Before I Break (If I Break 1.5)

by Moore, Portia

  Before

  I

  Break

  Portia Moore

  Copyright © 2014 by Porsche Moore

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the author

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Lou Harper

  Chapter 1

  Chris

  March 7th 2013

  Silence, dead silence. There’s nothing I hate more in the world. It’s the sound that fills the room when you know the people you’re talking to are searching for something to say. Not just something, the right thing to say. They know if they speak too quickly or the wrong words are spoken, everything will shift. The wrong response could tilt the world—your world—off its axis. I get why my parents are so careful with their words. Words changed our lives, and not for the better. It all started when I told them, “I don’t remember where I was last week.” The last time was when they told me, “Your mother is sick.”

  In each instance, dead silence followed. Time stopped, and everyone tried to think of what was the right thing to say next. Now I’ve made an announcement that will change our lives forever, for what I hope is the better. That same silence follows, and they stare at me blankly. They're shocked. I expected that. My dad finally cracks a smile, but my mom is still stoic. Her expression is unreadable, and that worries me.

  “Wow. Engaged?” My dad’s the first to break the silence in the room. His eyes are wide, the excitement in his voice apparent.

  “What do you think Mom?” I ask, rubbing the back of my head. I thought she’d be happy. She and Jenna get along great.

  “I—I don't really know what to say, Chris.” She won’t even look at me as she lets out a long sigh. She gets up from the dining room table and disappears into the kitchen.

  What type of congratulations is that? No smile, no tears of joy, not a single question? In the back of my mind, I knew there was a chance it could be like this, which is why I didn’t bring Jenna. I just told her I’m getting married. That I’ve chosen a woman to spend the rest of my life with, who is going to be the daughter she always wanted, and she walks out as if I just told her to grab me a sandwich. My dad looks behind him and sighs before his smile returns.

  “Did you get a good deal on the ring?” he asks, trying to convey enough excitement for the both of them. My dad has always been a deal maker. I would have taken him with me to buy it if I thought he’d be this happy.

  “I think so.” I chuckle.

  “I took Lisa with me to pick it out.” I smile. I’m sort of proud about it. It’s one of the first big decisions I’ve made in my life without their input or influence. Lisa’s been my best friend since kindergarten, and she knows jewelry like nobody’s business. She knows her stuff but wouldn’t force a decision on me. Even though she and Jenna aren’t the best of friends, Jenna loved the ring Lisa picked out. My dad makes his way over to me and pulls me into a bear hug.

  “Well congratulations, son.” He gives me another pat on the shoulder. It’s like I’m in bizarro world. My dad’s excited and accepting, but my mom looks as if I told her I’ve dropped out of college.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I reply, still a little in shock. My mom is in the kitchen banging pots around.

  “She’ll come around.” He notices my meandering glance towards the kitchen.

  “I don't get it. She likes Jenna, right?" I scratch my head. Now I’m confused. I mean, I thought she liked her, but this reaction is causing me to think she’s a good actress.

  “Of course son, it’s not that she doesn’t like Jenna. I don't think it has anything to do with her, really." He motions his head toward the living room. I follow him there. We sit down across from each other on separate sofas.

  “So what is it? To be honest, I expected you to be the upset one,” I admit with a dry chuckle. My mom runs away from the problem. If it was him he’d confront it right then and there head on. They really balance each other out.

  “I’m happy for you, son. You deserve this. You deserve to be in control of the important decisions in your life,” he says a wide smile on his face. He almost seems more excited than I am.

  “She doesn’t think I’m ready, does she?” That has to be it.

  “I haven’t had a blackout in two years. I’ve been doing really well,” I say defensively, but the truth is I have to tell myself every morning that I’m ready.

  “I know! This is exactly the thing you need to put the past behind you. To move into the future,”he says encouragingly. “Your future,” he adds with a smile. I don’t know who else’s future it would be, but I’ll take it as long as one parent’s on my side.

  “Jenna and her parents are still coming over for dinner tonight. I’ve got to talk to Mom. Jenna is going to be really hurt if she thinks mom is against this.” I let out a deep breath and stand up.

  “I’m going to grab some champagne for tonight.” My dad grabs his jacket off the coat stand.

  “I’m proud of you, son.” And at that, he slips out the door. I shake my head in disbelief and head to the kitchen. My dad, is actually happy about this? Never would have thought it. Once I’m in the kitchen, I see my mom pulling a bowl of potatoes from the sink and setting them on the counter.

  “Need some help?” I ask, turning on the faucet and washing my hands. She smiles at me.

  “It’s been a while since you helped me in the kitchen,” she says with a laugh and hands me a knife. “I remember when you were a little boy. After you’d finish working on the old engine your dad let you tinker with, you’d come in here, dirt and oil all over you, and ask to help cook,” she jokes,starting to peel a new batch of potatoes. I laugh at the memory. I love both my parents.There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of them. When I found out she had cancer, it was like the wind was knocked out of me. A bad joke.

  Before that, my blackouts had been worse than ever. Most of the time, they’d last weeks instead of days, sometimes months. I was losing my mind; the sessions weren't helping. The medication only made me depressed. Then with all of that, my mom gets diagnosed with stage-three cancer. I thought that was the worst thing that could happen to us, but somehow it was a blessing in disguise. After that my blackouts and headaches were practically nonexistent. I met Jenna who helped me stay sane during a time I thought I would lose my mom, and less than eight months later, my mom was cancer free.

  “Mom,” I say quietly.

  “Honey, I am happy for you. I am,” she says, her voice perky, but the expression on her face seems forced. I touch her shoulders and turn her towards me. She lets out a small breath and holds both my arms.

  “Tell me the truth?” She’s been so strong through everything. There were days when I asked how she was doing, and I knew they were hell for her, but she kept up her smile and never complained. She never let us know how much pain she was in. Her eyes meet mine briefly before they find the floor.

  “Please,” I ask again, giving her my best puppy dog eyes and she hugs me.

  “I want you to be happy, Christopher. I want nothing more in this world than for you to be happy,” she says and her voice breaks. I feel tears wet my shirt, and she walks a few steps away from me.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me now.” I chuckle, but my heart is speeding up... I thought she’d cry because she was happy, not t
his. My stomach drops when I realize what could be causing this. I put my arm around her and lead her to the kitchen table and sit beside her. She takes a Kleenex and dabs her eyes.

  “You’re not. You’re not sick again are you, Mom?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Oh no, honey! I’m so sorry to make you even think that.” She shakes her head vehemently. I let out a big sigh of relief as she squeezes my hand.

  “I just…things have been going so well, and I know you care a lot about Jenna,” she says, a small smile appearing, but her eyes avoid mine.

  “Are you ready? Really ready?” she asks, her eyes finding mine again. Her gaze is so intense I feel like she’s trying to see inside of me.

  “I asked myself this over a thousand times already, Mom,”I reveal with a laugh. “Everything you’re thinking about, I’ve probably thought it five times over. The thing is, I don’t think there is ever going to be a time where I know that I’m cured from this—if I’ll ever be,” I say honestly. Her lips tighten, and she nods her head.

  “If not now...when? I’m tired of being afraid to live my life because of what may happen,” I tell her.

  “I never know when these blackouts will stop. But for now things have been good. Almost two years in a few months since I had the last one. It was hell, but I’ve finally finished school. I have an amazing woman who knows about my condition and doesn't think I'm a weirdo or some sad puppy that needs to be taken care of. And you’re doing better.” I finally see a genuine smile start to appear on her face even though her eyes are still watery.

  “I want to get married, maybe get you some grandkids.” I give her a playful nudge. I thought that’d make her laugh, only it doesn’t. Instead she looks anguished, maybe even a little guilty, but that can’t be right. She won’t even look at me as she gets up from the table and starts to pace the floor.

  “Mom, what is it?” I stand up and walk towards her. Something’s wrong. She finally stops and looks at me.

  “There’s something we haven—”she stops mid-sentence as my dad comes through the door with a bottle of champagne in hand. His smile is wide as he eyes the chilled bottle. When his gaze finds us his expression turns grim.

  “What’s going on?” I look at my mom and then at him.

  “You haven’t what, Mom?” I ask her again, glancing at my dad.

  “What haven’t we done?” he asks, his tone is low. My mom glares at him, and that awkward silence has returned, the tension so thick I could almost choke on it.

  “What?” I ask more firmly, causing their stare-down to end, and they both turn to look at me. My mom’s eyes dart away from me but my dad’s eyes stare straight into mine.

  “Dexter Sr. is here in Madison,” he says abruptly. The grandfather from hell. Whenever he comes here it’s usually bad news for the town. He’s either shutting something down or opening something that will destroy someone’s business. Most of the people here tend to forget our family’s association with the Crestfields, but their presence always serves as a reminder. My mom never liked him but for her to be this upset...

  “Is that it, Mom? Is that what’s been bothering you?” I ask, a little relieved. My gut says it’s something else, especially when I notice her lips tighten.

  “Gwen, today everyone else’s problems aren’t our concern. This day is about Chris. We’re celebrating the step he’s made to marry the woman he loves. Let’s not ruin this day for our son,” my dad says firmly. There’s something off about this.

  “Mom, what is this really about?” I don’t believe Dexter’s visit is causing this type of tension. She looks from me to my Dad, then clears her throat.

  “I heard through the grapevine that your grandfather is eying the property Kreuk Place is on,” she says with a sigh. I immediately frown. Kreuk Place is the community center my mom and I have been working at for the past year. It not only helps people in our town but neighboring towns too. It has a free clinic, gym, and daycare center. Only a monster would even think of displacing it. It’s a landmark. I want to say, “He can’t do that!” But the Crestfields can do almost anything.

  “No. That's bull!”

  “It’s just a rumor, but we all know how those start,” my dad says, a frown on his face.

  “I heard from Ms. Jaber’s daughter, that Dexter Jr.’s in town. She was just hired as one of the groundskeepers. He’s leaving this evening, supposedly,” she mumbles. The community center helped my mom and me through some of the toughest times in our lives. It’s a cornerstone of the community.

  I look at my watch. I have a couple of hours before Jenna and her parents get here for dinner.

  “I’m going to talk to him before he leaves,” I say, grabbing my keys off the counter. “I’ll be back in enough time to change before Jenna and her parents get here.” I say over my shoulder and rush out of the front door. I climb into my truck and head towards the one person who can stop this before it gets going.

  Dexter Jr.

  ***

  Crestfield. The name alone evokes envy, fear or anger depending on who you’re talking to in Madison. They own almost half the town and have the biggest everything in the entire county. It wouldn’t be a problem if they were permanent residents, but they’re not. It’s mere extravagance—all for show, adding to their theatrics when they come in town to raise hell.

  I’ve heard the phrase, “It’s nothing personal. Business is business.” But

  destroying families and ruining lives isn’t business as usual.’ Messing with people’s livelihoods makes it personal.

  Once I arrive at the Crestfield estate, I have to wait at the gate to be cleared by security. When I’m in, I can’t help but feel repulsed by the decadence of it all. The house and grounds are huge. The house alone is four times bigger than the community center. I’ll never understand how people can be so selfish and greedy.

  I get out of my car and head towards the house my when phone starts to ring. I smile, seeing it’s Jenna. I slide my finger across the faceplate to answer the call.

  “Hey future hubby.” She giggles.

  “Future wife.” I chuckle, playing along.

  “So...how’d your parents take the news?’ she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

  “Great. They’re really excited,” I say. It’s half true.

  “Really? Even your dad?” she asks in disbelief.

  “He took it even better than my mom did,” I tell her, making my way up to the large French doors. I roll my eyes at the discreet camera above the door before ringing the bell.

  “Better than your mom? What was wrong with your mom?” she asks, her pitch elevating slightly. I immediately regret my choice of words. Jenna picks up on almost everything. She’s like a bloodhound when someone’s hiding something. She’s good at reading people.

  “My mom thinks it’s great,” I say, hoping to throw her off.

  “You said better than your mom did. Meaning, your mom must have not taken it well,” she rattles off.

  “I thought your mom loved me? She’s against this?” She’s gone from five to ten on her panic scale.

  “No, it wasn’t like that. She was just surprised that’s all.” I sigh. I had to say “better.” That one little word triggered all this. The large doors have opened, and the Crestfields’ maid smiles warmly at me as she gestures for me to come in. I smile back to acknowledge her and walk in.

  “My parents and I are coming over for dinner tonight and your mom is totally against us getting married. This is terrible!” she says, her panic-o-meter rising with every syllable.

  “Jenna. My mom loves you. She loves your parents, dinner is going to be fantastic I promise, but I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back in a few. Love you,” I say as I hang up the phone, despite her protests.

  “Mr. Christopher Scott?” the maid asks, a little hesitant. I’ve known her for years, but she always asks as if she’s unsure of who I am.

  “How are you, Ms. Alma?” I smile as she leads me up the large win
ding stair case.

  “Wonderful. Would you like something to drink?” she asks right before we reach the door to Dex’s office.

  “No, I’m fine,” I reply.

  “Mr. Scott. Christopher,” she announces as we enter Dexter’s office, even though he can see me.

  “I always feel like I should bow or something,” I say sardonically. I notice Ms. Alma cover her laugh by clearing her throat.

  “A nod and a little courtesy would work just as well,” he respondsdryly,barely glancing up from his computer screen.

  “Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Crestfield?” she asks.

  “That will be all. Thank you,” he says.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Scott,” she says before leaving the room.

  “You too,” I say, walking over to Dex’s desk.

  “So what brings you here today, nephew? Long time, no hear from,” he says. I hear the amusement in his voice as he leans back in his large leather chair. I don’t understand why he always has remind of me of our relation, but I guess if it didn’t matter I wouldn’t be here.

  “Kreuk place. Just leave it alone. You guys own half the United States. Do you really need it?” I say, exasperated.

  He chuckles. “Why don’t you have a seat, Christopher,” he says, gesturing towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “I’m okay standing,” I tell him. I’m not going to sit and shoot the breeze with him. I just want him to leave Kreuk place alone.

  He frowns. “I’m sure Gwen has taught you better manners than that. When a host offers you a seat, you take it. Especially when you’re asking a favor of said host. You smile and grant the request,” he says smugly. I take a deep breath and sit down.

  “So, how have you been?” he asks as if we’re best friends. We’re cordial, distant relatives at best. It didn’t always used to be this way. Ten years ago after my grandmother died, Dex was sent to boarding school and the traits that were reminiscent of the better half of his parents seemed to be left behind.

  “Fantastic,” I say shortly.