Our Unscripted Story Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2018, L.A. Fiore

  All rights reserved

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  ISBN-13: 978-1984365187

  ISBN-10: 1984365185

  Cover Model: Miles Reza

  Cover photo by Scott Hoover

  Cover design by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author

  File creation, mobi and epub, by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author

  Typeset graphics, title page art and paperback and eBook formatting by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author, www.theillustratedauthor.net

  Editing by Editor in Heels, Trish Bacher

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  PLAYLIST

  DEDICATION

  PART ONE PROLOGUE

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  PART TWO 8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  PART THREE 21

  22

  23

  24

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  FOLLOW L.A. FIORE

  Playlist

  Just Like Heaven…The Cure

  One Last Cry…Brian McKnight

  Don’t Stop Believing…Journey

  Now That It’s Over…Everclear

  Tainted Love…Claire Guerreso

  Full of Grace---Sarah McLachlan

  Take on Me…a-ha

  Paperweight…Schuyler Fisk and Joshua Radin

  Against All Odds…Phil Collins

  Supermarket Flowers…Ed Sheeran

  The Boys of Summer…The Ataris

  Better Be Good to Me…Tina Turner

  Lovesong…The Cure

  Faithfully…Journey

  Separate Lives…Phil Collins

  Mama Told Me Not to Come…Three Dog Night

  Angels…Robbie Williams

  Waiting…Alice Boman

  Hold On…Chord Overstreet

  Dancing on My Own…Calum Scott

  Only…RY X

  When She Loved Me…Sarah McLachlan

  Why Can’t I Be You…The Cure

  What About Us…P!nk

  Perfect…Ed Sheeran

  Save Me, San Francisco…Train

  Separate Ways…Journey

  It’s All Coming Back To Me Now…Celine Dion

  For Nikki Levy

  Part One

  Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.

  – Paulo Coelho

  1982

  “Mama.”

  Sade smiled watching her daughter. She was only two, but sometimes she seemed older.

  “Mama, mama.” Alexis clapped, her little teeth appearing as she smiled.

  “We’re going to see Daddy.”

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Alexis’ cheeks turned red, her brown eyes brightened with excitement. She was a total Daddy’s girl. A lesser person might feel a pang of jealousy over the bond shared between her husband and daughter, but she loved it. Loved that their daughter brought her hard ass husband to his knees.

  She swooped her daughter into her arms, setting off the giggles, and grabbed her purse. Rowdy was at the door, like he’d been for the last four months. They weren’t allowed to go anywhere without an escort. She didn’t know the details; it was safer for her and Alexis to be in the dark. It wasn’t ideal, but she loved her husband, he was crazy about her, and they adored their daughter. They made it work.

  She locked up; Rowdy walked them to the car.

  “Let’s strap you in, sweetie.”

  Alexis threw her arms over her head; it was her way of helping.

  “You’re Mommy’s little helper.”

  Alexis gave her that toothy smile and her heart swelled. She could watch her daughter for hours, the wonder of her. How she worked things out, how she found interest in everything. She was a part of her, a part of her husband, the best parts.

  “Mommy loves you.”

  She puckered her lips. Sade laughed before leaning in and pressing a kiss on that pucker.

  Tires squealed around the corner. Sade’s head snapped in the direction of the car, even as she shielded her baby with her body. Rowdy had already pulled his gun. Several pops rented the air, Rowdy went down, several more and Sade felt the bullets tearing through her. Adrenaline kept her from feeling the pain, her only thought was protecting her daughter. The car disappeared, neighbors ran out of their houses. Sade frantically ran her hands over Alexis, praying no bullets went through her into her baby girl. She wept in relief to find her unharmed. It was then that the pain came, a blinding pain that brought her to her knees. Blood pooled in her mouth.

  “I love you, Alexis. Mommy loves you. Please remember that Mommy loves you.”

  The last sound she heard was her daughter screaming for her mama.

  His legs went weak when they pulled the sheet down. His beautiful, funny, full of life wife was on a metal slab in the morgue. He curled his hands into fists even as he dropped to his knees and buried his face in her hair. The subtle scent of her favorite shampoo still clung to those brown strands. He remembered the first day he saw her, the hit of attraction that damn near knocked him off balance. A junior in high school, loaded down with books, her hair blowing in the breeze and the way her eyes warmed when she sought him out feeling the connection that bound two strangers. He loved her from the first moment he saw her. He had vowed to love her for the rest of their lives, but her life was cut short because of him.

  He pressed a kiss on her mouth, her lips were cold and her taste was gone. His heart broke into pieces in his chest. As he said a final farewell to the love of his life, he knew what he had to do.

  “She won’t be anywhere near here, right?”

  “No. I’ve requested special circumstances. Adoption is the only way to ensure a truly stable home though.”

  Everything in him rejected that idea. He had to give her up, but he wasn’t going to cut that last tether he had to her. “No. I want her safe, but I won’t sign away my rights. She is loved, so fucking much. Just put her in a home that will keep her safe, one that is nowhere near here.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He held his daughter’s little hand, her chubby fingers gripping his so tightly. She looked around with wide-eyed interest. She insisted on wearing her hot pink jacket because they were going out. She didn’t understand she wouldn’t be going home with him, didn’t know her life was about to change. It’d been two months since Sade died, two months to get everything in order, two months to say goodbye to the last piece of his heart.

  Tears burned his eyes, but he wouldn’t let her see them. He knelt down next to her. He had a picture of the three of them; he zipped it into her jacket pocket. It was the only thing he would let her have, the only reminder of the life she had before the new one she was about to embark on.

  “You look just like your mama. She loved you so much and you’ll never know her. You’ll never know how she would braid you
r hair in all those little braids, or how she would rub your back when you weren’t feeling well. You won’t remember that her hair always smelled like lilacs and when she smiled she brightened up a room. She sang when she baked, and talked to the flowers in the garden as she tended them. She liked to walk in the rain and dance in the streets. She was in labor for forty-three hours, but it only took ten minutes to push you into the world.” He touched her round cheek, swiping his thumb over her soft skin. “When you were ready, there was no stopping you. You won’t remember that you were the center of both of our worlds, but you are. You are loved, baby girl. My wish for you is to sing when you bake, to talk to the flowers, to walk in the rain, dance in the streets, to love until it hurts, and most of all to live every day like it’s your last.”

  Alexis clapped, her smile lopsided when she grinned. “Daddy, Daddy.”

  He hugged her, inhaling her sweet baby scent and committed it to memory. He kissed her head, let his lips linger as he said goodbye and then he walked out of the office. The last sound he heard was his daughter screaming for her daddy.

  Alexis 4 years later

  The board game was heavy, but I got it into the room. Ms. Evelyn and Mr. Howard were watching television. They weren’t my parents. I had a picture of my mommy and daddy. I didn’t know what happened to them. No one would tell me. I think they were in heaven. I wished I could go there too so I could see them again. I dropped down on the floor in front of the television.

  “Wanna play?” They didn’t look at me. “Wanna play?”

  “Play in your room,” Mr. Howard grumbled. He reminded me of Oscar the Grouch. He wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like people, especially children. I didn’t want to be in my room. I wanted someone to play with.

  “You can go first?”

  “Not now,” the woman said.

  Not now, but later. That’s what I heard. I carried my game back upstairs and set it up in my room. While I waited, I played with my dollies then I colored. I waited for the lady to come play with me, but she never did. I sat on my bed and tried not to cry but I was so lonely. The woman had bought me a journal. We were learning how to write sentences in school. I sat at my desk, scrunched up my nose thinking. I didn’t have a playmate, but I could make one up. Emily. She was my age, but her hair was blonde. She had parents that tucked her in at night and kissed her head, who played with her and baked cookies and sang songs. Emily had the life I wished I had.

  6 months later

  I sat under the tree in the front yard with my journal. I liked writing because I had friends. Imaginary, but they were as real to me as the people I lived with.

  Shouting turned my attention across the street. The twins were out. That girl was with them. The three of them played a lot. I wanted to play with them, but I was afraid to walk over there only for them to tell me to go away.

  Loud voices came from the house. The foster monsters were fighting again. In my head, I imagined them looking like the creatures of The Muppets. I’d made them loveable in my imagination because in real life they weren’t at all. I hated when they fought, but if they weren’t watching TV they were yelling at each other. They weren’t happy people.

  “Hey, you.” I looked over to see one of the twins crossing the street. I actually shook with excitement when he stopped in front of me. “Wanna play?”

  My lower lip quivered hearing words I had wished so hard to hear.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  He held his hand out to me. “I’m Dylan.”

  “Alexis.”

  “The idiot over there is my brother Dominic and the girl is Debbie. Come on, we have a tree house.”

  I jumped up. I didn’t tell the foster monsters where I was going. They wouldn’t even know I was gone. Dominic and Debbie met us at the door.

  The twins looked so much alike I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell them apart. Debbie looked a lot like them, but her eyes were blue not green, eyes that were staring at me long enough to make me uncomfortable. When she did smile, I didn’t understand why her smile didn’t bring one out in me.

  The door opened on a woman. My tummy dropped. I took a step back, ready to go home.

  “Hello, sweetheart.”

  I didn’t know who she was talking to, maybe Debbie. I looked behind me but Debbie was next to Dominic. The woman looked sad when I turned back to her. “I’m Mrs. Cantenelli.”

  Nervousness had me twisting my fingers together. “Alexis.”

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” A loud crash came from my house, loud enough we all looked over. Mrs. Cantenelli added, “I’ll let your foster parents know.”

  Dinner at the house was usually in front of the TV, but with them fighting we probably wouldn’t have dinner.

  “Okay.”

  “We’re going to play in the tree house,” Dylan said and disappeared inside with the others.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. Mrs. Cantenelli smiled again, “Come in, sweetheart.”

  Their home was a happy one. Pictures of the twins were all over the walls and it smelled like cookies. Shoes were tossed near the door, their backpacks next to them. I was so busy looking around I didn’t see Mrs. Cantenelli until she touched my shoulder.

  “Come in, sweetie, make yourself at home. I have cookies. Would you like some?”

  She was an angel. I looked really hard to see her wings, but she had them hidden.

  “You are welcome here anytime. Whenever you want, just walk right in.”

  I didn’t understand why she was being so nice to me, but it made my tummy hurt in a good way.

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s get those cookies. You can take some out for the others.”

  For the first time in a really long time, I was happy.

  6 years later

  I ran inside after spending the day at the beach. Home was Mendocino in Northern California. I had never been to New England, but I was told our town was very reminiscent of New England’s fishing towns. The quaint village was tucked up against the Pacific Ocean with dozens of little paths and lanes that stretched to the beaches and cliffs. I spent most days at the beach, observing and writing. Today I’d written a short story about a family of tourists. They were having so much fun chasing the waves, building sand castles, and picnicking on hot dogs. They probably got more sand in each bite than hot dog, but they didn’t care. Even at twelve, I recognized the emotion. I was jealous.

  I was feeling good; it had been a good day so when I entered the house and saw my foster parents watching television, I tried to spark conversation.

  “Hi.”

  Evelyn looked over at me. That was the extent of her greeting, but it was better than Howard’s. He didn’t even bother looking. This was why I rarely acknowledged them.

  Still riding the high I asked, “I wrote a short story. Would you like to read it?”

  “Not now. The game is on,” Howard barked, but his eyes never left the set.

  Evelyn didn’t respond.

  Typical. When I was younger, I handled gaining their attention—I wasn’t even looking for affection—like a tactical military operation. I had done all kinds of crazy things to get them to notice me; wearing my shoes on the wrong feet for a whole week, speaking in gibberish, standing like a statue in the living room while they watched television. Hanging upside down in the tree out front when they came home from work, talking openly with the neighbor’s dog. None of it worked. I was invisible. Their indifference hurt a lot and I couldn’t help wonder if there was something wrong with me because my birth parents gave me up and my foster parents wanted to.

  I headed to my room. I wasn’t going to cry. They were consistent, I had to give them that. I dropped my backpack on my bed and put my journal back in the bookcase then ran my fingers over the twenty other journals that shared the space. I didn’t need them for company. I created my own company.

  My eyes drifted to my nightstand. I didn’t pull it out now, I wasn’t sure I’d be abl
e to keep my emotions in if I did. This wasn’t supposed to be my life. I had parents who loved me. I had proof. How I ended up here, I didn’t know despite the countless times I had asked. Crying wouldn’t bring them back. For whatever reason, this was my life now.

  The foster monsters were still glued to the television when I came back down. They didn’t ask where I was going. They already knew, the Cantenellis. I spent more time with them than I did at home. Dylan answered the door. I heard his mom call, “Is that Alexis? She’s just in time. We’re having dinner in a few minutes.”

  Dylan grinned at me. “You can set the table.”

  I followed him into the house and closed the door behind me. I’d set the table…happily.

  The diner made the best hot fudge sundaes. I was on my way to get one. I didn’t see Debbie until it was too late. She didn’t hang out with us anymore. I suspected the reason for that was she had started to mature and boys were noticing; the twins and I stopped being cool. What I didn’t get was her open hostility, but she was nasty every time I saw her. Today was no exception.

  “If it isn’t Alexis. All alone today?”

  I ignored her; she wasn’t done. “No twins? Did they get tired of you too? No one seems to linger long, do they?”

  My hands curled into fists even as the tears threatened.

  “Are you going to cry?”

  The diner door opened and the one girl who worked there walked out. She was older than me by several years, but she and I talked when I came in for ice cream, nothing more than hi, how are you, nice weather. She was pretty and nice. The nice stuck because she always had a smile and a kind word, unlike Debbie.

  “I’m buying ice cream. You interested?” she called over. I thought she was talking to someone behind me and actually looked to see who it might be, but no, she was talking to me.

  “Ah, yeah okay.”

  “How cute. Charity,” Debbie purred.

  “You’re one to talk about charity. I’m pretty sure those jeans you’re wearing were once mine,” the girl shouted back.