It's The Brakes Todd

Why? The only question that crossed my mind as I pulled out of my driveway. Not why me? Not why her? But why now? Why would you do this now? Red light. My brakes keep screeching. You said they were fine. Then why are they screeching? The whys. The thousands of questions racing through my head. All starting with why. Green light. You left your jacket in my front seat. The night I had to pick you up for Shanigins. Shanigins. You know. The dusty brick building on the corner of Water St. and Saint Johns St. Where we had our second date. Played pool in the smoke filled room off to the left of the bar. Where the live band was butchering Billy Joel covers. We laughed and made fun of them, just like you laughed and made fun of me since I had never had Whiskey before. Then later in the night, feeling the whiskey on your breath. Red light. The most surprising thing is that I'm not sad. I’m not disappointed. I’m not angry. I’m enraged. I didn’t even come home early. I came home at the same time just like every other day. Every Other fucking day. I wake up, make you breakfast, make you lunch, clean the kitchen, go to work, come home, go to the gym, come home, make you dinner, clean the kitchen again, watch your shows even though you fall asleep, wake you up, you shower first, I go second, we brush our teeth, you shave your beard leaving hairs all over the sink, you go to bed and snore all night long. Then we do it again. Why did you think I wasn’t coming home? We’ve been doing this for twelve years. Twelve fucking years. Seventeen if you count when we were dating. As long as it takes a child to start kindergarten to finish college. Green light. I want to make a U-turn, go back and fight for you. Fight for the home we’ve built. Fight for us. For Sydney. I want to. How would she look at you? If she was here, and knew what you did. Knew how you broke us. If she knew that Mrs. Samson from across the street who baked her cookies when she broke her foot in 7th grade was in my bed fucking my husband. That’d push her even farther. It makes me wonder. Was it you? Was it your fault? Did she know? The day you found her, what did her baby blue eyes see before that. You worthless rat. I’m at the coffee shop now. My lawyer is texting me back. Does she care? Is this a cash grab? You broke me. You broke my trust. You burned me. She’s asking what I want to do. The D word. The big fat I take everything from you plus alimony. The fun stuff. That's obvious. But what do you care most about? Money? No. Our daughter we buried not even 8 months ago? No. Me? Hell no. No, the only thing you care about is yourself. Your precious ego that no one would ever be able to take away. Unless they’ve been with you since you’ve had nothing, and watch your heart that was once so pure, so caring, so loving, fucking rot. That only took about fifteen years. Lucky for me, I am the only person alive who was patient enough to deal with you. So I’m going to fill the paperwork out and not file. Then get in the car with the screeching brakes and drive back to you. 

“Amanda, I can explain.”

“What is there to explain Todd? Your dick was in the neighbor.”

“What can I do to fix this?”

“Do you honestly think there is anything you can do to fix this?”

“I will spend everyday for the rest of my life making it up to you. I love you. I am so sorry. Please just don’t leave” 

“I’m not leaving. I built my entire life, career, home, around you. I’m not restarting at 42.”

“Thank you Amanda. I love you”

“Don't touch me.” I walk up stairs to my bathroom. Your beard hairs are on the sink. Do I really want to go through with this? Is this the way I want my life to be? Yes. It’ll be easy. 

“Todd, my brakes are still screeching. Go look at them again. Check the brake pads.”

“Really? That's what you want me to do right now? Check your brakes?”

“Well, a week ago when they started screeching I asked you to check. You apparently did and said nothing was wrong. Everyday for the last week the screeching has been getting worse. It's loud. It's so loud you can hear it all the way from inside the house. Up here in our bedroom. The walls are thin Todd. So yes Todd, go outside, get under my car, and check my fucking brakes.”

You walk outside. 

I make myself dinner. Pour a glass of wine, and sit at my dining table. You pour a bowl of cereal and sit at the far end. 

“Amanda I’m sor-”

“Todd. I’m eating. And trying to enjoy the only good thing about today. My cabernet. So if you can not be quiet and eat your bowl of Wheaties, go somewhere else.”

You shut up. I finish my glass of wine and my plate. 

“Now, what were you saying?”

“Amanda, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t going to go away overnight. Maybe we can go to therapy and work it out.”

“That sounds nice Todd.”

“Really?”

“Yes, therapy could help us. Deal with Sydney’s death, your infidelity. All of it”

“Thank you. I just want this to work.”

“We’ll see.” 

We go to bed. You let me shower first, and cleaned up your beard hairs.

“Sleep in the guest room.”

“Alright.”

“I want you to take my car to the shop tomorrow. Have someone who knows what brakes are supposed to sound like go look at it.”

“Alright.”

You go. 

I slept in the next morning. I changed the sheets of course. I walked downstairs. You made coffee and eggs. 

“Good morning Mandy. How'd you sleep?”

“Like a baby. You know how comfortable our bed is. Did your guest say anything about how snuggly and cozy it was yesterday?”

“Did you leave last night?”

“No. I grabbed my work bag out of my car. I’m working from home today and tomorrow.”

“Oh okay. I just heard the door.”

Awkward silence filled the cold air around us.  

“I'm going to the gym. Take my car to my fathers shop.”

“Why can’t I just take it to the one down the road?”

“Because my father will take extra caution because he knows his child is driving it. And It wont cost me anything. Take it to my fathers shop. Don’t worry. He doesn't know about anything. No one does”

“Okay. I’ll leave around 12:15 so I’ll be there around 1.”

“Okay.”

“Drive safe, I love you.”

“Thanks. I'll see you tonight.”

I leave. I go to the morning class I usually don’t get to go to. It has the good trainer. Sarah. She pushes you without screaming. Motivational. Empowering. The evening class has Mike. He just screams. Ex-marine style. Not my thing. But it's the only class I can get to on the weekdays. 

“Hey girl, I'm surprised to see you today.”

“Working from home. Part of the luxury.”

Me and Sarah laugh. 

“What time do you have to log on?”

“Well I don't have any meetings today so it’s just answering a few emails.”

“All I’m hearing is you have time to get coffee.”

“Absolutely.”

We walked to the coffee shop across the street. The same one I sat at yesterday texting my lawyer about you. 

“So what's new?”

“Not much really. How about yourself?”

“Well the kids have been driving me nuts and-”

Sarah kept talking. Her perky smile, her vibrant personality, her bouncing blonde ponytail swaying back and forth as she moves her head while talking about her beloved children. Sydney used to babysit them. Three boys. Mason, Sam, and Liam. 6, 4, and 2. I don’t know how she does it. Sydney was such an easy baby, but three, so close in age. Would drive anyone crazy. But she's so sunny. I wonder if it’s an act. If she has ugly days. Where she's stuck in her house in dirty sweatpants, no makeup, and no bouncing ponytail. Are we all faking it? Is there shit going downhill for everyone constantly? You don’t want to be the downer in the world. You want to keep the ‘good vibes’. Whatever the fuck that means. I’m tired. I’m so tired. 

“But yeah that's about it.”

“I don’t know how you do it Sarah. You’re like Wonder woman.”

“Well you know, that's why I became a personal trainer. Working out gave me an outlet for all of that stress and-”

Here she goes again. I just keep smiling and nodding while I’m sipping my eleven dollar small coffee. 12:00.

“I am so sorry Sarah, I just got an email that I have to log into an emergency meeting at 12:30. I have to zip home.”

“No worries love. Same time tomorrow?”

“Perfect”

Lie. I just want the house to myself. I want to take a bath and play games on my phone. While I wait for phone calls. 

12:18. Home

You left on time. I saw you pull out of the driveway. Brake pads. Fucking brake pads. You should’ve checked them. You should’ve changed them. You should’ve made sure I was safe. You should’ve cared. You should’ve been there for me when I needed you. You should’ve stayed loyal. You should’ve loved me. As much as I loved you. I loved you Todd. I really really did. But I wasn’t going to go to therapy. I wasn’t going to spend thousands of dollars to get half of what was rightfully mine. I wasn’t going to settle. I wasn’t going to do any of that Todd. You broke us. Sydney dying just wasn’t enough was it. You did this. You. Not me. Brakes. Did your empty brain really think I didn’t know how to check my brakes. Did you really think I hadn't had a feeling this was happening? With Susan fucking Samson. But to see it. To hear it. To sleep in the same bed it happened. That was the edge. And you shoved me over it. 12:28. You should be getting to the bridge. The big one. That your grandfather helped build. Brakes. Brakes Todd. The funny thing about brakes is that you need them. You need them to stop. You need them to not hit things. Not to go over things. My work bag. Do you really think it took me 10 minutes to grab my work bag? 12:29. You're on the bridge. Approaching the curve that takes you to Carson county. Where my dads shop is. The shop I grew up in. The shop where we fixed brakes. Where we saw broken brakes. Where we checked for cut brakes. It’s easy to cut the brakes Todd. Very easy. Especially when you know the car. My car.  

The bath feels good. It's warm. My head is just above the water. So is yours. The difference is Todd, I can get out. 

12:57. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

“Good Afternoon this is the Carson County Sheriff's department. Is this Mrs. Amanda Hawkings?”

“Yes? IS everything ok?”

Ma’am, there's been an accident…