Walking on Broken Glass (46 page)

“Wait, I know I’m not supposed to talk, but I’m really confused.”

He pushed his plate away. A plate he didn’t have to cover because most of his food was still on it. “Go ahead. I know it's confusing. It gets worse, so ask now.”

Dread just tapped on my shoulder. “They pulled you away from Morgan to do this? Why didn’t they talk to you first? They’ve told you since before college that the business was yours to inherit.”

“My father said he figured I’d never leave Morgan unless another company gave me an over-the-top offer or unless they offered me part of their business. Well, they couldn’t control an over-the-top offer, but they could lure me away with their percentage. I couldn’t buy-in, my father said, if I stayed at Morgan. So, they gave me forty-nine percent.”

He slumped in the chair and stared at the table. “All those years my father joked that he buys and sells and doesn’t even need merchandise. And now I’m the merchandise.”

Not once had rage crept into his voice. But quiet resignation and defeat crawled all over him.

“They said they didn’t include me in the buy-out discussion because they didn’t want my hesitation ruining the deal for them.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. They could’ve sold a hundred percent without you.”

“Yes, but in their minds, that meant I might never own a business. He pushed his palms into the table. “Do you mind if we sit outside? I’m not hungry, and …”

I carried my plate and glass outside to the patio table. Carl lit citronella candles to discourage the mosquitoes. He pulled out a chair for me, then sat in the one next to mine. The thick night air closed in around us.

He unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and folded the cuffs up— equal widths of course. “I devoted my life to them, to being the son they wanted.” Carl sounded broken. “I went to the college they wanted me to attend. I wasn’t given a chance in their business when I graduated. I didn’t question their decision. Then they sell me out. Manipulated the entire chain of events. Orchestrated it all.”

A coil of anger wound itself around the solid brick of resentment in my gut, and I wanted to fling the entire contraption at Carl's parents. But a familiar breeze stirred in my consciousness. I leaned back as Carl continued.

“In fact, that night at the club when they found out you’d been at Brookforest for drinking, they wanted to talk to me because they knew this deal was in the works. Hate to say it, but they didn’t care about you. They were afraid of any scandal. That's what they told me that night. They wanted to know if very many people knew.” At this point in the telling, Carl's demeanor shifted. His indignation resurrected his betrayal.

“That depends if you count the AA people,” I said, “but we don’t share last names. Lucky for your parents.”

I pushed a chair over and propped my feet up. We never did install that fountain we talked about. It would have made for a much more soothing backdrop than the neighbor's kids jumping like human popcorn on their trampoline in the yard behind us. In a few years, there might be payback from this backyard. I consoled myself with that.

“What really infuriates me is they told me they did this for me,” he said. “To help me. To give me a chance at a life like theirs. They were saving me from myself. And what they were really saying is that I was too dumb to make my own decisions. They don’t understand what I’m so upset about. My mother suggested I was ungrateful.”

That breeze of recognition I felt earlier gathered wind. I understood more than he realized.

“After Vic's accident, they threw themselves into their business to kill the pain. They’d planned to turn it over to him. I knew that. But after he died, I was all they had. And I was never going to measure up.” He looked at me with genuine confusion in his eyes. “Did they think I was so stupid that I didn’t connect the beer they talked about in Vic's car to the crash?” He shook his head. “The home of the ‘no-talk’ rule. We all know Vic died because he drove drunk, but we’re not ever going to talk about it. I spent my whole life trying to be the good son. And look what it got me—betrayal. What was the point?”

He’d been talking to the cedar decking under his feet and didn’t look at me when he asked the question. The unspoken answer bored a hole through the family façade. Carl knew if he could see through the veneer that it meant everyone else could now see in. I reached for my glass and wished the water could dilute the swell of regret rising in my throat.

“When you went into Brookforest,” he said, “I felt like I do tonight. Betrayed, angry, resentful. Probably said some of the same things. Then you came out, and I expected the Leah who went in, but without a drink in your hand. But it hasn’t worked like that. Now my parents aren’t the people I thought they were. Or maybe they never were. Maybe they were like this the whole time, and I couldn’t see it. Where does that leave me?”

That leaves you where I began months ago.

I gathered his hands in mine. If trust could begin with this touch, with knowing our brokenness bound us to each other, it might be a place to begin. If not, it would be a place to end.

“I know you’re in pain,” I said, “and maybe this isn’t the ideal time to share this. But sometimes you can’t write a script for grace.”

He looked at me, a shade drawn over whatever expression might have been there.

I told him about Molly's breast cancer and what I learned was possible in a relationship. How friendship can sometimes take you places love is afraid to go.

I told him about the last two sessions with Melinda, what I had learned about myself, and how the seeds of fear that my mother planted grew in my relationship with him.

Serenity. Courage. Wisdom.

He didn’t say anything. The glare of street lights blocked the view of the stars. I felt surrounded by scowling white eyes.

“I blamed you for Alyssa's death,” I said. “I blamed you for not letting me go to her that night.” I let go of his hands and wiped the tears wetting my cheeks. “If I blamed her death on you, then it didn’t have to be my fault. I had the power to say no. Anytime. All those years, I could have said no. I just couldn’t see it then.”

He looked confused instead of relieved. “What does this have to do with my parents?”

Where are you, God?

“Nothing.” Confusion must be contagious. I wanted to be angry with him. I’d ripped my heart out and handed it to him, and he’d tossed it away like a child who plays with the wrappings instead of the gifts. Maybe I spoke too early, but it was too late to be careful with my words now. I tried again. “This is about us. Before tonight, I didn’t think we could save this relationship. Maybe this is a chance.”

“I don’t know anymore,” he said. “I feel like I don’t know you, my parents, myself. I feel like you’ve expected me to change along with you. Not like you’ve given me a list, but I almost wished you had. I thought if you fell in love with me back then, you could fall in love with me now. I thought you’d still love the Carl you married.”

The clarity of seeing myself in Carl broke me open, just like God's grace had intended. It struck the fault lines in my life. But I didn’t shatter. God used my weakness for His strength. Perhaps those shattered pieces could begin to fill the spaces between us.

“The Carl I married and the Leah you married no longer exist—at least not in the ways we expected. That doesn’t mean love is impossible,” I said.

Silence.

Carl stared at me as he did that day at the airport, curious, knowing, and yet not. “I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know myself or what I want. For so long, my parents steered my life, and I trusted them. Now the people I love aren’t who I expected them to be. I don’t know if I can be the husband you need. I don’t know if I can love the person you’re becoming.”

I hadn’t been able to predict that his parents were going to betray him because I couldn’t see past my own hurt—past how they felt about me. The winds carried me back to a grocery store. Apple juice. A sense of being outside of myself to see above the fog.

“If I’d known who I was, I wouldn’t have needed the time away to get well. You gave that to me.” Carl shifted in the chair. “Okay, maybe not so willingly. But you were still here when I came home, so you didn’t give up on me—on us. We don’t need to solve everything tonight.”

He covered my hands with his own. “I’ve always loved your intensity. At times I admired it. Sometimes it frightened me.” He sighed. “But there's just so much pain between us.”

“What are you saying?” The tug in my heart suspected the answer, but I needed to hear it from him.

He stood up and walked around the table, lowered himself on his heels, and placed his hands on my knees.

“I need to spend another month on the job I started. Or, I guess I should say the one my parents started. So, that's what I’ll do—stay one more month. By then, their part of the sale should be finalized. The office should be finished.”

He stood and drew me up toward him. “I need time, Leah. Time to catch up with you. Time to learn who I am. Time to learn who I can be.”

I had memorized his face so many times in anger; I couldn’t remember the last time I looked at him with love. I cradled his face in my hands. My fingertips brushed his forehead. What would become of us? Could forgiveness be enough?

“One month. You waited for me. Now it's my turn to wait for you.”

Discussion Questions

1. Molly puts her friendship with Leah on the line when she confronts her about drinking, and though Molly didn’t know it until later, Leah was ready to hear the truth. If you have friends involved in behaviors, either addictive or questionable, are you hesitant to approach them? What prevents you from having this discussion with them? If you’ve had a discussion with a friend, like Molly with Leah, how did that turn out? What difference did it make, if any, in your friendship?

2. Sometimes, like Leah, we believe we’re keeping our image under control. And sometimes, like Leah, we discover we aren’t. What perception did Leah want people to have of her? Her marriage? Why? Was the “emotional cost” paid by Leah for managing her image more than she thought?

3. What preconceived notions about people does Leah have that surface in rehab and AA meetings? Did this discovery influence your perception of Leah? Explain.

4. The author included Leah's personal journal entries. What were your feelings as you read those? How did the journals contribute to the novel?

5. Why do you think the author chose to reveal Leah's thoughts by interspersing the journals throughout the novel? How does writing about something affect your perceptions of the people involved and/or the situation?

6. Why do you think Leah married Carl? Would that be the same reason(s) Leah thinks she married him?

7. What are your thoughts about Carl? Does your opinion of him change during the novel? Explain.

8. Discuss the influence of family dynamics in both Carl's and Leah's family.

9. How important is Leah's relationship with God as she faces recovery?

10. Leah finds her physical relationship with Carl difficult, if not impossible. Do you believe Carl was as demanding as she portrayed him? In other words, is she a reliable narrator when it comes to their physical relationship?

11. What advice would you give couples who face intimacy issues in the bedroom like Carl and Leah?

12. Carl and Leah blame one another for what happened to Alyssa. Why?

13. Glass is a recurring motif in the novel. Discuss what it represents to Leah.

14. Does Leah use her humor as a shield or a weapon? Explain.

15. How is this a “story of unscripted grace”?

16. What does Molly really mean when she says that she and Devon can have fun in the closet?

17. How important does Leah's relationship with God become when she decides not to return to a
Southern Living
life?

18. Titles are always important. Why do you think the author chose
Walking on Broken Glass
?

Want to learn more about author
Christa Allan and check out other great
fiction from Abingdon Press?