The Last Exhale Part 7

14.

SYDNEY.

I drive into the parking lot of Pick Your Fit.

This is the same time I've run into Brandon here twice. I'm not here to work out this time. I'm here with an option.

An SUV swerves into an empty parking spot, almost swiping off my side mirror. A crazed-looking man who looks like he hasn't shaved since Jesus walked the earth jumps out, slams his door shut, does the same to the trunk after he grabs a bag out of it. He flings the bag over his shoulder and chirps the alarm to his truck on.

I slink down in the driver's seat, hoping he doesn't see me. He doesn't.

Everything in me tells me to leave the madman to his madness and drive home to a man of calmness. Why am I here?

I honk my horn, roll down my window. "Tough day?" I ask, throwing all sensibility out the window.

He slows his stampede, turns around with furrowed brows and flared nostrils. He sees me, smoothes out the anger in his face.

"Let me guess, every barber within a forty-mile radius was booked today and your wife used the last razor to shave her-"

Brandon just stands there and stares at me.

I put my attempt to be funny on pause. "I never was good at telling jokes," I say.

Brandon walks back toward my car. "Wasn't expecting to see you anytime soon."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting to see myself around here either."

"Ahh."

"C'mon. Where's the jokey-joke guy I met a few days ago?"

He shrugs broad shoulders. "Guess he doesn't want to come out and play today."

"Wanna talk about it?" I want to slap myself for asking that.

No response.

"Ohhhhkay." I turn my eyes away from him for a moment to break the stare. I restart the engine, tell him, "I came by to see if you're serious about running. If so, meet me tomorrow. Six a.m. Riverpoint Park. Google it if you don't know where it is. Show up a minute late and you'll just have to find someone else to help you train." I roll the window back up and put the car in reverse.

Once the kids are tucked in for the night, Eric and I retreat to our room. He goes in the bathroom, comes back out with string wrapped around his fingers, uses it to saw between his teeth. The popping sound makes me cringe.

"Babe, can you do that in the bathroom, please?"

He stops for a moment, sucking air through his teeth. "You check Kennedy's homework?"

"I looked over it a little after dinner."

"I think we have a little mathematician on our hands, don't you think?"

I go in the bathroom and pull out a string of floss. "Yeah, she's getting good. She's doing good in all her subjects."

Eric rinses his mouth out in the sink. "Hope we can get the same teacher for EJ when he gets to first grade."

The mention of teacher makes me think of Mr. Carter, and thinking of him makes me think of his twin. Brandon. Can't seem to forget about him even when I try. I avoid eye contact with my husband when I say, "Yeah, that would be nice."

I grab a handful of curls and plop them on top of my head with an elastic band. Wash the day's makeup from my face. I do idle things in the bathroom, trying to figure out how to tell my husband I need him to drop the kids off in the morning so I can go for a run. A run with another man, but he doesn't need to know all the details.

He's pulling back the covers when I saunter back into the room. "I'm thinking about running in the mornings before heading into the office. My legs feel trapped on the treadmill. I need to get back to what I'm used to."

"Sounds like a good idea. You always did say you prefer the outdoors versus running inside four walls."

"Exactly. Plus, these thighs act like they're finally ready to lose their winter weight. I need to take them to the next level."

Eric lightly slaps my thighs. "I've noticed and I like." He leans over, gives me a peck on the cheek.

Though I appreciate the compliment, I wish he would've said something before I made mention of it. It's like I have to point things out in order to get him to take notice. I scoop out some Vaseline from the jar in my nightstand, ma.s.sage it into my feet, in between each toe. Put my socks on to seal in the moisture while I sleep. "I was actually thinking about going in the morning. You could drop EJ off at daycare and I should be back in time to get Kennedy to school."

His lips turn down, head shakes. "I'm all for fitness, but tomorrow's a no-go."

"Why not?"

"Officer Bragg's memorial service. Thought I told you last night."

"Babe, it totally slipped my mind. I thought you said it was Sat.u.r.day."

"Nope, tomorrow. I was hoping you'd make it."

Last night, my mind was so preoccupied with training Brandon that I hadn't heard a word Eric said. I have no way of getting in touch with him to let him know plans-or in this case, demands-have changed.

I tell my husband, "I'll be there."

15.

BRANDON.

Andrew picks me up a few minutes after nine.

"Can't believe Melissa's letting you out for the night."

"Man, I can't either. She's been keeping me hostage in the bedroom."

"That's not a bad problem to have, Bro."

He shakes his head. "It is when you feel like your sperm is more important than your love."

Nothing I can say to that. "Want a drink?"

"Naw, I'll grab something once we get to the spot."

I tell him, "Let me change my shirt first. We're too old for this twin-dressing-alike foolishness."

He laughs. "Mom had us doing that nonsense all the way through high school."

"She would've had us doing it in college too, if we went to the same school."

"You ain't never lied."

We both chuckle at the memory.

After changing my black shirt to a white b.u.t.ton down, I grab my keys. "I'll drive."

"You won't get an argument out of me." He subconsciously rubs the scar under his chin.

My brother hasn't been much of a driving fan since his near-fatal accident over fifteen years ago after trying to make an eight-hour drive home for Thanksgiving with no sleep. NoDoz failed him not even two hours into the drive.

I called him up a couple of nights ago to see if he wanted to check out a new over-thirty dance club and restaurant on the east side of town. Figured we both needed to get out for some male bonding.

"It's pretty crowded out here," Andrew says once we pull up.

"Sure is. One of my coworkers said it's the best new thing in town for the grown and s.e.xy."

I follow the cars going toward the side of the building until I find an empty spot. No sign of a ticket attendant gives my wallet a sigh of relief. Since I don't have to cough up parking money, I go ahead and pay a twenty-dollar cover charge for both of us to enter.

Soon as we walk in, Carl Thomas circa 2000 pumps through the speakers. I can dig it. This isn't the atmosphere for a beer. I order up Hennessy and c.o.ke for the bro, a gla.s.s straight for me. I see he's found us a high-top table in the corner.

"It's thick in here," he says.

I'd been gone at least fifteen minutes. I slide his drink over to his waiting hands. "That it is."

"You've got that Southern thang I like," blasts through the speakers. A sly grin flashes across Andrew's face.

I nod my head for an explanation.

"Sometimes I can't believe I met my wife up in a club. Told her she'd be the mother of my kids before I even asked for her name." His smile quickly fades at the memory. Eleven years later and his declaration has yet to come to fruition.

"Let's not go there tonight, Bro. Tonight's supposed to take our minds off of the wives."

Andrew swallows his drink in one gulp, takes it straight to the head. "Yeah, you're right."

I raise a brow and squint an eye in his direction. Got to keep an eye on the half of this duo who can't hold liquor too well. We both cut the conversation to a minimum as we allow the drinks, music, and sights of beautiful women to take over.

The DJ changes the mood of music from soul music to a rapper known as the King of the South. The crowd goes from grooving to throwing arms in the air. Not a track I was expecting, but it seems to be working for the crowd.

My twin taps his watch to the three o'clock position.

I turn my attention to the right, toward the entrance. Nearly bite the inside of my mouth when a woman with bronzed, shoulder-length hair and signature high cheekbones walks through the door with two other women. She spots me immediately. The look on her face is stuck between fear and I-need-you-in-the-worst-way.

I acknowledge her presence with a shaky nod.

"That was intense," Andrew declares. "How do you know her?"

I give him the skinny on Sydney.

He slaps the back of my head. "Can't believe you were in the gym acting like me, 'bout to get me fired with your foolishness."

"Hey, she put the bait on the hook. I snagged with honor."

"She is nice on the eyes for sure," he says. "Had me second-guessing my vows when she walked into my cla.s.sroom the week before school started."

My eyes are still on her as I tell my brother, "Probably not worth the trouble for either of us." Though Sydney is very easy on the eyes-getting double glances from just about every guy up in here-I still feel my wife looks three times as nice.

"Sho' you right. Mom and Dad didn't raise us to be rolling stones. We married the women we wanted to marry."

I neither disagree or agree.

"Another drink?" Andrew offers.

"Yes, sir."

The slightly shorter, identical version of me leaves the table as Somebody Else's Mrs. slides into his place before he even reaches the bar. "I see you found a razor."

I smirk. "Yeah, and I wish you had seen your clock this morning and been where you threatened me to be."

"Please, please, please accept my apology about this morning."