Say you promise a delica.., p.1
Say You Promise (A Delicate Vows Duet Book 1), page 1
Say You Promise
A Delicate Vows Duet
L.A. Ferro
Say You Promise: A Delicate Vows Duet by L.A. Ferro
Published by L.A. Ferro
Copyright © 2022 by L.A.Ferro
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: L.A.Ferro@hotmail.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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 by K.B. Barrett Designs.
Contents
1. Gianna One
2. August Two
3. Gianna Three
4. August Four
5. Gianna Five
6. August Six
7. Gianna Seven
8. August Eight
9. Gianna Nine
10. Mason Ten
11. August Eleven
12. Gianna Twelve
13. Mason Thirteen
14. Gianna Fourteen
15. August Fifteen
16. Gianna Sixteen
17. August Seventeen
18. Gianna Eighteen
19. Gianna Nineteen
20. August Twenty
21. Mason Twenty-One
About The Author
Gianna
One
I'll never forget the day we were kicked out of our house. In the mornings, I went to school before coming home to let the dog out and get ready for work. However, that morning something was off. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed a few cars parked on the opposite side of the street, each piled with people. Brushing it off, I went inside to let the dog out, but I didn’t miss the fact that the people in the cars watched me as I did. A feeling of unease started to settle over me, so I focused on what I needed to do before heading to Reds. My gas tank was empty, and there was a gas station about a block over from our street. Leaving the dog outside, I drove around the corner to fill up.
When I came back to the house to get ready for my shift, everyone who had been in those cars was now on my front porch, but now there was a cop with them.
“Hello Miss, my name is Officer James Harlow. Are your parents’ home?” I was in complete shock I’ve never spoken to a cop let alone one on my front porch surrounded by complete strangers.
“No, my parents are at work.” My voice was unsure considering I had no idea why this cop was on my porch. I tried hard not to let my nerves show as the crowd of people sneered at me.
“I’m going to need you to do two things, Miss. First, go ahead and give your parents a call letting them know that they are being evicted. Once they’ve been informed, you’re going to need to let us in the house so that we can start moving you out.”
My heart dropped into my stomach and my face heated with embarrassment over what was happening. Already some neighbors had started looking out their windows to see what the commotion was all about in front of my house. I could feel their prying eyes watching my every move, mocking me. I thought about refusing the officer for a split second before conceding to his demands. He was holding paperwork in his hand that was no doubt legal documentation confirming what he was telling me. Ultimately, I knew I was on the losing end of a battle that wasn’t mine to fight. This was my parents’ fuckup, not mine. I was just the lucky one who had to deal with the fallout.
Typically, people being evicted are not allowed on the premises, but I think the officer took pity on me, seeing as I was still a minor and clearly upset.
Unfortunately, I soon found out that he was the only one who had any sympathy for my misfortune.
He had me collect our dog, before allowing me to go in and fetch what he deemed "valuables" prior to letting the mob inside to empty our house. I quickly grabbed items that I considered family heirlooms that I didn't want to see broken. While the items may not have held any monetary value, they were sentimental. If there had been anything of real economic value in the house, it would have been pawned to stave off the eviction.
After I loaded what special items I could into my car, I watched what I considered ‘looters’ pilferage through my belongings and comment on my life. I couldn't help but feel like we had indeed hit rock bottom. My only solace came from the knowledge that at least my nine-year-old brother Elio was at school while all this was happening. The entire experience was jarring in more ways than one. I can’t imagine his adolescent brain trying to make sense of something so traumatic.
The people uprooting my life felt it was their job to inform me of every crack pipe they found, every marijuana pipe, bong, and roach clip, as if I wasn't already very much aware of my parent's drug use.
Each item they took out of my house solidified what I already felt. I was alone, trapped, and powerless, and they took joy in uprooting my life. I didn’t turn eighteen for another two weeks. It's not like I could just move out and start a new life once I did. What eighteen-year-old has the wherewithal to do so? Of course, I had plans to do just that as soon as I could, but by no means was I ready.
It was like those people didn't even see me. They didn't see my shame, insecurities, struggles with emotional support, or everyday fear about my physiological needs being met. There was no remorse or trepidation in the fact that they were putting a high school girl and a little boy on the street. We appeared to have our lives together on the outside, but we were utterly broken under the surface, and if those people noticed at all, they didn't care.
That day I was truly alone. Elio was at school, and for that I was truly grateful. At least he wouldn’t have any more reasons to be insecure about our parent’s ability to provide a stable home. Dad had just taken a job as a traveling carpenter, and my mother had just returned to work after using up all her FMLA on stress-induced mental instability issues. My mom couldn't have left work if she wanted.
That meant I was on my own to pick up what I could and haul it away. My grandmother had recently died, which was the only reason I even had a car. She left it to me in her will. I think she had the foresight to know that I was the responsible one in the family and would need it to better my life, whereas my parents probably would have sold it for drug money. It was a burgundy Plymouth Acclaim, so I was limited in what items I could get into it. There would be no way for me to haul any furniture.
My cousin lived reasonably close, so I took our dog and some of our things to his house to store in the basement until we could find somewhere to live.
I focused on the smalls and decided to call up my best guy friend, Bryce. He lived right down the street from me and hadn’t started college yet so I called him hoping that he would be available to help. That afternoon Bryce showed up with his truck and our friends. Aiden and TJ borrowed their parent's trucks and came to my rescue. It was the most heartwarming scene to see my friends pulling down my street in a line full of trucks to help my family pick their lives up out of the dirt, literally.
While I was extremely grateful for their help, I was awfully embarrassed. How could anyone not be? At the end of the day, I knew my parent's mistakes were theirs, but I had to deal with the fallout for every fuckup they ever made. As a child with no means to take care of yourself, you're just along for the ride.
Once all our belongings were stored away in my cousin’s basement all we had to do was find a place to stay. For the next two weeks, I stayed with my friend Ashton and her family while my parents and Elio stayed with a family friend. Ashton was dating TJ, and she was my best girlfriend outside of Vivian. I would have loved to stay with Vivi, but she didn't live in my school district. It didn't make sense to stay with her.
I had hoped my parents would find a more permanent solution to our homelessness situation, but that would just be wishful thinking.
We’ve been in beautiful St. Albans for a little over a week now. I'd like to say we ended up here because my parents searched for hours to improve our living situation by working around the clock to make sure our family was brought back together but nope, that was me.
We ended up in St. Albans because I searched high and low and wasn't going to settle for another sub-par house too close to the wrong side of town which also meant we would be too close to all the dealers. My parents hadn't even thought to look in St. Albans, deciding it was too expensive to live out that way, and we couldn't afford it.
Unfortunately, there was no way my parents would be able to buy anything for a while now that they had an eviction on their credit. One morning, while searching through the classifieds I came across a few homes listed in St. Albans for rent. I noticed a few of the homes were in our price range, and as I dug deeper, I realized that three of them were for rent by the same owner. Surely, she would want to get tenants in one of these homes quickly, which would hopefully mean taking a chance on my family. Given our terrible credit predicament, it would be a gamble for sure.
After meeting with us, Gerry, the landlord, fell in love with my younger brother and me. She thought our family was exactly the type of family that should be living in her home right next to the park. Apparently, we were worth the risk, and that was great news because it gave me one less thing to worry about for the immediate future.
The drive to our new house is lined with Dogwood tre
Prior to moving here, we lived in a tiny eight-hundred-square-foot house with no basement in Arrowhead. The house was technically only a two-bedroom house, but my parents used the back din as their bedroom while my younger brother and I had the actual bedrooms.
There is a nine-year age gap between us, so sharing a room wasn't an option. When we weren't fighting over the bathroom, seeing as there was only one, we were fighting to sit in front of the box fan in the living room. The air conditioner was always on the fritz, and we couldn't afford a new one. Let's not even start on the water bugs. They start to come out this time of year which makes me all too happy to no longer be in our old house.
Our new home situated on Parkside Acres is the perfect place to start our new beginning. It's a white house with blue shutters and a blue door located in the middle of a cul-de-sac, every house in our little circle is different, which I love. It shows how old the home is. Nowadays, everyone lives in cookie-cutter houses where everything is the same save for different color siding or elevation. I like a home that feels lived in and has character. It makes me feel connected to the people who came before me, which somehow brings me comfort like I'm not alone in this next chapter.
Most people take for granted the homes they live in, the space, the cleanliness, and the location but not me. I’ve lived in so many dumps that I appreciate every small detail. There is truly nothing overly special about this house apart from it being on the right side of town, in a nice neighborhood with working air conditioning and no bugs. But those things make me feel like we are moving up in the world.
This house feels like it could be a home, and I'm hopeful that they get to stay here for a long time. I'm trying to be optimistic that this move is exactly what they needed and at the right time to be the change my parents are ready for. But the one thing I’ve learned over the years is that I can’t rely on my parents to be what I need. That’s why as soon as I can save up enough money to get out I will. I don’t think my parents would ever give me custody of Elio, but I plan to stay close enough for him to be with me regardless. After all, they won’t miss him while they’re high.
Getting evicted might have been one of the best things to happen for our family.
After years of living paycheck to paycheck, borrowing beyond their needs to feed their addictions, and losing everything, they are now finally cleaning up their act. For once in my eighteen years, I think we might be getting the fresh start we all deserve.
So here I am, going through the few items I have left of the life I'm trying to leave behind. Turns out having your items pilfered and broken is a gift in disguise. You're forced to start new and let go of things that maybe didn't bring you joy. The walls in my new room are bare, and that makes me happy. They represent a clean slate. Everything I have from here on out will have purpose and meaning. Now I can focus on what's essential school and my new job. Everything will fall into place I can feel it in my bones, and Monday is just the beginning.
A few weeks ago, I graduated high school, and I’m starting my new full-time job at Reds on Monday. Luckily it won't be my actual first day, just my first day as a full-time employee. I have always been one to plan ahead, making it hard to stay in the moment and try to find happiness in the now. I'm constantly trying to mold my future. I don't want to struggle, I want to be financially secure, and I don't want to endure the burdens my parents have. That meant always working hard to achieve my goals.
In high school, I was an overachiever passing all my classes and getting ahead on my credits so that my senior year, I would only need to attend classes until 9 am. Of course, leaving school at 9 am meant I could work the afternoons, and that's precisely what I did. Every little bit of money I could save up mattered. It meant I was that much closer to attaining my goals. Living under my parent’s roof is toxic and it’s starting to take a toll on my physical health. While the beatings stopped around age fourteen the mental scars will never fade. The chronic stress that I live with is starting to make me sick. I know I don’t eat enough, and I can literally feel my body shutting down. But as hard as I try, I can’t bring myself to prioritize my needs when I’m trying to keep everyone else’s lives from self-destructing. I’ll only need my parents for so much longer before I can finally split.
My mom has worked at Reds for the past ten years. While she might be an addict, she managed to hold down a job, go figure. She's still a functioning alcoholic, and that may never change, but at least she and my dad have appeared to have kicked the blow habit. Now, if I could just convince them to drop weed, maybe we could genuinely be your average middle-class household living the American dream, complete with the white picket fence.
Reds is a manufacturing company that makes health and beauty products. I will be working in what they call the Sample Room. I like to think that's where all the magic happens. Working there in the afternoons and making the biggest checks I've ever seen in my life has been an authentic taste of freedom.
I can see the plans for my future falling into place, and this money will help me pay for a community college in the fall.
On Friday nights I would typically be hanging out with my friend Bryce and the guys, but not tonight. Tonight, I want to go through my clothes for next week and finish unpacking what little things I still have from the move. Sometimes I wish I could just be carefree and undisciplined so that I don't miss out on the now, but that's just not who I am.
Don't get me wrong, I would love to be the girl that flies by the seat of her pants and lets go of all her inhibitions without regard for tomorrow, but growing up my days were always a gamble. While other kids knew what their day would bring, mine was always a mystery. Will I come home to a house full of strangers on a binge, will my parents be home, will the electricity work, will there be food to eat, or my favorite, will I have to barricade myself in my room to avoid my mother’s rage?
For now, tomorrow looks promising. For the moment, we live in a lovely house and my parents are clean, but that doesn't mean I get to stop planning for the minute it all falls apart. That is why I'm at home, making sure I'm prepared to be on time, organized, and professional so that I can kick ass at training on Monday. This is my time to start my life and change it for the better.
August
Two
Here I am, getting ready to go out with the guys for drinks. Finals ended this week, and we are all officially college graduates. Most of them already have internships lined up. A few are going on to get their masters, and then there's Ethan and me. We are expected to take over our family businesses like the generations that have come before us, well me anyway. Ethan's family is new money, while my family has been in the manufacturing industry for ages.
Ethan is excited to take over for his father. His father runs a media conglomerate, and Ethan hopes to expand the business into the ever-growing plane of social media. Don't get me wrong, I've grown to appreciate Facebook. It's a significant upgrade from Myspace, but app developing and constantly racing to reach the most amount of people through media isn't for me. If I could do what I love, it would be Art related. My sister works as a curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. I'm beyond jealous. I feel like she gets to live my dream. While I'm glad to have a job lined up, I'm not at all excited about clocking in and out every day doing the grind at a manufacturing facility.
