Free Maybe This Life by J.P. Grider

bridge should have been crossed a year ago, the first time Vince stole her innocence. How ‘bout, ‘Mom. He beats me. Regularly.’ No. Another bridge untouched. What was left? Another truth. “Mom,” she cried into her hand, still being used as a support. “I don’t want to get married.” She finally dropped her hand and looked at her mother. “Not now. Not to Vince.”
    “You are young yet,” her mom validated. “I never did think you were ready.”
    Lena wiped her eyes. “Really, Mom? It’s okay to break it off?” Lena asked, with just the tiniest hint of hope.
    “Of course, Lena. Your father and I would never want you to do anything you’re not ready for. Especially marriage.”
    Jules’ reassuring support was like a beacon in the night. Lena finally could see happiness up ahead.
    But how would she tell Vince? It wouldn't be easy. And she most definitely could not do it alone.
    “Mom. Could you and Daddy help me tell Vince and his parents? I…really don’t want to do it alone.”
    “Of course. Now,” Jules got up and went to the stove, “how ‘bout some pot roast?”
    Suddenly, Lena felt famished. “Okay. I love your pot roast.” Lena got herself a plate and brought it to her mom. “Where is everybody? I mean…Daddy’s working, but what about Katrina and the boys?”
    “Katrina’s at Joe’s house, Francis is working and Antonio is at school. Nicky and Christopher are with Daddy. Wrestling practice. Dad’s not working tonight.”
    “Oh.”
    “They should be home soon. Why don’t you stay here tonight? You know your room upstairs is still yours.”
    Lena liked that idea. “Yeah. I will. I still have half my clothes here, so I don’t even need to go get anything.”
     
    “Great.” Jules was perfect. Lena was so grateful that she had her for a mother.
    Tomorrow, she’d be unengaged.
    And finally free from Vince Battaglia.

Chapter Thirteen
     
     
     
     
     
    Vince bolted through the Giordano’s front door, crashing it into the bottom step of the staircase. “Lena,” he bellowed.
    Jules came running to the door, Christopher following. Lena stood in the kitchen doorway, afraid to move forward.
    “What’s your problem, Vince? You don’t bust in our house like that,” fifteen-year-old Christopher warned.
    “Christopher.” Jules put her hand on his shoulder. “Now, Vince. What’s got you so upset that you need to crash through our front door without knocking?”
    “Lena’s avoiding me. I wanna know why,” he commanded.
    “Vince. She’s been sick. Today was her first day out, and I asked her to stay here for the night.”
    “What’d she tell you?” Vince once again demanded an answer. Lena peered out from behind the half-wall that blocked her from Vince’s sight.
    “Lena,” he howled. “What’d you tell ‘em?”
    “Nothing, Vince,” Lena said quietly, wishing he would just go away. “Nothing. I…I.”
    Jules put her hand up to stop Lena from finishing her sentence. “Vince, come in the kitchen, now. C’mon. I’ll get you a cup of coffee. We’ll sit,” Jules turned to Christopher, “Go get your father. He’s upstairs."
    Christopher two-stepped the staircase. Vince followed Jules and Lena into the kitchen.
    Fortunately, when Frank came home earlier, Lena had informed her father of her decision to break up with Vince. Frank’s only apprehension was his concern for the Battaglias. He knew in a large, estimable family like theirs, a broken engagement would definitely be public fodder, and he would never want to discredit their reputation. But in the end, it was Frank’s daughter’s well-being that mattered above all else. He gave his support and promised to help her through it.
    Lena’s father Frank entered the room as he entered every room, commanding respect by his mere presence – a  man of short stature yet great power, the effect of holding world powerlifting records for the past two decades.
    Aggravated and tense already, Vince sat rigid when the