Personal Possessions

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is
entirely coincidental.

PERSONAL POSSESSIONS Copyright © 2014 by
Tracy Lee.

ISBN:

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Cover Art Design: Sprinkles on Top Studios
LLC

Cover Art Illustrations: Sprinkles on Top
Studios LLC

Copyright © Jan. 09, 2014

Published by: Bar Publishing

Printed in (United States of America)

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Acknowledgements

Right off, I have to thank all my readers. I
can’t tell you how much you have touched my heart with your great
words of encouragement, support and love. Know that YOU are the
reason why I bring my dreams out into open air! I am so excited
that you loved TJ and Elle as much as I did. Keep those reviews
coming because that’s the only way that we are going to be able to
spread the word about their story.

My family; my amazing husband, Shawn who has
played the role of Mr. Mom while I finished writing TJ’s story.
Thank you and I love you!!

My aunt and uncle, Tommy and Ruth who have
cheered me on one hundred percent and I love the both of you with
all my heart!

To my girls: Trina, Marion, Jeni, Ruby,
Nikki, Stacy…love you all!

I have to give a huge shout out to Nicky for
reassuring me my shit was where it needed to be. Thank you girl! I
cannot wait to see where this road leads the three of us!

Thank you Brianna, my assistant, for all your
hard work…you took a load off of my shoulders, girl! I couldn’t do
it without you!

Faith with Bar Publishing, you rock, Chick!!
Good and positive things are in the cards for us! Thank you for all
your hard work to get this book straight and out!

To my betas: Amy S, Rebekkah, Trina, Amy C. I
can’t imagine of having anyone else read for me other than ya’ll. I
hope you’re ready for the road ahead!

To the bloggers that have worked with me with
promos on blog tours. Thank you so much!!

My cover artist, Sarah at Sprinkles on Top
Studios…you do not disappoint, Thank you!

Thank you, every one of you! You can never
imagine how much you have touched my heart!

Enjoy Personal Possessions!

-Tracy

I once read a quote from
Aristotle that said
“Love is composed of a
single soul inhabiting two bodies.”

Throughout my life I have
seen heartbreak. Chaos grew like weeds over the fresh soil of
relationships, making passion unobtainable because it never had an
inkling of a spot to develop in. Affairs that, to me couldn’t
comprehend the real meaning of what Aristotle described as love.
People searching lifespans to find even a miniscule scrap of
emotion that was so astonishing it made people kill, hurt, lie and
cheat for it. And yet, they died never knowing the true meaning of
what Aristotle’s words meant.

There was a very
distinctive few that got the chance to comprehend what it meant,
and then there were an even smaller number of couples who were
blessed with the unique opportunity to not only understand it, but
lived it.

Elleny and I lived this
proverb.

Raw energy that comes from
sharing one soul with another is so intense and overpowering, it
seeps out of you. Not understanding this feeling, the only way to
find some type of reprieve is to crawl into that other person’s
body and we all know that isn’t even possible.

You’ve heard couples say
things like “as soon as I saw them, I just knew I was going to
marry her” or “I flat out told her I’m going to marry you.” That’s
how it feels, that’s the feeling that hit me that day in school.
It’s so strong, inside of you, you can’t fight it; can’t think
about anything else. You have no choice, but to just let it lead
you.

This was unfortunately not
the case with my parents

From the moment I could
remember, my parents always fought. Nothing physical, more of the
verbal takedown to see who could be the cruelest and destroy the
other one’s spirit first. Seeing as both my mom and dad were two of
the most headstrong people in the world, they both thought that
each of them was justified. These arguments were not just your
average ordinary disputes such as money, bills or my well-being…
these were struggles that were straight from the heart. My dad’s
was as black as tar, where my mom’s was as pure as a child’s
soul.

You see, my dad didn’t
love my mom, not one bit. He had no choice but to marry her. Being
from an influential family, they would’ve disowned him once they
found out she was pregnant with me. So, to make up for the
“domestic misery” at home, dad cheated on her whenever he had the
chance. Not even with one specific woman, no, he had
multiples.

I’d hear him talking on
phone
calls, “I have one nagging wife
tying me down as it is, I don’t need two of them bitchin’ in my
fuckin ear.”

On the other hand, my mom
adored my dad. She worshipped him like he was the creator of the
moon, and the sun. He’d come home smelling of perfume, she’d
overlook it and continue on as if nothing was out of the norm. He’d
even go as far as to bring women home, drunk and stick them in one
of the guest rooms. She would see the ladies, if you can call them
that, leaving the next morning and her smile wouldn’t even falter.
I caught her one night in town with one of the other ladies from
the Rotary club saying, “They may get him for a night, but I get
him until the day he dies.” That was a pretty fucked up theory
about the situation but hey, who was I to judge? There wasn’t
anything that I could say that would change her mind.

I loved my mom with all my
heart, and I always felt that deep down she had to be miserable.
Giving your whole heart away and not receiving one in return; what
kind of love was that? She deserved to be treated with respect for
the beautiful woman that she was.

Once I got older, I
suggested that she leave him. She just told me, “Sweetie, I
promised that I would see this through till the end. Now what kinda
lady would that make me if I broke my promise?”

I just nodded and went on
with what I was doing because I knew I couldn’t argue with her, she
was set in her ways and she was standing firm.

My dad was a businessman,
an investing son of a bitch. Traveling all over the country, he was
busy making deals and meeting his next “business builder.” He just
knew when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em when it came to selling
out. . Dreaming of one day working on Wall-Street, I idolized him
when it came to his business abilities. My dad was a straight up,
hard ass for investments. He used to tell me “Son, if you give them
an inch to flinch, you’ve given them enough space to haul ass.” I
wanted that to be me. I wanted to be the one demanding the
attention, not the one being demanded.

It was because of him that
I got my drive, but that was all I got from that piece of shit.
Feeling sick every time I looked at him over the way he treated my
mom, I would tend to find ways to stay away from him. Listening in
at the top of the stairs late at night, I could hear her pleading
with everything that was in her to give them a chance. Him flat out
denying her request, telling her it wasn’t worth it, and that there
would never be anything between them. It made me want to
vomit.

Who the fuck did he think
he was, that he was so much better than her? She made sure that he
was taken care of daily. Supper was cooked, clothes were washed,
and yet all she asked him for in return was for him to love her.
Hell, the more I thought of it, the more I hated him.

My dad did do one thing
right, he provided for us financially. Sally-Ann Broderick-McHale
was a woman of wealth. Never having worked a day in her life, she
made up for it by giving her time away free and she deserved the
life she lived. There was always a PTA meeting to attend. A
luncheon to grace with her presence, probably to plan the next
charity event that was part of some club she was a member of. She
would volunteer in the children’s ward, at the local hospital, and
she was also the chairperson for the annual ball to raise money for
the local battered women’s shelter. In my eyes, my mother was a
saint.

I laid in my bed staring
up at the ceiling, listening to my mom, once again beg for him to
give her just an ounce of his affection. The deep sound of his
laughter rang through the house. I pictured her down on her knees
in front of him; hands folded staring up at him, pleading. This
time it was the night before the meet and greet at my school, I was
going into the second grade. I was so anxious to start back up,
sleep wasn’t an option and it was getting late. Suddenly, it got
eerily quiet. I heard the door to my room creak open as I saw the
light from downstairs peek through the opening.

“
I see those eyes, little
man,” My mom said in her nasally voice.

I knew what that meant;
she had been crying again, he was such a bastard. “You’ve got a big
day tomorrow, meeting your teacher. You don’t wanna look like
you’ve been up all night, do you?”

I sat up “But momma, I
already know her.” Coming over to me, gently nudging me back down.
Kissing my head, “I know that, but let’s not spoil our fun, ok?
Let’s pretend we don’t and tomorr’a will be a big surprise!” She
forced a smile, despite her puffy and red eyes. She tucked me in.
Nodding and closing my eyes, I whispered, “Love you, momma.” Just
as my door clicked shut I heard, “Love you back.”

It was then that I vowed
to myself, I would never live that way. My mother and father were
not one of those couples who really understood what Aristotle was
speaking about. I decided right then, on that very night that when
I met the right girl, the one that would become my wife, I would
give her everything. There would not be one piece of me that didn’t
belong to her. Seeing as how one’s personal possessions are
naturally the most significant assets to any single human being, I
would hand her every part of what I held sacred. She would own
me.

Little did I know, where
that vow would lead me the very next day.

Showing up for the meet
and greet, my mom walked with me to my classroom. I had gotten up
extra early to make sure that I had time to brush my teeth, and
style my hair. Since I knew mostly everyone already from preschool
or junior football, I didn’t have to think about making a huge
impression. I just wanted to make sure that I was lookin’ my
best.

As I turned the corner, I
noticed the room was loud. Twenty-two kids were running around
while their parents sat at the desks listening to Ms. Wilde address
them about the school supply lists. I saw Bear, he was standing
next to his granny who was seated in his desk listening, whispering
something in her ear. She shook her head and he stomped away,
making me snicker. Skeeter Davis was stalking the cubbies filled
with the baby dolls to see which girl he could go up to, and grab
their bottoms. I thought to myself that one of these days I was
gonna whoop his ass for that shit.