You Broke My Promise

Chapter 1

Yeah. I know it’s late. Don’t you think I’d send something if I had something to send? You know what? I’m glad these calls are monitored. This way, everyone else can hear what I have to say. There’s a bunch of idiots running that company. Constantly calling people and telling them you haven’t received their payments won’t get you your money any faster.

Shawn slammed the phone into its cradle. He looked in the direction of his wife, Allie, but not directly at her. She sat in the kitchen with her elbows on the table and her fingers clasped underneath her resting chin. She watched him slam the phone down. His face was red, and his eyes were lost. Shawn sat quietly for a moment before his eyes came up to meet hers. They can’t help us anymore.

The glassy look in Allie’s eyes turned to tears. They fell and ran down past her pinkish, round cheeks. They struggled to hang from her soft jawline, but the weight of the tears was too much. They fell and made small puddles on the table below.

He walked over to her from behind, leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder, and locked his fingers together around her stomach.

What do you mean they can’t help us anymore? she asked.

He kissed the back of her neck softly. The lady said they’ve done everything they could.

A tear slipped from his watering eyes. It fell to her shoulder and made a small wet spot on her blouse. He quickly swiped his hand over his cheek before any more tears fell.

She became angry. It isn’t fair.

I know it isn’t fair.

He stood and began gently stroking her long, wavy black hair. Allie was five foot five and 127 pounds with big, beautiful brown eyes. She jumped up quickly from her chair, turned toward him, and pushed him away. You’re damn right it isn’t fair.

Hesitant to approach her and be pushed away again, he spoke from where he was. Everything’s gonna be OK. We’ll figure this out. I promise.

He moved slowly toward her with his arms out. They embraced one another. Their little girl skipped into the kitchen. She sang while wearing a princess dress and waving a wand in the air.

Christine—or Chrissie, as everyone called her—was four years old. Her long brown hair came to the middle of her back. This brown-eyed, thirty-pound sweetheart always had a smile on her face. Christine could make anyone feel better just by looking at her.

Shawn and Allie stepped back from one another. Allie cleared the tears from her eyes. They both greeted Christine as she walked into the kitchen.

Well, there’s the prettiest princess in all the land, Shawn said as he bowed.

You look so beautiful, sweetie, Allie said as she curtsied.

Where’s your brother? Shawn asked Christine.

I sent him out to fight the mean dragon that comes to scare the people.

Pretend fear covered Shawn’s face. Well, then, we should go help him so he can return to the kingdom safely.

OK, Christine said.

Shawn and Allie looked at each other with open smiles, and then both of Cody’s saviors galloped toward the kitchen door as if riding horses. Dinner will be ready in an hour, Allie said.

What are we having? Shawn asked.

Meat loaf.

Shawn and Christine stopped galloping. They both looked each other, and at the same time, they screamed in terror and ran out of the house. No! Not meat loaf!

***

The alarm clock went off. Shawn reached over and gave it a quick slap to quiet its annoying sound. It read 5:00 a.m. He rolled over and snuggled up to his wife’s back. He gently pushed his pelvis against her and moved it in a circular motion. She moaned with interest and pushed back slightly. She knew he didn’t have time in the morning for playing around, but he always liked to tease himself a little before going work.

Kissing her softly between her shoulder blades, he worked his way up and gave her kisses around her very warm, almost-moist neck. He whispered into her ear. I really need to set that alarm to an earlier time.

He slowly worked his way to the edge of the bed and sat there a moment. She pulled the covers over to her side and up close to her body.

I love you, he said quietly.

In return he got a shuffle from under the covers along with a small moan and a mumbled response. I love you.

He walked maladroitly into the master bedroom’s full bathroom, and he turned on the shower faucet. While waiting for the water to get hot, he stepped in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door to flex his well-sculpted, golden-tan body. He stood six feet tall and had blue eyes, a crew cut, and a closely trimmed, almost-shadowed beard and mustache.

While driving to work, he couldn’t help but think about the phone call he had received yesterday from the mortgage company. They told him they hadn’t received payment yet—again.

He began getting frustrated the more he thought about it, and that frustration affected his driving. He became angry with the other drivers on the road. There was always so much traffic on his way to work. He lived in Beloit, Wisconsin and traveled to Milton—which was about thirty minutes north. He noticed his anger was much worse today than it had been in a long time.

He released his built-up anger by pounding his fist on the steering wheel. Just as he did, he heard the sound of screeching tires and crunching metal as his body jerked forward abruptly. He nearly bashed his head into the windshield. He slammed on his brakes and held the steering wheel tightly. He wondered if someone had hit him or if he had hit someone because his mind wasn’t completely on driving.

Before putting his car in park and turning it off, he looked in front of him and then in the rearview mirror. That was when he saw smoke. All the traffic to his left kept moving as if nothing had happened.

Son of a…I don’t need this shit today.

He looked in his side mirror before opening his door. The traffic didn’t slow in recognition of the accident. He quickly got out of his car while looking at the other cars as they passed. Before he reached the back of his car, another came uncomfortably close to him. He reached out his hand and waved to signal the driver to slow down. The driver didn’t even acknowledge there had been an accident.

Shawn stood at the back of his car, looked at the damage, and tried to figure out what had happened. When he saw the other driver, his calm demeanor changed to anger, and he started yelling at the driver.

What the hell is wrong with you?

The other driver interrupted Shawn’s rampage. I am so sorry, dude! I know this is totally my fault—

Yeah. You bet your ass it’s your fault.

Shawn didn’t give any hint he had not really been paying attention to the road, either.

The police are already on their way, the driver said. Don’t worry. I have really good insurance.

Neither said anything as they both paced back and forth and looked over the damage. The other driver wiped the back of his hand across his forehead in disbelief over what he’d just done. Shawn noticed the guy holding his cell phone in that hand. That image provided him with a short flashback to right before he had been hit. He remembered glancing in his rearview mirror and noticing the man looking at his cell phone. This made Shawn lose his temper again. You dumb ass. You were texting when you hit me!

The other driver was silent for a few seconds. I’m sorry. It was very important. It was from my office.

That answer was not on Shawn’s list of correct answers for the day. He spoke very loudly and sternly at the other driver. Don’t you pay attention to the news about texting and driving? It’s people like you who are killing innocent people today. You’ve got to be, what, early twenties? Learn the lesson now, punk, before you really do end up killing someone.

The other driver stood there while Shawn verbally abused him. The man then made a gesture as if he didn’t care about what Shawn was saying. This made Shawn even more upset, which caused him to rip the man’s phone from his hand and throw it to the ground. The phone shattered into pieces. Shawn chest-bumped the guy a couple of times. They pushed each other around, cussed, and threatened each other before it was over.

You asshole. That was my brand-new phone. It cost me six hundred bucks!

Both of them couldn’t even hear what the other was saying through all the yelling. The last thing Shawn remembered hearing the man say was he was going to regret smashing his phone.

Shawn felt he’d be better off waiting for the police back by his own car’s passenger’s door so he wouldn’t get the urge to rip off the kid’s head. The young kid dodged in and out of moving traffic and tried to pick up the pieces of his phone.

Shawn called Allie to tell her about what had happened. He wanted to let her know he was all right but the car was a little dinged up.

I’m glad you’re OK, but your car was a little dinged up before! she said.

The rear bumper was higher than it used to be by about three inches, and the gas tank had a dent in it now. Shawn drove an old 1973 Duster that was in pretty rough shape already. Dents and scratches from a previous accident filled the driver’s side.

The other driver hadn’t caught a break, though. He owned a 1988 BMW M3 series. It had a flat front end with four headlights and was fitted with spoilers on the front and back, including one on the trunk lid. There wasn’t much on the front of his car that hadn’t gotten damaged. His front end had slipped right under the Duster’s rear bumper, and the BMW’s bumper and grille and all its headlights had broken off. The hood was bent in half and pushed up to the windshield. All the parts that had been on top of the engine were now in pieces all over the ground, along with radiator fluid.

It didn’t take long for the police to arrive on the scene. The kid was charged with texting while driving—he admitted it—and reckless driving. Shawn was charged with destruction of personal property. Because both drivers had expressed unnecessary anger toward each other but no one was hurt, the officer decided not to charge either with road rage.

Chapter 2

Shawn finally pulled into work. He looked at the time on his phone—three and a half hours late. Son of a…this ought to make the boss happy. Asshole. The group he worked with started at 6:00 a.m., and his boss was a stickler about tardiness.

He worked at a company called Spool, which was an engineering design firm that offered support for companies and their ideas. Spool’s slogan was, Where Good Designs Come From.

The company had utilized flextime as a benefit to employees with children, but the they discontinued it because employees had been taking advantage of it.

Shawn often came in a few minutes late and sometimes later than that because of the traffic. He walked through the office and managed to catch a few wandering eyes. He used to show up for work on time every day and was a real go-getter, but when he was written up for mouthing off to his boss one day after coming in late, that stopped him from caring as much.

Sorry I’m late, guys. Some dumb ass hit me from behind out on the highway, Shawn said to his coworkers Jonny and Kyle.

Kyle glanced at Shawn. Yeah. There are some idiots out there. It looks as if you’re OK, though.

Yeah.

Kyle was one of Shawn’s work buddies and close personal friends. He was in his thirties, stood six foot seven, and was well built. His long, dark hair was down to his shoulders and was usually kept in a ponytail. Most people said he looked as if he had been a pro wrestler in a previous life.

I think you used that excuse this month already! Jonny said and smiled.

Jonny was Shawn’s other work buddy and close personal friend. He was also in his thirties and was medium build. He had light brown hair that was short and combed to the right. He looked as if he were stuck in the eighties and couldn’t find his way out.

Yeah. Lately I feel it wouldn’t take much for me to not show up. Shawn tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie.

Ah, c’mon. You love this place, and you know it, Jonny said and then chuckled.

Kyle, Jonny, and Shawn had begun working together about eight years before. Jonny and Kyle started at Spool when it first opened, and Shawn came in about three years later. They had all known each other when they were young but hadn’t gotten along that well. It took a while to grow on each other, but they had become best friends.

Things had been tough at the beginning for the company because it was a start-up. People were not always getting paid on time, there were no big contracts, and the bosses were lousy. The last item was still in effect in Shawn’s eyes.

Kyle and Jonny had had other plans after they finished college. They had wanted to open their own design firm. They had planned on working at Spool only long enough to gain some experience, but for some reason, they were still there. Shawn never ended up going to college; he had felt it wasn’t the best thing for a person like him. He had hated school. He did graduate, though, and then went right on to work in an automotive garage starting at minimum wage. He liked working with his hands, but he always wanted to try new things. So, one day, he applied at Spool. The next thing he knew, he was working for minimum wage as an entry-level assistant.

Every so often, all three would meet at one of the local pubs to discuss how they should quit Spool and start their own company. Jonny was really good at coming up with extraordinary designs. Many had been patented through Spool. Kyle was good at mechanical gadgets. He was also an avid history buff on warfare weapons. Give him anything, and he claimed he could make it into a weapon of some sort.

So, Shawn, what happened this morning at the accident? How’d it happen? Kyle asked.

Shawn stopped what he was doing, stared over Kyle’s head for a second, and thought about the accident. Their desks were set up in a triangle so they could all face each other as they worked.

Some punk was reading a text message when he hit me.

Is your car OK? Jonny asked.

Yeah. Mine’s OK, but he didn’t get so lucky.

Well, that’ll teach ’im, Kyle said.

Shawn continued to give them all the details about the accident, but after that, he kept to himself. He had other things on his mind besides the accident.

The thought of losing his house to foreclosure was really starting to affect his productivity. He and Allie both worked hard to make their home a special place for their family. He found himself staring off into space many times throughout the day and thinking about what he was going to do to make things right.

Allie worked as a nurse’s aide in the Beloit Clinic, but even with both incomes, they just barely made their monthly bills. When they had met, both had maxed-out credit cards; expensive hobbies, such as Allie’s shopping and Shawn’s cars; and low-paying jobs.

Shortly after Cody was born, Allie was let go from her job because of changes in management. She and Shawn decided it might be better for her to stay home while he continued to work. It would be more of a challenge keeping the bills paid, but Allie could either spend her paycheck on daycare or stay home and not work. When Christine was born, that was when life got a bit harder. Christine was born a preemie with ectopia cordis, a rare heart defect that in most cases was fatal.

They didn’t have good health insurance, and their medical bills became so far out of reach that only a miracle could help them. They were aware they could potentially be paying on those bills for the rest of their lives. They didn’t let that bother them, though, because in their minds, family was the most important thing a person could depend on, and family always came first—no matter what.

Kyle and Jonny noticed Shawn wasn’t too talkative, so at the end of the day, they walked up to his desk on their way out the door. They caught him in one of his staring-into-space moments. It’s time to go home. Kyle patted Shawn’s left shoulder.

Oh. Yeah…OK. Shawn began to shuffle in his seat and straighten up his desk.

Hey, buddy, you sure everything’s OK? Kyle asked.

Yeah. Everything’s fine.

You know you can tell us anything. We’re here for ya no matter what. Jonny rested his hand on Shawn’s right shoulder.

Yeah. I know. Shawn looked up at both of them.

OK, then. You have a good night, Kyle said.

Jonny gave Shawn a head nod along with a thumbs-up. Jonny and Kyle headed toward the exit.

It’s the house, Shawn tried to say quietly but loud enough for them to hear.

Shawn looked around to see if anyone else had heard him. Kyle and Jonny stopped and walked back to his desk.

What’s that, buddy? Kyle asked.

It’s the house.

What about the house?

I lied. Everything’s not OK.

What do you mean?

The damn mortgage company called yesterday. They said…they said they’re considering foreclosure.

What? Why? Jonny asked.

Both Kyle and Jonny looked at each other and then back at Shawn.

Shit, Kyle said. You mentioned a while back things were getting kind of tough, but we thought you pulled out of it because you hadn’t said anything more about it.

Shawn covered his face with his hands and slowly rubbed up and down in short strokes. I don’t know what we’re gonna do.

You know we’ll help you if we can.

I know, but it’s too much at this point.

Always trying to think of a solution for every problem, Jonny blurted out. You could always start playing the lottery.

Both Shawn and Kyle stared at him long enough to make him feel uneasy. Jonny wiped the smile off his face and squirmed a little in his shoes. Really, he said. It’s a game they started playing last year sometime. And right now, the jackpot’s something like $13 million.

Still staring at Jonny, Shawn got out of his chair and pushed the off button on his computer monitor. No one who really needs the money ever wins the lottery, Shawn walked toward the bathroom.

Kyle called after Shawn. Remember, buddy, we’ll help you if we can.

Thanks, guys. The way my life is going, I might call you on that offer.

After Shawn disappeared from their sight, Kyle gave Jonny a quick, sharp punch in the arm and mimicked him. ‘You could always start playing the lottery.’ What the hell was that?

What? I was just trying to cheer ’im up a little.

Well, you need to work on your act.

Soon after they left the office, Shawn returned to his desk to retrieve his keys from his desk drawer. As he turned to start walking toward the exit, the one thing he was hoping would not happen today finally did.

Shawn?

He heard a familiar voice coming from the direction of his boss’s office.

Ah…great! he thought before answering. Yeah?

Can I see you for a minute before you leave?

Yeah…sure. He walked to his boss’s office. I’m not in the mood for this piece of crap.

He stopped at the office doorway and rested his hands on the door frame.

Chapter 3

Shawn’s boss was in the process of writing a bunch of numbers on the whiteboard in his office. He was a short, chubby white guy. He had short brownish gray hair combed to the left, a big nose, big lips, and a space between each tooth. He was wearing gray Dockers and a pink long-sleeve dress shirt.

What can I do for ya? Shawn glanced at the array of numbers on the board.

Do you know what this information is? His boss pointed at the whiteboard.

Shawn read some of the information. It was in order by dates, but he couldn’t make anything of it except September 2, 9:30 a.m., which was the current date.

Sorry, he said. Without some context, the only one I know of is today’s date, but I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean.

Just then he realized the last couple of dates were days he had come in late.

Well, let me clue you in on exactly what this information is. His boss placed the erasable marker in its tray and stepped back just slightly behind his desk.

The desk faced the door. Stacks of papers and drawing tubes sat on a table off to the right of his desk. The whiteboard hung on the opposite wall of the table.

After his boss stepped behind the desk, Shawn noticed his boss’s face change to a bright red. He could sense something was upsetting him; deep inside, Shawn felt good about whatever it was. He liked to see him squirm.

This information is a list of dates and times for which you’ve been late for work or missed work within the last year.

OK, Shawn said uncertainly.

There are a total of fifty-four incidences in a one-year period alone. His boss paused to see what type of response he’d get from Shawn.

Shawn looked at the whiteboard and tried to remember some of the dates so he could give some kind of response. Nothing came out of his mouth.

No comment? his boss asked.

I don’t know what you want me to say.

You could start by telling me why—why there are so many, and why I shouldn’t have fired you long ago.

I’m sure most of them must have been something to do with my kids. I don’t keep track of why I’m out.

Well, maybe you should. The others don’t seem to have problems with being here more than not.

Shawn quickly began to get frustrated with this conversation. He crossed his arms so he could hide his fists in his armpits. That last comment had made his blood boil. For one, don’t compare me to the others. Didn’t you learn that when you trained to be a manager?

I’m not comparing you. I just said the other people who work here don’t have problems with getting here on time.

Listen! Shawn moved closer and pointed his finger at his boss’s face. I was in an accident this morning, I have a daughter who needs constant attention, and my wife doesn’t have a car anymore because it was repossessed last month. And I can’t predict when I’m gonna be sick. So you can take all that information and stick it up your ass!

To be honest with you, Shawn, none of that is our problem. We have a business to run here, and if you can’t keep up with us, then maybe you need to move on.

He could hear the shakiness in his boss’s voice. What? Shawn stared directly into his eyes.

That’s the way things go, his boss said. He tried not to make it obvious that he stepped farther behind his desk.

You know what? Shawn stepped closer to the desk to lean over it and point his finger in his face again. Go to hell. We’ll see what upper management thinks about all this.

I am upper management. What I say is no different than what anyone else in management will say.

Really? Shawn spoke in a quieter voice. Well, then…what will they say about this?

Shawn pushed the desk back with his legs so it pinned his boss against the wall. His boss let out a scream like a little schoolgirl at recess while he tried to stop the desk. The only thing keeping it from smashing him was the chair.

Shawn reached his left hand over the desk and grabbed his boss by his pink shirt. He threw a right punch at his boss’s face and broke his nose.

His boss yelled for help while blocking his face. Blood gushed from his nose and into his mouth and dripped down to his pink shirt. Help! he screamed again. You’re fired!

OK. If that’s the case, then I guess it doesn’t matter if I do this. Still hanging on to him, Shawn drew back again, threw another punch, and hit him