Surviving Broken(24)
When Tess hung up her phone the previous day, Tom knew something was wrong. JC was supposed to be boarding a plane for Greece, but she called saying she had the flu again. Tess paced in circles chewing on her lip. He asked if she was okay and Tess replied yes, but when his wife appeared at the front door five minutes later with her running shoes on, he realized she was concerned about JC. Tess loved to run, but also used it as a tool to clear her head.
Later that evening, Tess admitted she thought something was wrong, really wrong. Tom asked, “What do you think it is?”
Tess frowned. Her voice filled with worry, “I don’t know. If she thinks she has the flu, maybe she’s pregnant. She sounded funny on the phone. You don’t think she’s doing drugs, do you?”
“No. She barely even drinks. Maybe she truly has the flu,” Tom said convincingly, though the strain grinding in his gut told him differently.
Boarding the private plane to Tuscany, Tom’s stomach turned waiting for take-off. He prayed Tess was wrong about JC being pregnant. Being married with children wasn’t on JC’s wish-list. And in Tom’s opinion, Luca was not the man for her. Tom did some digging into Luca’s past after Thanksgiving, but could find nothing out of the ordinary. Still, something about Luca put him off.
After the short flight, a car waited for Tom at the airport. He slipped inside and the driver navigated his way to Luca’s apartment. Noticing a flower vender across the street, Tom stopped to grab a bouquet of yellow sunflowers, JC’s favorite. He jogged up the stairs, taking them two by two.
Holding the sunflowers in front of the peephole, he rang the doorbell, grinning to himself hearing movement on the other side of the metal door.
JC’s voice asked from behind the safety of the door, “Who is it?”
Tom jiggled the flowers wrapped in tissue and deepened his already husky voice. “Flower delivery.”
The door creaked open four inches, exposing the right side of JC’s face hidden behind sunglasses. He chuckled with a wide smile, lowering the bouquet. “I was going to bring chicken noodle soup, but I couldn’t find a decent café.”
Tom nudged the door open a little further with his shoulder, revealing the other side of her face.
Blinding fury swept over him in a tidal wave of hatred.
His hand fell to his side, dropping the flowers on the ground. “Jesus Christ!” Tom shoved JC to the side, barging through the door. “Where is he? Luca!” he screamed searching through the apartment, room-by-room with heel digging strides. “I’m gonna kill that prick-”
“Is my Mom with you?” she croaked through sobs.
He turned his attention back to JC, who clung to the door, shaking uncontrollably. “Oh my God! Come here baby.” Tom reeled toward her, but she shirked away. He lowered his voice and raised his hands to the side, approaching her slowly. “It’s okay, JC. Come here.”
Tears rolled down her badly beaten face as she placed her trembling palm on his heaving chest, holding him back at arm’s length. Cupping the side of her face as if it she were holding it together in pieces, she wept again, “Is my Mom here? Please tell me she’s not outside? She can’t see me like this.”
“No. She’s not here. Your Mom’s in Greece.” With that, JC collapsed against Tom’s chest, feebly sobbing.
Mindful not to hurt her, he took her into his arms and gently stroked her hair. Minutes passed before he could find the courage to ask, “JC, let me see you. Look at me.” He led her to the sofa, holding out his hand, asking for her sunglasses.
She shook her head.
“JC, give me your glasses.” He insisted in a soft voice, trying to keep his wits about him as rage fused with shock at the sight of his brutally battered daughter.
Nothing could have prepared Tom for what lay hidden beneath her sunglasses. The right side of her face was distorted, her eye was swollen completely shut and badly bruised. A deep split on her bottom lip oozed clear liquid.
He carefully brushed the hair out of her face. She flinched when he gently lifted her chin. “Don’t touch me!” she screeched.
Tom grimaced pulling back his hand. “I just want to check you over. Is anything broken? Where else are you hurt, baby?”
Her limbs vibrated violently and she started sobbing again. JC leaned forward on the sofa and threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly until the tremors diminished.
“I hurt all over, but I’m not broken.” She withdrew from his shoulder shaking her head, saying repeatedly as if trying to convince herself, “I’m not broken. I am not broken. I will not let him break me.”