Chapter 8: Broken

January 11, 2017

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Chapter Cast:

Darren, Male, 53
- Narrator, retired, father of Gwen and Victoria (Vic)
- 5’11, beige skin, 195lbs, cropped greying brown hair

Audrey, Female, 15
- High school student, daughter of Duncan and Theresa
- 5’9, pale skin, 135lbs, light-green eyes, straight auburn hair over her shoulders

Gwen, Female, 15
- High school student, daughter of Darren, sister of Victoria
- 5’5, beige skin, 130lbs, shoulder-length wavy black hair

Victoria (Vic), Female, 14
- Eighth-grade student, daughter of Darren, sister of Gwen
- 5’3, beige skin, 115lbs, wavy neck-length light-brown hair

Joyce, Female, early-80s
- Wife of Herman, grandmother of Audrey, mother of Theresa
- 5’6, beige skin, 115lbs, bobbed salt-and-pepper hair

I was up the next morning feeling determined. I’d passed the hardest part, I hoped, in talking to my daughters. Starting the conversation had felt like a mountain. Dealing with the aftermath seemed more like a serious hill. Not a minor trek, to be certain, but not quite on the same level as getting things kicked off. It had helped to have Vickie taking it well. And even with Gwen’s hostility and revulsion, the fact that she’d come out to talk with me by the pool late the night before was a concession in my favor and showed she wasn’t completely beyond reach.

I made coffee and sliced up some oranges to eat while I read from my news app. I didn’t have a juicer, and made a mental note to order one. I’d enjoyed the fresh-squeezed in Buffalo.

A text from Audrey had awaited me when I checked my phone. She told me she loved me and that she missed me. She also said that Vic had sent her a text asking to talk. Audrey wanted to know what to say. I sent back a long message conveying my love and told her that I’d said Vickie should reach out to her, and that they were free to talk about whatever they wished. Thirty seconds after I pushed ‘send,’ a photo of Aubrey blowing me a kiss arrived. I cringed a moment, realizing we were already taking a risk with our texts, it didn’t help to chance one such photo being seen by the wrong person. Still, I smiled when I saw her face. I missed her greatly.

Neither Gwen nor Victoria were up by the time I made breakfast. I whipped up some eggs and toast for myself, not bothering to make food which would be cold and unpalatable to teen girls who weren’t likely to stir in time to eat it hot.

Vickie was up before her sister, which wasn’t much of a surprise for many reasons. Usually, the younger girl got up first and somehow always seemed to be alert and functioning regardless of the hour. Gwen, however, was a reluctant riser, and I figured it would probably be after noon before I even saw her. “Morning, Sweetie.”

“Morning, Daddy,” Vic replied.

I loved that my fourteen-year old still called me ‘Daddy.’ Even though it sounded somewhat little-girlish, it let me cling on to the belief that my girls were still too young to have adult concerns. Of course, especially after what I’d revealed the night before, any such beliefs were dashed hard and without a chance to return. That made me appreciate Vickie’s words all the more.

“Hungry?”

“Not yet,” she replied, sitting next to me on the couch, carefully easing her broken leg up onto an ottoman.

“Everything okay?” I asked, noting her downward-facing eyes.

“Yeah, just thinkin’,” she replied, but didn’t elaborate.

I knew Vickie well enough to know she would talk to me when she was ready, so I let her sit in silence while I pretended to read the news. Inside, I was nervous. Even after passing the rough reveal the previous day, there was still a lot to talk about. A lot of minefields still lay ahead. And not just with my daughters. I hadn’t exactly left the conversation with Joyce and Herman on a good note, and the ramifications of that would soon have to be faced.

I made Vickie oatmeal with blueberries and cream, then brought her the bowl so she could eat on the couch. As she ate, I asked, “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

Vic shrugged, taking a mouthful of oatmeal and chewing it a moment, then she said, “Gwen isn’t happy with this.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “She’s upset. She has a right to be.”

Victoria nodded, then said, “I should be too, right?”

“I wouldn’t blame you, Vickie. This is a big shock to everyone. I am so sorry this is affecting you both. I didn’t want that.”

“But,” my daughter replied, “you had sex with her anyway.”

“Yes...”

“Did you know Gwen would be upset?”

“When I started thinking about what this meant ... yes,” I answered meekly.

“So you upset her on purpose?” Vickie asked, looking at me.

“No, not on purpose, I just ... Look, I didn’t really think all this through. I should have. I didn’t. And ... I’m sorry. If I’d have thought about things like this before ... before I fell in love with Audrey ... Oh, I don’t know,” I said in exasperation, “I don’t know what might have happened. You and Gwenny come first, Vickie. Always. You come first to me, and I’m sorry I didn’t think this through.”

“Too late now,” Vickie replied quietly.

“I guess so. Too late to undo it, yes, but...”

“Would you?” my youngest daughter asked. “If me and Gwen wanted it to end, would you stop it?”

“I, uh, I...” What did I say to that? Would I even consider such a thing? I had to, right? If my daughters, the two most important people in the world to me, before and after Audrey, demanded that this end, what choice did I really have? “I want to say yes, Vickie, but ... but it’s not so simple.”

“I know that, but if Gwen or me said to stop it, to break up with Audrey, you would.” It wasn’t a question.

I could only stare blankly. This was not the daughter I thought this conversation would come from.

I heard movement and realized that Gwen had been listening. She stepped into the living room and stood staring at me a moment, visibly angry. She growled, “End it.”

“Gwen—” I tried to explain.

“I said end it, Dad!”

I looked at Vic for support, but her expression was muted and the girl made no move to interject on my behalf. “Gwen ... I can’t just end it like that. It’s complicated.”

Gwen stewed, crossing her arms. “I don’t like this one bit. I don’t want you dating someone my age! It isn’t fair and it isn’t right. You’re fucking this all up for us!” She stormed out of the room and I hung my head, defeated.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Vickie said softly. “We talked last night. I knew she would say that...”

I couldn’t respond, crushed.

It seemed I was at a decision point, one I had feared as a worst case situation, but I’d never really expected to have to choose between my daughters and my young girlfriend. How would I even go about it? How could I do that to Audrey?

How could you do this to your daughters? My inner voice chastised me and I realized how thoroughly selfish I’d been. It wasn’t like I’d started dating someone appropriately-aged and was not spending time with my girls. That would have been a breeze compared to what was going on. Audrey was fifteen, Gwen’s age. I knew the risks, both legal ones and those domestically with my daughters, even if I’d chosen to ignore or underestimate them. I’d chosen to be with Audrey, and I’d known, deep down, what sort of chaos that threw my home life into. I knew it might not go well with Gwen and Vic. I never, though, expected that I would have to choose my daughters or my lover.

I had no choice, and I knew it.

I started crying, holding my head in my hands.

I never cried in front of my daughters, not since their mother had died. I rarely felt the need, but on the times when I cried, I hid myself in my bedroom and kept myself there until it passed.

Vickie watched me, I knew, but I couldn’t stop the tears. I have to tell Audrey we can’t be together. Oh, God! I felt a horrible hollowness at how it was going to hurt Audrey, how she would be without someone she depended on emotionally. Her father was dying and I couldn’t be there for her! Oh, God!

I ached and hurt for myself and for Audrey. That, too, was selfish, given that Gwen was hurting, too. But in that moment, full of anguish and anticipating an excruciating conversation with Audrey, I couldn’t think of anyone else.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Vickie said again from a distance. “Sorry...”

I sniffled but my voice was thick and I couldn’t so much as acknowledge her words. My head rose slowly and I tried to offer her a fake smile, but I could only frown and let the tears flow harder.

I saw movement again, and I looked up just in time to see Gwen turn from where she had been hiding behind the dividing wall. Her eyes were full of tears, though she tried to turn away fast enough to not be seen. She disappeared towards her bedroom, and I heard the door close gently behind her.

Gwen’s tears just made me feel more awful.

I lost most of the day wallowing in my anguish. I tried several times to rise but failed each time, even as my bladder threatened to burst. Vickie came and went, checking on me, on me!, from time to time, hobbling on her crutches, balancing well enough to rest her hand on my shoulder as if to let me know that things would get better.

It was hard to believe that. I still had to talk to Audrey, and I just couldn’t believe that I had to tell her our relationship was over. I burst into tears again at the thought of her crying upon hearing my words.

Vickie brought me my phone in the early evening and said, “You’ve missed a few calls, Daddy.” She didn’t need to tell me who they were from.

I sniffled and wiped my nose on the tissues Vic had brought me, then leaned back on the couch. I felt awful, achy, my head thick and sluggish. How could I even thank Vickie for being kind to me when my throat was so constricted. I managed, “Tas” and she seemed to understand.

I held my phone as Vickie shuffled away, the crutches making a thud each time she moved forward. I hadn’t seen Gwen in hours. I assumed she was still in her room.

I took several deep breaths and tried to get this horrible moment over with. I brought up my screen and saw three missed calls from Audrey, as well as a couple of texts. The first one said, “I love you, Darren.” The second said, “Called you twice. Can we talk?”

There was a voice mail. I hit the button to listen.

“Hey, Darren,” Audrey’s voice sounded strained, “maybe you’re out or something. Sent you a text and called when I got home from school. Hope you are okay. We need to talk ... Love you, Darren.”

I managed to get up to pee and felt like my legs belonged to someone else. I returned to the couch and sank heavily onto the cushion.

My hands shook as I sat with my finger hovering over the call button on Audrey’s contact screen. I struggled, trying to will myself to hit it. It was like trying to run against the winds of a hurricane. Every time I thought I could do it, another hard gust knocked me back. At least my tears had stopped, for the moment.

My finger dropped and the call attempted to connect. I stared at Audrey’s picture a second, then put the cell on speaker.

“Darren?”

“Hey, Audrey,” I said, my voice thick and scratchy.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly but reservedly.

“I, uh ... I ... I talked to my girls...”

“I know,” she said, much more quietly.

“You, uh ... you do?”

“Vickie called me an hour ago...”

“What did she say?” I worried that my daughter had already broken Audrey’s heart by telling her what had happened. I started to become furious. That was my responsibility! Mine! But part of me also hoped it was done so that I didn’t have to be the first one to break such horrid news.