Shattered Peace

Travis

"I am going out!" Tara's sharp voice echoes through the narrow hallway, slicing through the quiet of the evening.

"Where are you going now?" I ask, stepping out of the living room and keeping my voice low, mindful of the sleeping kids upstairs.

"None of your business. Do not wait up!"

She turns on her heel, and the front door slams shut. The heavy wood strikes the frame with such force that the nearby windows rattle in their casings. I stand there for a moment, staring at the blank wood of the door. She just hurried off, dressed up in tight clothes and heavy makeup to go party, leaving me sitting in the house to watch over our two young children.

I let out a heavy breath and run my hands over my face. I have never been the type of husband who demands his wife stay locked up at home. Everyone needs a night off to blow off steam, and I have always encouraged her to go out and have fun. I never even made a fuss on the nights she stayed out so late she ended up crashing at a friend's house. But lately, going out to party seems to be her only interest in life. I cannot even recall the last time we actually went on a date night. I cannot remember the last time we just cuddled up on the couch to watch a film after putting the kids to bed. There is a massive, silent gap between us now, growing wider with every passing day.

"Three... two... one." Rhett sings out the countdown from his spot on the couch.

Right on his cue, a sharp wail pierces the air from upstairs. Chloe is awake. Tara slamming the door on her way out shakes the house every single time, and she never gives a damn that it wakes our one-year-old daughter.

I let out a long sigh and run my fingers through my hair. The exhaustion settles deep into my muscles.

"I have got her." Rhett pushes up from the cushions and heads straight for the stairs.

I watch my brother jog up the steps, grateful for the help. Within minutes, Chloe's cries soften into small sniffles and then fade into quiet. I turn away from the staircase and make my way into the kitchen to grab a beer. I flick on the overhead light and bite back a groan. The counters are a disaster zone of half-eaten food, spilled apple juice, crusty macaroni bowls, and sticky plates. For once, Tara actually made the kids dinner before she left, but she left the entire mess behind for me to clean up.

I grab a dishcloth, run it under the hot water, and start wiping down the sticky counter. A few minutes later, Rhett tiptoes back down the stairs and walks into the kitchen.

"I changed her diaper and she went right back to sleep. I poked my head in on Toby too. He is snoring away, catching flies as usual." Rhett leans his hip against the kitchen island.

A dry laugh escapes my throat as I picture my three-year-old son fast asleep with his mouth hanging wide open. The brief image warms my chest, but the heavy reality of my situation quickly crashes back down onto my shoulders. I toss the dirty dishcloth into the sink, open the refrigerator, and pull out two cold beers. I slide one across the granite counter to my brother and crack mine open.

"Talk to me, brother." Rhett twists the cap off his bottle and fixes me with a hard stare.

I look up, meeting his eyes. His face is lined with pure concern. I have four brothers and one sister. We are a tight-knit family, but I have always shared a deeper bond with Rhett and our younger brother, Ben.

Thinking of Ben always brings a familiar ache to my chest. He spent eight years serving in the army. After he discharged, he packed up his life and moved down to Florida to live with his best friends, Garrett and Sadie. We talk on the phone all the time, but I still miss seeing his face around town.

It was not a shock when Ben told us he was making the move. Ben and Garrett have been joined at the hip since kindergarten. When Garrett met Sadie in high school, the three of them became an inseparable package deal. I know Garrett well enough, though I never actually crossed paths with Sadie. Back when she started hanging around the boys, I was too busy trying to be a rebellious teenager, spending as much time away from the house as possible. It was a stupid phase in my life, but I sure had my fun.

My mind wanders further back, thinking about how our family ended up settling down here in Texas. Six years ago, my grandmother Maybelle passed away. She fought a long, brave battle with cancer, and when she finally went, she left her farm to my dad. He was her only child, so we all knew the property would eventually fall to him. My parents spent the last six months of her life down here, caring for her around the clock. The whole family was crushed when she took her last breath.

Growing up, we used to visit her twice a year. Grandma Maybelle was the greatest woman I ever knew. She lost her husband—our grandad—in a tragic boating accident while he was out fishing. My dad was just a teenager when it happened. We never got the chance to meet him, but she loved that man more than life itself. She never moved on, never looked at another guy, keeping his memory alive in everything she did. I like to think they are finally reunited somewhere out there.

After my dad inherited the property, he and my mom decided to pack up their lives and make a fresh start on the farm. They extended the invitation to all of us. Even though my brothers and I were grown adults with our own lives, we all chose to follow them down here.

Well, everyone except our sister, Leah. She is out in California finishing up her university degree. She talks about moving out here once she graduates, and I know she will love it. The rest of us certainly do. Despite the miserable state of my own household right now, I do not regret making the move to Texas. If I had stayed behind, I would never have had Toby or Chloe. The thought of existing without my kids is a nightmare I refuse to entertain.

"Travis... Trav!"

I blink, snapping out of my thoughts. Rhett is waving a hand in front of my face.

"Where did you go just then?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about Ben and Grandma Maybelle. What did you say?" I take a long pull from my beer, only to realize the bottle is already empty. I set it down on the counter, pull two more from the fridge, and hand one to Rhett before returning to the sink to scrub a crusty pan Tara left behind.

"I said talk to me, brother. What is going on? And I want the truth this time." Rhett steps closer. He places a heavy hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze.

"What do you mean?" I keep my eyes focused on the soapy water, feigning ignorance.

I know he will not buy it. Rhett is sharp. He spends a lot of time over here, and he sees the cracks in the foundation, even if he tries to be discreet about it in front of the kids.

"Do not do that, not with me. You know exactly what I am talking about, Trav. You guys are not how you used to be. You argue more than ever. She is gone more than ever. And lately, all I ever see you do is cook, clean, care for the kids, and work yourself to the bone. It is as if you have become a single dad, Trav. We both know it is the truth, so do not try and palm me off. I am here for you, and I am here for my niece and nephew. You know I want to help, but I cannot do a damn thing if you refuse to talk to me."

I stop scrubbing the pan. The kitchen falls silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator. I stare down at my half-empty bottle of beer, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

The brutal truth is that I have been hiding from reality for months. I know I need to confront the situation, but blowing this up means a messy fallout. It means I might get pushed out of this house. It means I might spend far less time with my one-year-old daughter and three-year-old son than I can stomach. I refuse to be a weekend father. I refuse to let my children grow up in a broken home if I can just find a way to fix it, but I am running out of pieces to tape back together.

Rhett lets out a low, frustrated grunt. "There is something you are not telling me."

I give him a tight, defeated nod. The words burn on the tip of my tongue, heavy and toxic. How the hell am I supposed to look my brother in the eye and tell him that my wife has already cheated on me twice? Those are just the times I know about for a fact. How do I admit out loud that I strongly suspect she is out doing the exact same thing tonight?

The secret weighs on me, suffocating me in my own home. I feel like I am living in a personalized version of hell. But staring at Rhett's unwavering expression, a shift happens in my chest. Maybe he is right. I have carried this toxic burden alone for far too long, letting it slowly poison my sanity. Maybe it really is time to open up to my brother and let the truth see the light of day.

Maybe it is finally time to face reality and figure out the rest of my life. Hell, maybe it is time I actually started living my life again, instead of just surviving in the wreckage of this broken marriage.