Maybe This Life (12 page)

The rippling road ahead of her was near impossible to see through the rapid releasing of her tears.  There was no holding them back once she turned out of Rick's drive.  Lena felt ready to believe Rick.  Ready to welcome the idea that reincarnation was possible, and a past life in love with Rick could have actually existed.

But the moment the contents of her stomach splashed into the toilet water, so did the future she thought she might have had with Rick.  Right then and there, in Rick's bathroom, she knew.  The intense upset in the pit of her stomach and the crushing pain in her heart told her so.

Lena was pregnant.

With Vince's baby.

That horrid night, when Vince forced himself on her, now came back to her as a violent replay in her mind.  The highway disappearing in front of her, she tried to dry her eyes with her sleeve, afraid her blinding tears would cause a car crash.

Reaching Haledon was no easy feat, considering.  But Lena stopped off at the Rite-Aid, before going home.  She needed to see the proof for herself.

And she did.  Lena sat on the cold green tile of her bathroom floor, unable to move.  She cried until there were no more tears left to cry.  Hours went by before she got up off the floor.  When she finally reached her room, her bed was of no comfort, either.  She lain awake, questions bombarding her mind.  Lena was scared.  How would she tell her parents?  What did this mean for her and Vince?  Was she obligated to tell him?  Was she obligated to marry him now?  Would her parents make her marry him?  Would
his
parents make her?  What would Rick think? And could she ever let herself love Rick now?

So many questions, not enough answers. What would she do?  What
could
she do?  Lena would have to tell her parents.  But, Vince.  Did he even earn the right to know?  This baby wasn't conceived from his love for her.  No, deliberate force was the catalyst to this conception.  Vince would not see it that way.  Since her parents knew nothing of his rape of her, they would not see it that way either.  Unless she admitted it, finally.

At some point, Lena must have fallen asleep, because suddenly, she found herself in another time.

"Mom," twenty-five year-old Emmie began. "Why have you been so down lately?  Can I help?"

"Oh Emmie, you do help, always.  I've just been thinking about our life.  Since your brothers and sisters have moved out of the house, I was wondering if we should take a trip somewhere."

"How can we though?  I'm in a wheelchair, you do not drive and we have no money."

"Emmie, it's okay.  I have enough saved up for a bus trip.  I've always wanted to see the ocean.  Are you up for it?"

"I am, Mom.  That sounds wonderful."

Angelina had longed to see the ocean water since she was thirteen years old.  A bittersweet moment that provided her joy, as well as pain.  She grabbed her locket and held it close to her lips.  Richard had promised to take her here.  But he left, for the war, and never came back, leaving her to endure the wrath of her mother, before running away from home and into the arms of a man nearly as evil.

Her life, she could not help but think, would have turned out differently, had Richard not gone off to war.  She would have married him and raised her children in a peaceful home. She would have never had the same seven children, but she would not have had to live with the guilt of sending her husband's love child off to an orphanage because his lover was too young to care for her own child.  Angelina could have risen above the abuse from her mother and recovered from witnessing the brutal murder that took place when she was thirteen. If she had had the comfort and safety of a loving marriage, Angelina may have been able to salvage some of her self-esteem.

Angelina stood overlooking the big blue mass of thundering water, contemplating her life's sorrow.  However, her husband was gone now and her children had families of their own.  Now it was Angelina's turn.  And Emmie's turn, too.  To move in a more positive direction.  Angie did not have much of a savings account, but she would use what she had, for annual visits to her now favorite place in the whole wide world.  Seaside Heights, New Jersey.

Lena awoke, almost comforted by her latest dream, a dream she already remembered having, but in not so much detail. Mimi had told stories of Aunt Emmie and how she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis when Emmie was only thirteen years old.  Lena was told, that to Nana, Emmie was everything, and the two of them were inseparable.  Nana had realized that, though all of her other children were independent, Emmie would never be able to manage on her own.  Blind and wheelchair-bound, Emmie had only lacked physically. Her mind was sharp and heart, kind.  Nana made it her life's work to care for Emmie.  Lena had learned, through stories, about the summer bungalow that her great-great-grandmother rented each year in her later years.  The fond memories of Summers spent in Seaside Heights were shared over and over, even by her own mother.

What suddenly occurred to Lena was, though she could have dreamt Nana's stories, based on her knowledge of them, why could she
feel
Nana's thoughts and feelings of Richard?  And, why, every time she thought of Richard, Lena thought of Rick?

A pang in her heart alerted Lena to her current situation.  Living in a dreamland was not going to help her make immediate, life-altering decisions.  She needed to buck-up and face this dreaded reality head on. Lena needed to think.  Since her dream about the Jersey shore was still fresh in her mind, Lena decided to take a drive down to Seaside Heights for the day.  A long drive down the Garden State Parkway, while listening to
Daughtry
, would help her organize her thoughts.  Music did that for her.  It possessed the ability to weave itself deep inside the crevices of her mind, helping to connect it with her soul.  Once housed firmly within her, a song could provide a clearer vision and a confirmed solution.  Music was her bloodline, and today she would allow it to feed her veins.

Reaching the Seaside boardwalk in about an hour and a half, Lena had felt lighter – the songs, from her Daughtry CD, resonating throughout her body, mind and soul.  Since it was now nearing summertime, there were plenty of stands open.  Lena took advantage of her pregnancy hunger and divulged in the zeppole, pizza, waffles and ice cream and fudge.  Oh, the fudge.  Lena loved boardwalk fudge, especially from Laura's Fudge Stand.  Laura's Fudge was situated near the beloved carousel that held so many memories for Lena.  She could not really discern why the carousel had meant so much, but it did.  She bought her fudge and sat on the red painted bench that looked on at the old antique merry-go-round.

As Lena allowed the soft rich chocolate fudge to saturate her taste buds, it released, in her mind, a mystical image.  A vision, so supernatural, she could not believe her own eyes.  Riding the carousel was her great-great-grandmother Angelina as a young girl.  And with the young Angelina, was another girl. A familiar child with straight brown hair, brown eyes, and an unmistakably recognizable smile.  Lena's smile.  The other rider on the carousel was Lena as a twelve-year old.  An uninhibited and innocent young Lena looked to have not a care on her tiny shoulders compared to the slack-shouldered and burdened young Angelina.  Although in Angelina's eyes, Lena witnessed a flash of a glimmer.  A quick glint in her eye that lasted only a second but sent a message, so clear, to the present Lena, that she could not help but understand.

Lena needed to take control of her life.  She needn't let one situation define or inhibit her. What she took from this surreal experience was the message from her younger self to be the happy person she once was.  And the younger version of her Nana sent the message of hope. If Lena could not let her burdens destroy her, she would find hope for a better future.  Could that be why Lena kept dreaming about her Nana?  Was Nana trying to send a message to Lena?  Or...was there another reason for her visions of Angelina?  An unexplainable explanation.

Lena's attempt to confide in her parents about her pregnancy was not going to be a smooth endeavor. Pulling up to her parents' house after her drive home from the shore, Lena's whole body tensed while her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Parked in front of the antique hitching post in front of the Giordano's house was a large black Mercedes S600.  Vince Battaglia's parents' car.  A bad sign, indeed.

Approaching the porch steps slowly, Lena did a quick sign of the cross praying God would give her the courage to see her through the evening.  The door creaked as she edged it open, causing a slight jump in her already over-exerted heartbeat.  Lena closed her eyes in an effort to gather more fortitude. Seated at the large dining room table at the far end of the parlor were Mr. and Mrs. Battaglia, Lena's parents, and Vince, whose scornful expression triggered another bout of nausea for Lena.  Before hurling all over her mother's designer carpet, Lena ran for the bathroom, tossing her purse on the couch.  What a way to enter a room, Lena thought.  Nothing subtle about running to the bathroom to vomit.  Would she be able to lie if Vince confronted her about it?  She'd wanted to talk to her parents about her pregnancy privately, not in front of the Battaglias. And certainly not in front of Vince.  Did he even have any rights to her baby?  He raped her for goodness sake.  But then again, they were engaged, and in his mind he had every right to have sex with her. 

When did life get so complicated?  Lena was only twenty-five and a half years old; this was supposed to be the prime part of her life – experiencing new things, enjoying a wild career – where did it all go wrong?  Listening to Vince.  That's where it all went wrong.  Agreeing to turn down the production assistant position in New York City, because Vince had instructed her to do so, was her first mistake.  Accepting his marriage proposal was the second.

Lena swooshed mouthwash around in her mouth, then washed her face.  The splashing of the cool water on her face was a well-needed energy boost.  Hopefully she could hold it together in front of the Battaglias.

"What the fu...?"

"Vince," Mrs. Morella scolded her son of thirty-one years when he responded abusively to Lena's return entrance into the dining room.

"No. I wanna know.  What's going on with you?" An angry Vince addressed Lena.  "You break up with me, then you're gone this entire weekend. Where were you?  With your boyfriend?"

"Vince, stop," his mother again commanded.

Jules held her hand out for Lena to sit next to her.

"So what is it, Lena, you pregnant? ...With your boyfriend's baby?"

"Vince," both sets of parents exclaimed in unison.

"Vince." Lena finally spoke up. "It's not...like that."

"Ah," he yelled. "You
are
pregnant, goddammit."

Lena bowed her head, wondering how Vince picked up on it so quickly.  "Yes," she whispered, but soon found her voice.  "I don't have a boyfriend though, Vince. It's yours." And suddenly, looking at him felt dirty and she could no longer stand to be in the same room with him.

Before she could turn to walk out, she caught the expression on Vince's face. Like the devil getting away with murder, his shit-eating grin caused a fury so strong within Lena, that she could not ignore him.  "You can wipe that grin off your face, Vince."  His name tasted like hot vomit on her tongue. "You know how I got pregnant."  She didn't care that their parents were there, she needed to get this out once and for all.  "Or did you forget that you forced yourself on me against my will?"

Gasps were heard at the table, but Lena kept her gaze on Vince, after verbally slapping him across the face.

"What?" Frank and Mr. Battaglia said simultaneously, as Frank leapt across the table to grab Vince by the neck.

"Frank," Jules snapped. "Get down."

Frank did, but he then bolted around the table and punched Vince in the face. Vince, set to repay a punch for a punch, was intercepted by his father. "Vince," Mr. B. said. "Is this true?"

"She's my friggin fiancé, I shouldn't have to ask." Vince was pissed.

The twisted face on Mr. B spoke of shame, plain and simple. His son had clearly embarrassed and tarnished the Battaglia's reputation.  "You
always
have to ask.
Always.
" Mr. B. was out the door, apparently too ashamed to be in the same room with his son.

"Lena." Jules strained to remain calm and turned toward her seated daughter, placing her hand on Lena's trembling thigh. "Did he really...force," the words, clearly difficult for Jules to utter, "did he really?"  Jules cried, unable to resist her own emotions.

Nodding, Lena cried along with her mother.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Mom, I shoulda..."

"Oh, fuck this Lena, you were my fiancé. You didn't want to fool around. I
had to
force it in order to get any."

"Oh Vincent," Mrs. Battaglia cried.  "How could you?"

"Frank." Lena and Jules had only realized, when Frank walked back into the room, that he'd disappeared momentarily.  But he wasn't happy.

"You. Are. A. Monster." Her furious father grabbed Vince by the collar again.  "I'm not going to hit you this time, I called the police. Forcing yourself on my daughter is a crime. They'll be here any..."

As if Frank somehow cued the sound effects, the sirens blared outside.

"No. Frank. Please. You didn't," Mrs. Battaglia pleaded. "Oh Frank, please, you can't do this, please, it'll ruin us."

"Ruin you? What about my daughter? Now she has a pregnancy to deal with.  You don't think this will ruin her?" Frank snapped.

A fleeting, empathetic twinge coursed through Lena's veins.  Mrs. Battaglia's concern for her reputation, rather than her son's well-being, was one of the reasons Lena had found it so hard to let go.  Vince's pathetic family caused a pitying tug at Lena's heart, often softening her resolve so much, that she'd forget his misgivings.  But not this time. She needed to stay strong. His upbringing was no excuse to behave in such an animalistic fashion.  His brutality towards her was wrong…regardless of his lack of parental love and guidance. 

Before Lena had finished her thoughts, the policemen were in the house handcuffing her ex-fiancé, while Mrs. Battaglia cried tears of shame in the palm of her hands, and Jules held her crying daughter on the couch.  Mr. Battaglia was back, evidently receiving the news of his son's arrest during the time he was gone.

Mr. B. whispered something to the officer.

"I'm sorry, Al," the officer responded to Vince's dad's whisper. "We have to take him in.  We'll get a statement from both parties, we'll set bail, and we'll have Vince released by morning, latest."

Mr. B. shook his head and turned his attention to Lena's father. "Frank, you can't press charges. How much?"

"What? You think this is about money?" Frank was furious.  "This is about
your
son committing a crime, plain and simple, Al."

"If it's not about money, then why bother? Abort the kid; shove the whole thing under the rug.  You bring this to court, it's not just my son who gets hurt. You think your daughter's not going to be affected?"

"She's affected already...you know what, my lawyer will get in touch with you.  I'm done."  Frank threw his hands up in the air.

"Sir," the officer interrupted, attending to Frank. "We do need to get a statement from your daughter.  Can you bring her down tonight?"

Lena watched her father's somber nod.  Her breaking heart was crumbling even more knowing she was the cause of her parents' sorrow.  If only she had put a stop to Vince's abuse long ago.  Why she hadn't, she could not say...but now... it was time.