Promises Kept

By Sarah Fournier

They say watch what you wish for because it might just come true. For young Jessica Bailor that’s exactly what happened. She is haunted by one terrible wish, a moment of weakness and a teenage temper that went wild. She travels and works abroad for 10 years before she realizes that you can’t outrun your past. It is time to go home and face the awful truths that lurk there and figure out what to do next. She can’t change the past or the fact that she uttered words that she believes Karma collected on and now she has to live with the guilt, shame and loneliness that comes with it. There are some things you just can’t change and sometimes facing them is the best way to get past it and move on. Life will never be the same for Jessica, she will never be able to return to the person she once was, but perhaps she can uncover things about herself she never knew and know what it is to live again. Out of her heart wrenching pain, of something that’s too late to take back, Jessica now has to find a way to either make or break the promise she made and take her life back, one way or another.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarah Fournier
• Release date: Nov 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9780993623509

Book preview

Promises Kept

A Novel By

Sarah Fournier

Copyright: Sarah Fournier

Published: 23rd December 2013

ISBN: 978-0-9936235-0-9

Smashwords Edition

The right of JD Selmser to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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Cover design by Tara @ Fantasia Frog Designs

Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Fournier

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Contents

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Preface:

How do you run from the demons in your life? How far would you have to go? I traveled half way across the world to try and find release from the shame and the guilt. I never knew one muttered thought could lead to a life of loneliness until it happened. I thought I was justified in my anger at the time. I didn’t realize the impact that would have on me for the rest of my life and, no matter how far I ran, I just couldn’t get away.

The night the devil knocked at my door, my whole world changed. Not just my world, but my perspective of the world as well. Innocence and the invisible status of a teenage mind stopped being mine when someone else’s bad decision changed my life forever. You see not everything is black and white. There are various shades of grey that you don’t see when you focus on the tangible points, feelings, emotions, circumstances, regret and most of all guilt, color the world behind the scenes. Everyone blamed that bad decision and posted it as a reason to what happened that night. I knew better, I knew there was so much more to it than that.

If I could go back to before that night, there would be many things I would have told the younger version of myself. I would have told her to work hard, be respectful and that there were certain things that weren’t as important as she once thought and certain other things were more important. I would have told her to work hard in school and not care what other people thought. I would have told her to embrace the person she was in a positive way instead of being destructive. I would have told her that being hulled up in her room away from her family was not a good idea and that some things weren’t worth fighting over.

I would have told her to love her parents and her brother with all her might and even if she felt slighted by them, to ignore that and focus on the good things instead. I would have told her not to dwell on her own selfish feelings and to focus on the happiness of the family as a whole. I would have told her to do more and say more that showed how much she truly cared and loved them. Instead I made the choices that took the opposite approach, like how most days I couldn’t stand them.

You may be thinking that the attitude and selfishness and all that lies between, is a rite of passage for a teenager, you would be right, but I know for an absolute fact the shame that comes with it. A life time of regret and pain is not worth a few years of being emotionally selfish. There were so many things I would have told her that were much more important than being a stereotypical teenager. I would have told her to hug and kiss her parents more and appreciate her brother. I would have told her to keep pushing through and to gently speak to her parents instead of yell harshly at them. I would have told her they have feelings too.

So many things that younger version of myself should have known. It would have saved me so much today. I knew the difference between right and wrong but back then, I was right and they were wrong. It was the wrong way to look at things. The day I muttered my destiny under my breath, I changed my whole life. Karma heard me and collected. I must have been much more terrible than I remembered, perhaps all the things I thought were good about me was wrong also. I didn’t know.

I do know this; hell isn’t hot like everyone assumes it is. There are no torturous flames licking the skin as it melts away. That isn’t what hell is. It is cold, brutally so. The kind of cold where no matter how much you tried to get warm you couldn’t. It was the kind of cold that hit you to the deepest core of your being. The kind that there is nothing you can do to warm yourself up. You just have to endure the pinching pain of the burning cold. You are not secluded from everyone, you are not trapped in some pit below the surface of the earth; instead you are forced to live with them and see their happiness while you are pushed to watch in your own secret anguish.

Yes, many things I would have told that younger version of myself. The biggest thing I would have told her would have been to take the late marks on that project and go with her parents that night so that she could be with them. Yet, I didn’t, she didn’t and things were never same.

Chapter One – The Black Sheep

As I settle in my seat, my heart is jumping all around my chest. After 10 long years, I am returning home for the first time since the worst night of my life. It was the night that changed the course of who I am and what I dreamed about. I am so filled with anticipation; I can feel it filling me like a bowl of warm Chicken noodle soup, warming me from the inside out. Mixed with this warm feeling is one of dread. I am heading back to everything I ran away from years ago. Time to face my demons I guess. Except these demons are ones that have followed me every day for the past 10 years, 6 months and 8 days. Yes I have it narrowed down the exact minute my whole world came crashing down, but I will spare you the numbers.

Funny thing about demons, people always say they are the bad things that you create in life. Not mine; they are the ones that came knocking on my door on one of the coldest nights in January my northern Ontario town had ever experienced. I remember how cold it was because even with the furnace on high, I could not feel fully warm siting at the computer working on a major biology project. Looking out the window you could see the pillars of smoke coming from the neighbor’s chimney, almost like a lit pathway to heaven. There was ice forming on the inside of the window, crisp and clear with just a touch of white like newly fallen snow. I didn’t create these demons, someone else did, they just came to me uninvited and have been with me ever since.

I stash my carry on under the seat in front of me for easy access and buckle my belt as the pilot comes on to offer a greeting. The stewardess has already been through the safety procedures and emergency procedures for the large Boeing 777 airplane I am on. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t pay any attention. It doesn’t matter I am no stranger to flying. I have spent a lot of time on airplanes in the past 10 years. The world’s fastest mode of transportation and yet not fast enough to dismiss the memories. There are some things you just can’t outrun, no matter how fast you are.

I sigh as the guy beside me starts to snore, the plane hasn’t even left the ground yet and my seat mate is already asleep. It is a long 15 hour straight flight from Seoul South Korea to Toronto Ontario Canada, no stops. I usually try to make conversation with the people I am flying with and after a quick glance around I realize I am on my own this flight. Just as well. I have much to think about.

I settle into my seat and relax against the window as the plane levels off in the air. It’s going to be a long trip, but not long enough. I am not excited to go back. I have nothing but pain to go back too. Sooner or later though it has to be faced, I can’t run my whole life. I have a promise to fulfill. I sigh, as memories start flooding my mind. They are so vivid you would never know that it’s been more than a decade since these scenes took place.

***

Do you have homework? My dad asked me as I made my way up to my room after school.

No dad, I don’t. I answer with a sigh. Both dad and mom are sitting at the table in dining room and they have a mess of scattered papers in front of them. Mom looks troubled and dad looks his usual grumpy self. I don’t really pay much attention as I make my way up the last set of stairs to my bedroom in our large split level home. The upstairs consisted of 4 rooms, on the right hand side was the bathroom and my parent’s bedroom, on the left was the two smaller rooms. Mine was at the end of the hallway on the outside wall.

I opened my door and kicked my way through the clothes lying on the floor. My room was organized chaos, I knew where everything was but to the outside eye it was a disaster. It was a constant source of tension between my parents and I. They were perfectionists that required everything to be clean all the time. Anytime I would dust the house or vacuum the floor, my dad always noticed something I did wrong. I was never thanked for the times I got up on the weekend before everyone else and cleaned. Even doing the dishes, my mom always had something to say. I needed this one space to be mine. I had books everywhere, my dresser top was scattered with various pieces of jewelry I had bought myself over the years and my repurposed tackle box on the floor contained all my nail polish and make up.

My room was pretty fancy for a teenage girl and didn’t suit my style at all. My mom had this weird obsession with pink. Dusty rose she called the color that was my carpet, my flowered wallpaper and the walls. It was furnished nicely with a large day bed that was made of white and gold brass and had hearts on it that were decorated with flowers that were the color, you guessed it, pink. My large double dresser was white and had a matching book shelf and end table. The dresser and the end table had interchangeable handles in multi colours, my mom had put the pink in and when I was old enough I changed them out for aqua green. I also bought an aqua green phone and a new bedspread for my bed. It was multi coloured but was prominently aqua. I hated pink. I hated it with a passion. If I could have changed the walls and the carpet, I would have.

The first two shelves of the book shelf were home to books from my favorite author. I had so many books that they were stacked two deep. On the other three shelves were the candles I have been collecting for a couple years now. I had about 150 of them at last count. Sitting on top of my end table was my stereo system. It had a three CD disk changer and dual cassette player. The younger generation today would not recognize cassettes but they were big when I was a teenager. It was an awesome stereo. It said hello to me when I turned it on and goodbye when I shut it off. It had a remote that made it easy for me to listen to music while lying in bed. In the drawers of the end table was my music collection. The top drawer was all my cassettes and the bottom drawer was all my CD’s. I had thousands of songs tucked away in those drawers. My tastes were vast from Celine Dion to Garth Brooks. There was rap, rock and a lot of country.

I snorted in disgust at all the pink in my room and lay down on my bed and started to read the teenage drama in the book I took out of the library earlier that day. I was not far in chapter one when I could hear raised voices coming from downstairs.

What do you want me to do Diane? bellowed my father. We just don’t have the money! My employment insurance doesn’t cover much beyond the house insurance, the car insurance and our life insurance policies. Then there is your paycheck that doesn’t cover anything but the mortgage and maybe a payment on the visa!

I’m not blaming you Rob! Mom responds equally forceful. I just don’t know what we are going to do, there is no money to pay the bills or buy groceries. The cupboards are getting really slim and I can’t even buy Fucking groceries!

My parents were religious and quite piously so, so when mom swore, I knew she was at the end of her rope. Their argument wasn’t anything new, after dad got hurt at work and had to stop working while he endured surgery after surgery on his arm, money has been tight. In my young teenage mind, I never paid much attention to it,