The Last Exhale (4 page)

“See, now that wasn't so hard, was it?”

“Not at all,” I tell her.

“If you have any questions or concerns about your experience here, my door is always open. This gym is all of ours.” She reaches out, gives me a firm handshake.

“Glad to know that.”

Since I had been eyeing the fitness center for a little while now, I knew today was the day to make the change. I packed a bag before I left for work this morning. I go back out to my ride, grab my bag and prepare to start a new life.

•  •  •

Time slipped away from me in the gym. I failed to notice day had turned to night. The manager's office light is out. I'm in here alone. I look up at the clock, see it's well after nine. I cut my MP3 player off, wipe the sweat off my face and neck. Refill my water bottle with fresh water, take a few gulps. Its metallic taste reminds me to get some fitness water tomorrow.

In the car, I pop in The Foreign Exchange. They're telling me to leave it all behind. That's exactly what I plan to do as I ride home with the windows down. Feel the warming breeze of seasons changing against my skin.

To my surprise, the aroma of basil, tomatoes, olive oil, garlic, and cheese permeate the room as soon as I open the garage door. I walk straight into the kitchen.

There's a single plate of lasagna and garlic bread at the table with a glass of wine. I notice a note next to the salad.

Sorry about the other night. Come upstairs when you're done.

I wash my hands, then touch the top of my food with my finger. It's still warm. I sit, say my blessings and dig in. Working out has given me quite an appetite.

Anxiousness almost causes me to choke as I toss the food into my mouth. Use the wine to wash barely chewed food down my throat. I put the empty dishes in the sink, wash them, and place them in the dishwasher to dry. Skip the stairs two at a time. Push open our bedroom door slowly. The wife's note in my hand.

“Rene?”

She's not in the room. I go in the bathroom, no Rene.

I check the office. No sight of her in there.

“In here,” she directs me.

The guest bedroom. Trepidation creeps in.

I smell her.

Jasmine, amber, sandalwood, and wild berries with a touch of her own sensuality filters through my nostrils and swells my lungs. The scent teases me, plays with my emotions. I breathe her in, push open the door, find her leaning against the windowsill. A black negligee dancing with her curves in all the right places. Desire makes my manhood throb. I look down at my dank gym shorts. Don't want to enter my wife smelling like I've been wrestling camels.

Rene notices my disposition. Tells me, “I'll wait.”

In a rush to get to the shower, I trip over my untied shoelaces and stumble on my way out of the room. “Damn.” I find my composure before becoming twice the fool.

The water hits my skin, causes me to swim in my thoughts. As much as I want to—no—as much as I need to make love to my wife right now, I can't help but wonder what sparked her change of heart. Just the other day, she refused to acknowledge our anniversary,
and now she's standing in the guest bedroom a fabric away from naked. I've been wanting this for a while now, but the thought slows my pace. Can't help it. It's the analyzer in me. It's what I get paid to do for a living.

I hop out of the shower in record speed, slather on a little lotion. Just enough to where I won't feel my skin cracking at the slightest movement. Throw on some boxers and look in the mirror on my way out the room. I backtrack, look again. Decide to remove the boxers.

Rene is in the bed when I push the door back open. Lying on her side facing the open window. She twirls a curl around her index finger.

I climb in the bed behind her, place my hand on her hip. Kiss the back of her neck.

She backs into me slowly, almost as if she's having second thoughts.

I rub her shoulder, plant kisses on it, try to get her to relax. It's been awhile since we've been this close. It's a little tense for both of us. Yet, not tense enough for me to let this moment pass, though. “Your skin's so soft.”

She turns to face me. “No talking.”

There's a lot I want to say at this moment. So much I want to ask. My hormones win as my wife straddles me. Her womanly part rests on my abdomen, my hands on her waist. Her eyes are on me, but she fails to look at me. Fails to look her husband in the eye as she lets me slip inside of her.

“Rene—”

“No. Talking.”

I raise her off me, my manhood no longer inside her dry cave. This isn't about making love to her husband or about calming the seas in our marriage. I see that now. She couldn't even get wet for me. Who's the fool here?

She rolls over to an empty corner of the bed. Turns her face away from me. “Close the door on your way out.”

“What's going on here?” I know she won't answer. She hasn't answered in the past few years I've asked.

“Not tonight, Brandon.”

“When, Rene? If not tonight, when?”

Her shoulders raise as a mountain of frustration flows from her lips. “I just want to be alone right now. Can you give me that?”

“No, I can't. I'm tired of this.”

My wife gets out of the bed, paces the floor. Pulls her hair over her shoulder, folds her arms across her chest.

I'm in the bed on my knees, watching her. I want to grab her and shake her until she loves me again, until the woman I married shows back up in this room. Feel like I've exhausted all possibilities. Don't know what else to say or do. Tired of having conversations with her silence. Tired of hoping, praying, wanting, wishing. What's the point of this? “I can't do this anymore,” I hear myself say.

Her back and forth footsteps refuse to miss a beat as I climb out the bed and walk out of the room.

Something tells me her heart will do the same as I walk out of this marriage.

Andrew pulls up to the pool hall not long after me. He's on his cell when he gets out of his car.

I wait for him to finish before I get out of mine.

He taps my hood.

We embrace.

My twin brother. Been connected since conception. No bond like it.

“Ready to pay up?” he says.

“Do I ever?”

He smirks. “You will tonight.”

We head inside. Order a couple Heinekens. Wait on a table to come open.

“How's Mel?” I ask.

He takes a big gulp of beer. I already know his answer. I'd respond the same way if he asked about Rene.

I move the questioning to one of his favorite subjects. “The school year been good to you?”

His face lights up. Totally different from the expression he gave at the mention of his wife's name. “Been real good. Hate that it's about to come to an end.”

I sip my beer. “That's how you know when you love what you do.”

“Can't imagine doing anything else.”

“Yeah, you've always been good with kids.”

Neither of us say anything for a minute. Both of us take a gulp of brew.

A table clears in the back. We grab our beers and pool sticks, head on over.

“You haven't said much about Rene. Everything cool?”

I hit the white ball so hard you'd think gunshots were being fired as balls roll around the table in a frenzy.

“Sorry I asked,” he says.

We play in silence for a few.

To clear the air, Andrew asks, “You wanna talk about it?”

“Eight ball, right side pocket.”

He gives me space. Puts a twenty on the table when I sink the game ball.

I sit on the barstool, sip on a fresh beer as he racks up the next game.

My brother, born fourteen minutes and some change before me, sits down next to me. Grabs his second beer. Tries to down it in one gulp. He drinks how I feel. One egg split in two.

“I'm leaving her,” I finally say.

He feels my bitterness without me even having to say much. Nods. Gives me a moment to let reality sink in.

“You sure that's what you want to do?”

I put my beer down. “At this point, there's no other choice. Something's not right, and no matter how hard I try, she's not talking.”

My twin chalks up his pool stick. When I look at him, swear I'm looking in the mirror. “Maybe you just need a little time apart. You know how women can get.”

“It's more than that, Drew. We've fallen apart.”

He brushes some of the blue dust off his khakis. “Melissa and I aren't doing too good either.”

“Figured as much. Is it the baby business?”

Andrew nods. Says, “I thought things would be a lot different, you know. Thought we'd have kids by now and be living life on a whole different level.”

“Tell me about it.”

I feel his eyes peering at me as I break the balls and get the next game underway. Tells me, “I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to—”

I put my pool stick in the air, shake my head. Continue sinking solids in pockets. His frustration over not being able to be a father causes him to forget I'm no longer a father. It's not the first time. And until he has a child, I'm sure it won't be the last.

“For real, Brandon. I'm sorry about that.”

“Your turn,” I say. Grab my beer, guzzle down the remnants.

It's not really his turn. I'm just tired of playing.

Another twenty lands on the table. He's tired of playing too. Either that or he's lost his energy. Talking about lack and loss will do that to you.

My brother sits down next to me. “It's still hard to talk about, huh?”

I lean my head back against the wall. “Feels like it was yesterday.”

Three years ago, my son passed away. He was only five. Wasn't sick. I could count the times he had been sick since birth on one hand. He went to sleep one night and never woke up. The doctors had no explanation. None at all.
“We're sorry,”
was all they had to offer.

Andrew flags down a waitress. Orders us a couple more beers.

“There are days I want to forget. Want to forget holding his stiff, cold body in my arms. Want to forget the pain in Rene's scream when she found him.” My throat becomes dry. Wonder what's taking our drinks so long to arrive.

She finally comes. Andrew pays her with the twenty from the
table. She hands him sixteen dollars back. He gives her two bucks for her service.

I take a couple sips back to back before I say, “Sometimes I want to forget the day he was even born. Then it wouldn't hurt so much to remember him dying.”

“Man, I can't imagine that feeling.”

In a way, I know he can. We're cut from the same egg. What I feel, he feels. And what he feels, I feel.

“Do you think that's what's going on with Rene? You think she's just missing him?”

My answer doesn't come right away, need a second to let the thoughts marinate. “I mean, it's possible. She was a little despondent when he first passed, but she pulled it together to…you know, get him ready for the funeral. It was almost a year after that she started acting like a mute.”

His mouth opens to respond just as his cell rings on his hip. “It's Mel.”

“Tell her I said hi.” I head to the bathroom to get a little relief. Beer runs though my kidneys like a leaky faucet at midnight.

When I get back, he tells me it's time to head on home. “Mel made dinner plans and I need to get the lessons done for the week.”

“All right, man. Let's do this again soon. I could always use some extra gas money.”

We end on a light note with a chuckle.

“You know I let you win.” He grabs me by the shoulder. “In all seriousness, think about it before you walk out on Rene. Talk to her and make her talk back. Hate to see it all end like this.”

“I'd hate for it to end like this too.”

I
n the glove box of my car is a gift certificate to a local gym I won in a drawing from the local radio station. I was going to give it to one of the other agents at the firm since I prefer working out outdoors, but right now, I need this for me. I grab it and walk into Pick Your Fit 24hr Fitness where I get to “pick my fit.” The owner gives me a tour of the facility. Since the certificate pays for a year membership, there's not much she needs to sell me on. I fill out the necessary paperwork, proceed to the restroom to change. Find my way to the mat for some stretches.

Besides the owner and two guys spotting each other on weights, I'm the only other person in here. I could get used to a place like this.

It's been a while since I've run. Try to run at least three days a week, but work, the kids, and acting like a happy wife have worn me out lately. Running helps me put things in perspective, and that's just what I need.

Not even a mile in, my legs let me know they're rusty. Press the up arrow, increase to a six-and-a-half pace. Breathing is harder, heart pumping something serious. Feel my sweat pores open and pour out rivers of salt water, forms a lake in the crevice of my bosom. The burn in my legs calms down just a tad. Takes a minute or two for my breathing to settle to an even pace. Running slower aches more, especially when I go weeks without running.

As the two weightlifters leave the gym, another guy walks in. He causes me to lose my step. I step on the sides of the treadmill, take a breather. Use my towel to dry off my face and neck, sip on a bottle of electrolytes.

My daughter's first grade teacher hops on the treadmill next to me. He doesn't say anything when he looks in my direction.

“You don't know who I am, do you?”

He shakes his head while fidgeting with the buttons on the treadmill.

“And I only thought it was after a man sleeps with you that he no longer recognizes you.” I chuckle.

He stares at me with one eyebrow raised. Not sure if he's trying to remember if I'm someone he actually did sleep with or if he thinks I'm totally off my rocker.