Besides, if I accept the job offer the news I’d planned on sharing with Drew when I got to Los Angeles I won’t be staying in Seattle long. I can figure out my next steps when I finish this project. Maybe this will be what jump-starts my career again.
I’m a food and travel blogger, but the goal was always to do that professionally. Hosting a television series was my dream, one that combined my love of travel, food, and old, haunted places. I went to school for journalism and was working as a reporter for the local news station for a while when we lived in San Diego. I would probably be closer to my goal had I not quit for Drew. Not that he held me back or asked me to quit, but his career is demanding, and it was hard on both of us to be traveling. It made more sense for me to be there to support him. We thought I could hold my career off for a time until he slowed down. I never regretted the decision until now. Honestly, I love supporting Drew. It’s all I ever wanted while growing up. To be the girl he could always count on. He had so little in his early life, but he always had me. And my family.
He spent most of his free time with us from the age of eight. Drew was a constant fixture in my life. I knew early on that he had my heart, even if he didn’t reciprocate. Quietly suffering in the background while he dated his way through the Phoenix Valley in high school was just how I rolled. I traveled from my college in Oregon to his in California for as many of his home games as I could, even if he left the stadium with some random co-ed on his arm. He never had to love me for me to love him. Oh, when he did love me, my life was complete. Now I feel like a joke. I zip up my luggage and decide to take a shower. I should have done that as soon as I got home. Maybe it would have helped to wash away the memories. It doesn’t work, of course.
At least, I no longer feel like I have a layer of airport filth on me when I haul my luggage downstairs and set it next to the small case I never unpacked from LA. Reed isn’t awake yet, so I make a pot of coffee and take a cup to the only place in this house I like. The breakfast nook looks out onto a greenbelt behind the house. The thick evergreens always made me smile. They reminded me of Drew’s eyes. I could sit here and watch the rainfall for hours and not feel like I’ve missed anything important. Deciding now is as good a time as any, I turn my phone on. Within a few seconds, it’s practically vibrating itself off the table with all the notifications coming through. Texts, voicemails, missed calls, emails, social media—so many notifications coming from every source imaginable. I check Drew’s texts first. Drew: Junie, please answer the phone. Drew: It’s not what you think, baby, please. Jesus, do all cheaters say that same thing? I can’t imagine it works with any woman.
The last text from him was from this morning. Drew: I’m on my way back. Can we talk then? Let me explain. I love you. I ignore the voicemails and the social media notifications. There is a text from my best friend, Leighton. We were college roommates, and next to Reed, she’s the person I trust most in the world. Leighton: Check your email, Love. I’m sorry and I’m always here for you. Call me when you can. I don’t check my email or social media, not yet. I’d like to at least finish my cup of coffee first. Placing my phone face down, I stare up at the wall. There’s a picture of our wedding there. We married only weeks after Drew proposed, at a cheesy Vegas chapel no less. The only photographer was the chapel staff and my family with their phones.
But one picture was perfect. I stand in a simple lace baby doll dress, all white except for the light blue shoestring bow at my neck, looking straight ahead at the camera. A wide, brilliant smile plastered on my face. Drew, towering over me by a foot at six-foot-five, is looking down at me with the softest expression I’ve ever seen him wear on his ridiculously handsome face. All his attention was on me, and I remember thinking… finally. Finally, he’s mine, as I’ve always been his. What a farce. I’m rinsing out my coffee mug in the sink when I hear the security system chime as the front door opens. My stomach tightens and I focus on just breathing. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this conversation. Drew must see the kitchen light on because he heads straight here, straight for me. I don’t turn around. I can’t. Can’t look at him, can’t face him and what he’s done. He crowds me, pressing up against my back, his hands settling on the countertop to either side of me. Locking me in place. He’s warm, so warm. The smell of his aftershave permeates my senses. A smell that just days ago was the smell of home. Not anymore. I drop my head, and he follows. He breathes me in. “Junie.” It’s a whisper.
An apology, maybe. It’s not enough. Not nearly. “Why?” I ask. “I’m sorry, Junie. So sorry. I’ll make it right. I swear.” His words, so many with so little meaning. He keeps saying them as he turns me around. He spreads his empty promises across my temple, down my jawline, over my lips. I don’t know why I don’t fight it, except he’s so warm. I want to snuggle into it, let the heat take me away from this cold house. Drew’s lips are tentative at first, only until my lips part and my tongue meets his. It’s a dance we know well. He loves to k-iss. He loves to ki-ss me. He loves me? This is my Drew. My Drew whose strong palms cup my face, my shoulders, my breasts, as the temperature of our kis-ses rise. Somewhere in the back of my vacant mind, a question grows. Why am I not fighting him off? But it’s my Drew whose sweatpants my hands push down. It’s my Drew I kneel before. “June, no…” he says, trying to stop me, but my hand moves to his length.
Then he grows quiet, the space still and silent except for a soft ticking sound. Tick, tick, tick. The teal wall clock I hung to bring some sort of color to this large clinical kitchen mocks me from the other side of the room. Tick, tick, tick. My entire world is crumbling, and I can’t focus on anything but that sound. That stupid, innocuous sound. His hands reach to still mine. I look up into those green eyes I love so much. “Is this what she does for you?” I ask, managing to keep out the snide tone that I hear in my head. Sucking him off is something I rarely perform. Not for lack of trying on my part. He never seems to want that. And now I realize that he never seems to want it from me. Why would he, when he has her? Tick, tick, tick. Drew steps back, pulls up his pants, then turns from me. “Fu-ck,” he yells as he punches the refrigerator. It’s his throwing hand. His career. His money.
I can’t help but care, so I stand up. I pull an ice pack out of the freezer and press it to his hand as I check it for breaks. I glance at his face to see him staring at me like he doesn’t know me. The feeling is mutual, I want to tell him. I don’t. I don’t say anything. “Say something, June,” he pleads at the same time my phone rings. Call me a coward, but I use the opportunity to put space between us. “Hi, Mom.” “Sweetheart, what’s going on? It’s all over the tabloids!” She’s whisper-shouting, something she does when she speaks of something salacious or scandalous. The familiar behavior brings a smile to my face, despite everything. “I’ll call you in a bit and fill you in,” I say. “June. Are you all right?” “I will be. I’ll call you soon. Love you.” “Okay, okay. I love you, too,” she tells me before I end the call and pull up one site sure to publicize the end of my marriage.
And there it sits, the top post, complete with pictures. Pictures of me fleeing the hotel and Drew trying to flag down my cab. Those pictures aren’t the ones that feel like a thousand needles pressing into my heart. The ones causing that pain are the ones that follow. Fresh shots from this morning of Drew hugging his girlfriend on the sidewalk. Another of him cupping her face as they stare into each other’s eyes. One more of him kissi-ng her forehead as he loads her into the back seat of a car. Yesterday, all I had seen of the woman was n-aked skin and wild blonde waves. I didn’t see her face. Now I see her all too clearly. Lorelai. Knowing who it is, knowing he stayed with her last night… shatters me. Frays every thread I had holding me together. “How long, Drew?” The calmness of my voice shocks even me. I’m not calm. I’m pure rage. My hands shake, and my head pounds.
He doesn’t answer. “How long?” I turn back to him as I demand an answer. Drew swallows hard, so I know the answer is bad before the words even leave his mouth. “About a year.” It’s a quiet answer, so quiet I almost don’t hear the words that feel like a knife in my spine. I rush to the sink to make it there before the bile rising expels out of me. A year. Lorelai. He’s been with her for a year. Heaving and heaving, I empty myself of the coffee I just drank. I’m not even sure of the last time I ate, so there isn’t much else to rid myself of. I feel Drew’s hands move to gather my hair. “Do not touch me,” I choke out. My head is now chanting Lorelai, Lorelai, Lorelai, in between the ticking of the wall clock. I rinse my mouth out with water and wipe my face with a hand towel before I face him again. He looks terrified. Pale skin, red-rimmed eyes show he got little sleep, if any.
I would be concerned except… Lorelai, Lorelai, Lorelai. My fists clench, which only makes me aware of the wedding ring I so proudly wear. I gasp for breath, trying to stave off more dry heaves. “Junie.” “Stop. Stop calling me that.” My fingers go to the ring. It was Drew’s mother’s, who died when he was too young to remember her well. A ghost his father never got over, and haunted the halls of the house Drew grew up in. Not literally, of course, but her presence lingered all the same. I loved that he wanted me to have it. Now, it feels like a band of fire. I wiggle it off. His eyes find the movement, and his entire body tenses, his fists clenching tight like mine. “No. No, put it back.” Panic surges in his voice as water wells in his eyes. “Put it back on, June,” he commands. I’m helpless to stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes. Helpless to so many things, so many emotions.
“One day, I’m going to want the truth and the details, down to exactly how she sucks your who-re of a d-ick. And you will answer every thing,” I say through my tears. “But not right now. Right now, I need to get away from you and your stupid, beautiful face. It’s going to take time to not hate you with every fiber of my being, and you’re going to give me that time.” I push the ring into his hands, but he fights me on it, trying to push it back on my finger. “Put it back on, June. Put it back on!” “What is going on?” Reed yells to be heard above Drew’s pleading as he enters the kitchen. “She needs to put her wedding ring back on! Tell her, Reed. Tell her! She can’t take it off, she can’t.” Drew drops my hands and the ring tings on the hardwood. He stares at it and pulls at his hair. I can see the tears welling in his own eyes, and I look away. I don’t want to feel bad for him, to sympathize in any way. Drew doesn’t show that kind of emotion. Ever. “Will you tell her, Reed?” he asks quietly.
“Dude. You cheated on her. What did you expect?” Reed says. “With Lorelai,” I add, “for the past year.” Reed completely loses his composure at my words. Face reddening, he pulls Drew up, backs him against the wall, and keeps him there with a forearm to his neck. “Is that true, Drew?” Reed yells in his face, only inches away. Drew doesn’t answer, just averts his eyes. “I trusted you! I trusted you with Ju…” Spittle from Reed yelling lands on Drew’s face. “And you repay that by making Lorelai your – girlfriend? You dumb motherfuc-ker!” A sob escapes me, enough of a distraction for Reed’s attention to focus on me. Stepping away from Drew, he moves toward me. Drew tries to follow, but Reed pushes him away, and I’m once again wrapped up in Reed’s arms as he leads me out of the kitchen and toward the entryway of our house. Drew pleads with us both as we pass. “She’s not my girlfriend. It’s not like that. Just stay, please stay. Let me explain. I can make it right.”
He sounds like a broken record, on constant repeat as he follows us. I turn to him, letting all the anger, all my pain rush out. “Did you fu-ck her after I left?” I demand as I push on his chest, shoving him away from me. “No! No, June, no.” “Why not? You stayed with her. Or did my showing up because I had something important to talk to you about ruin it all?” “What? What do you mean, what happened?” His eyes search mine. “Oh, now you want to talk to me. Now that Lorelai isn’t here, na-ked with a ready a-ss for you to fu-ck? You stayed with her! That moment in your hotel room ruined me. That would have been hard enough for me to survive”—my voice shakes—”but then you tucked her away into a car this morning. A sweet goodbye for the entire world to see. For me to see. You put my pain on display to be mocked by others. There isn’t a way for you to make that right.” “No, no, this is on me. I’m sure I’ll get a rash of sh-it, but this shouldn’t land on you, June,” he states naively.
Reed laughs. “Dude, we all know that’s not how this works. June’s right. Public opinion will eat her up just as much, if not more, than you.” “All due respect, Reed, but shut up. This is between me and June.” “Are you sure about that? Sounds like it’s between you, June, and your fu-cking mistress, Lorelai Simmons.” As soon as the words hit the air, Drew lunges for Reed. Arms tangle as they push and pull, yelling obscenities at each other. I can’t force myself to step in until Reed lands a full fist at Drew’s jaw, drawing a small amount of blood at his lip as he staggers back, eventually dropping to his knees. “Stop…” I sigh. “Just stop. Reed, can you take my bags to my car? Give us a minute?” His eyes don’t leave Drew, who isn’t even attempting to rise to his feet. But he nods and does what I ask. Never have I seen Drew look so weak. Sometimes, when we were very young, after an awful scene at home with his father, he’d show up at our house pale, sad, vulnerable—a child in need of some tender, loving care. But there was always strength in his dark green eyes, a determination.
It’s not present now. He looks defeated, and it occurs to me he never realized completely how his actions would affect my life. Drew always had self-obsessive tendencies in relationships. Oblivious to the pain he may have caused all the women who came before me. Selfish isn’t a word I’d use to describe him. He’s not that. He’s a giver at heart. Drew is always overly generous when gift-giving. Two Christmases ago, he gave my mom a full, state-of-the-art kitchen remodel. She had made an off-hand comment about possibly needing to replace her aging oven, as it was baking hot. He could have replaced that one appliance and she would have considered it too large a gift. An entire kitchen had her in tears and arguing with him for twenty minutes about how she couldn’t accept it. He didn’t relent, telling her he’d do whatever it took to keep her homemade oatmeal raisin cookies coming. My favorite cookie. He hates them as he was always biting into one, thinking it was chocolate chip and then being disappointed. He also gives a strict fifteen percent of all his salary to charities.
Something he has done since his very first contract when he was drafted. He spreads it between various women’s and children’s nonprofit organizations. He visits the Seattle Children’s Hospital twice a month and volunteers at the food bank a handful of times a year. Not a bit of it is for publicity. I guess being unselfish with your money and time doesn’t keep you from being a cheating as-shole. Or from thinking everything you do comes without consequence. He will have to pay some now, but I can’t help feeling that I, too, am in deep debt to them. “I’m going to get a room at a hotel until… well, for a while. I need the space, Drew. You need to respect that,” I say firmly. His head stays bowed, staring at the cold granite tiles in front of him. “She’s not my mistress. It’s not like that, June. I love you. You know that.” The hard truth is I do know. He shows me in so many ways. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for me or give me. He can’t even be in the same room as me without being near me, usually touching me. I’m not sure he’s even aware of how attentive he is to me.
“Do I? I’m sure it was your love for me that drove you to Lorelai’s arms.” My hand shakes as I bring it to my forehead, kneading, trying to ease the first waves of a headache. “I don’t know how to explain it. But I want to. I want a chance to make it right. Please don’t shut me out, Junie. You’re all”—he clears the tremor in his voice—”you and Reed are my family. I won’t lose you.” That’s what hurts the most. Drew has always been and will always be a part of my life. A part of my family. He’s a second son to my mother and losing her connection to him would cause her immense pain. And Reed, well, he and Drew have a bond that is so strong. I don’t want to be the reason it weakens. “We’ll always be family, Drew. Right now, I just don’t know what that looks like.” He stands now and steps toward me until he’s only a breath away.
“Promise me we’ll talk. We can go to counseling, work on this, work on us. I’ll go alone, too. Whatever it takes,” he says, determined. Sighing, I respond, “We’ll talk. I’ll let you know where I end up, but you need to give me time. When I’m ready, I’ll tell you. I can’t promise it will be soon.” Tears spill from my eyes again. “This hurts, Drew. So much. I don’t even know who you are.” All at once, I’m encompassed by his long arms. His warm body tightens around me. On one hand, I want to push him away, fight him off. On the other, I want the comfort he’s always brought. I hate this confusion. It’s like a civil war breaking out in my body. My head battling against my heart. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” Drew whispers against my temple. I can’t stand to hear it again. Finally, pushing away, I walk out on the love of my life.