After the Before Read online

  At least that’s what I thought, at first.

  Come to find out, Mr. Navarro had a blood alcohol level three times the legal limit. Apparently, he was stressing out over the current layoffs at work, forgot about picking Marisol up from Volleyball practice, and got behind the wheel to pick her up instead of calling us to give her a ride.

  My entire life knowing the Navarro family, I had never seen Antonio Navarro drink − Not once. Because of his decision to drink and drive, two families lost their loved ones that night.

  The police said he made some wrong turns and was circling around to head back toward his house when he ran a stop sign, plowing into our car going fifty miles an hour; twenty-five over the legal speed limit.

  I couldn’t imagine what Marisol was thinking, or what was going on inside that car before he crashed into us. Had she tried to stop him? Had she tried to drive for him? Did she even realize what was wrong until it was too late to stop it? I couldn’t imagine her letting him drive if she knew he was impaired, but that is just one of many things I would never know, or be able to ask her.

  I missed the rest of my sophomore and my entire junior year, due to injury, rehabilitation, and depression. I couldn’t fathom seeing people, let alone talk to anyone. Physical therapy took a big chunk out of the year because I had to learn to reuse my leg after it was out of the cast. Lucky for me, it was a ‘clean break.’

  I wanted to do nothing at all, but my mother wouldn’t have it. She hired a tutor and I was home schooled. That was one outcome that I was thankful for; she did care that I would graduate on time… so I could get into college, and get out of her sight.

  Now the Navarro family was down to two members, Mrs. Navarro, and Alex… and they were broke. Their bank foreclosed on their house, forcing them to move to the rougher side of town. My mom forbade me to speak to that family as soon as I returned home from the hospital, calling them every horrible name in the book. Mutual friends on Facebook claimed that Alex had went wild, by getting into fights, getting thrown into jail, and running with a gang after his sister and father died.

  Apparently, Alex had joined up with a gang of bikers, running as one of their recruiters – getting young members to pledge themselves to become future Prospects. The most recent story was that he had proven himself to the leader of the gang, which elevated his standings and allowed him free reign to lead the recruits. I have not seen or spoken to Alex since a few days before the accident… that was almost two years ago.

  My doped up, alcoholic mom said that I needed to grow up and put the accident behind me now; that it was time for me to move on from sulking in my room and avoiding the future, even though she clearly stayed frozen in time.

  She forced me to start my senior year back at Oakboro High School. In many ways, I was excited about returning, yet I couldn’t help but think of how my brother and I looked forward to our senior year. Although I would have to go without him, the urge to do him proud inspired me. The senior trip was going to be at the beginning of the school year instead of the end, and all the seniors were eligible to go. The school had decided to pay for each person themselves, with the help of fundraisers and donations throughout the summer.

  Our destination… Hawaii!

  So here I am, in my After, waiting to start my senior year in two weeks. Even though it has been almost two years since the accident, each day is still a struggle. With my brother gone, it feels like phantom pains from a lost limb that are no longer a part of me, but I still experience the aches. His emotions that were so tied into my own are gone, and it’s as if half of me is missing − half of me died with him.

  I still have my dad. I love talking to him and spending time with him, but we aren’t able to hold any kind of conversation. He can only say my name, yes, and no. Speaking experts didn’t really offer much help, so we came up with our own way of communicating; one blink for yes, and two blinks for no. It’s not very original, but there isn’t much else we can do. The most important thing is that he’s here, and he remains the only person my mom controls her mood swings around. She continues to curse and scream at me every day as long as Dad is out of earshot. I don’t understand why that is, since he, unfortunately, cannot do or say anything to her.

  So this is it… this is my life now, wrapped in a not so pretty little package for everyone to dissect.

  Chapter Three

  Alex

  The past couple years have been a living hell for me. I lost almost everyone I loved and cared for… I lost mi padre, mi Hermana, and my best friend, Jace. Mi Madre, my mother, is the only person I have left, and in the last year, I have even distanced myself from her.

  If anyone told me in less than two years’ time I would go from an average high school kid to recruiting for a biker gang, I would have called bullshit. I have been in jail more than five times, and I have beat the shit out of everyone who has pissed me off. If someone told me two years ago that this would be my life now, I wouldn’t have believed them.

  Nevertheless, this is my life. I lead the recruits of the Infiernos Guerreros, Hells Warriors. Most of the members in my recruiting gang are my age and attend school with me, that is if, and when, I decide to show up. In my neighborhood, you join a gang and they take care of you. They also taught me to take care of myself, too.

  Getting my ass jumped to get in was easy since I knew all the previous recruits, but I’m able to take that kind of pain, and they all know it. Once we lowly recruits prove our worth, we will be official. I had never even considered being in any gang until the accident, which was the worst night of my life. It’s not only because I lost my loved ones, but I suffered like hell. I lost too much that night that I could never get back.

  After a week of going through the emotions of grieving, I found myself stuck at anger. For months I couldn’t get myself past that stage; picking fights with anyone and everyone for no reason. The older recruits took notice of me, and began inviting me to hang with them.

  Mi Madre was beyond pissed off at me, but once she learned we had to move due to the bank foreclosing on our house, her complaints dwindled about me into nothingness; she knew what kind of neighborhood we were moving to, and a resident either belonged to a gang, or became their target.

  Lying in a cell at the Oakboro County Jail gives me too much time to think. My mind often wanders to reliving that night of the accident; why was dad drinking and driving? Why did I lose all the people in my life that I loved the most? Why didn’t Jasmine, Jace’s sister, ever come to see us after the accident?

  Mi Madre told me about her visit at the hospital where Margret, Jasmine and Jace’s mom, verbally assaulted her. I knew how Margret treated the twins… Jace was gold and Jasmine was dirt. I never understood how she could love one more than the other; treating one with so much love, and the other, well, showing no emotion at all, unless you consider verbal abuse an emotion. I guess Margret warned Jasmine about never speaking to us again, but it never occurred to me that Jasmine would actually listen to her. Plus, we were friends for more than ten years, and I thought that we could grieve together. Instead, the blame ruined our long friendship, and I guess I was okay with that as much as I could be.

  The vibrations begin while I’m lying on my bunk as my cellmate snores so loud below me, that the restlessness sets in and seizes me. The overwhelming urge to release my anger about what happened to me, to Jasmine − to both of our families − makes me want to kick someone’s ass. The anger floods my body, goes through my veins, and up to my brain, where it consumes my whole being.

  Who better to kick the crap out of than the snoring pendejo below me?

  I sit up, my body seemingly possessed, and jump down off the bunk. My regulated flip flops smack the floor loud enough to wake my bunkmate out of his stupor. His groggy eyes have less than a second to register my fist before it slams into his face.

  A loud crack ricochets off the small cell walls as blood spurts and gushes down Mr. Naptime’s face. His head snaps back, the full brunt of the
blow cushioned by his pillow.

  After a few shakes of his head, he springs up at me, just as I anticipated. I give him time to engage me before I swing again, because that’s what I want… I want someone to fight back. Fighting is my way to experience physical pain instead of what actually consumes me. I can escape from the emotional pain through blow after blow.

  His fist connects with my jaw and my teeth clank together. I re-engage him and punch him in the gut. He doubles over in pain and a gagging noise bursts past his lips, almost as if he’s going to throw up. Ignorant to his lethargy, I plant another punch to his face, finally bringing him down to the ground, writhing in pain.

  I stand over him, my chest heaving with my ragged breaths. Blood covers my clenched knuckles and shirt as I stare down at my bloody cellmate and feel nothing… just emptiness. ‘Is this really all I am now? Am I this hollow?’

  Sounds start to impede my eardrums, announcing guards running to our cell. I turn to the wall, put my hands out flat, and spread my legs wide. Without hesitation, they grab and slam me to the ground, which causes more damage to my face than the pendejo I just punched.

  They cuff my hands behind my back, haul me out of the cell, and slam me into a lockdown chair. Taking little care in strapping down my chest, thighs, ankles, and wrists, they shove a netted hood over my head, which is cinched closed around my neck. The guards wheel me down the hall and place me in an unoccupied cell, like I’m a fucking child needing a time out.

  Hysterical laughter bubbles up my throat at the thought of all this; I’m incapable of stopping myself, sounding like a wild hyena. I earned this time out… I earned it.

  An undetermined amount of time tics by… hours, maybe even days. All I do is sit in the corner, and I couldn’t care less. Finally, George, the guard, comes to let me out and back into my cell.

  “Hey,” he says. His Mexican accent reminds me of my father, and it makes me want to lose control all over again.

  I dip down my chin in acknowledgment.

  “You really messed that guy up, Alejandro,” he informs me.

  I remain silent.

  “He’s gonna be in the hospital wing for a while…” He’s watching me to see if I react. I know my cellmate didn’t deserve the beat down, but fighting is a way to warn others not to fuck with me − distancing me from everyone around. My lips remain sealed, face hard, and I make sure that any remorse eating at me stays hidden.

  “Assault while in jail is a more serious charge than the assault you’re in here for. The victim outside has refused to say anything against you because you’re in a gang… However, the officers here have a tape of you punching your cellmate. He doesn’t have to press charges because the state will do it for him.” He watches me again for any reaction.

  My adrenaline is in overdrive. As badass as I want people to think I am, I know that getting locked away would become another kind of hell.

  “What’s going to happen now?” I ask him, trying to act like it’s only out of curiosity.

  “The judge has moved your court date up to next week.”

  ‘Oh, shit that can’t be good.’

  “You’re looking at about five years, hombre.” He informs me.

  If I speak, my shaking voice will give away how panicked I really am, so I don’t say anything. All I know for sure is that mi Madre is going to kill me.

  Chapter Four

  Jasmine

  One week before school, my grandma calls me to come visit her at the retirement home. I wish I could bring Dad to visit her, but traveling for him is too difficult. I tell her that I will meet her for lunch, and even bring Chinese food… her favorite.

  I brought Dad into the kitchen so I could spend some time with him before leaving to visit grandma when mom decides to stumble in. From the look on her face, I know that she’s heard my conversation with Dad.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she slurs at me.

  I look to my dad, wishing she would avoid being mean in front of him. I can handle the barrage of insults she throws at me daily, but he shouldn’t have to deal with this − he already has to deal with so much.

  “I’m going to see Grandma,” I tell her in a monotone voice, knowing she already knows.

  “You can’t go. You have things to do,” she spits out with venom.

  “Like what?” I challenge her.

  The question remains unanswered for several moments.

  “You will do what I tell you.”

  “Mom, I’m going to see Grandma whether you like it or not,” I tell her, rinsing out the dishes I used.

  “No, you will not.” Her voice grows louder as she grabs my bad arm and jerks it with force. My wrist bones are still sore, so when she snatches at my arm, the glass bowl slips from my fingers, falling to the floor – shattering into pieces.

  “AAHHH.” I yell as I pull my wrist free, trying to rub the pain away.

  I glance at my dad, whose eyes look pissed off and outraged. I know that he wants to help, but the only thing he could do that would help would be to divorce her. They have seemed to despise each other for so long, I’m surprised he didn’t do it years ago.

  “Now see what you’ve done! Clean up this mess,” she yells as she storms out.

  He gives me a sympathetic look for her behavior, which I choose to ignore. Instead, I turn to clean up the glass.

  I am hardly able to contain my urgency to get out of this house for a few hours, and I couldn’t be more ecstatic about school − I will be gone most of the day; away from her.

  I reach for the round glass pendent I wear around my neck. The pendant contains swirls of green and gold flecks from Jace’s ashes. I wrap my fingers around it, letting my thumb caress the soft surface as I send a silent wish to him.

  ‘I wish you were still here with me.’

  My throat begins to tighten and I drop the pendent before I burst into tears.

  “Dad, I’m taking off to Grandmas now. I love you, and I promise to be back soon to tell you all about the visit.” Then I kiss his forehead. He blinks once, telling me ‘I love you.’ I give him a smile, then I am out the door in two seconds flat.

  The drive to Grandma’s is calming. Green Hill Retirement Home is in the country, surrounded by pine trees and the smell of the forest. When I arrive, Grandma is waiting for me in the lobby; a gigantic grin spreads across her face, but her smile slips when she takes me in.

  “What’s the matter darling?” Her voice is soothing and concerned.

  I force a smile on my face and say, “Nothing. I come bearing gifts.” I hold the bag of Chinese food up, changing the subject.

  My grandma understands me well enough to know that I would rather talk about something else than what is bothering me, so she nods and leads the way into the cafeteria. She chooses our usual spot next to a pair of huge windows that open like suicide doors, letting in the clean mountain air. This is one of the benefits of living in Oakboro, Oregon − There are mountains and pines everywhere you look. The scenery here is breathtaking, and the smells are clean and rejuvenating.

  I sit down and pull out our rice and almond chicken, which is what we both love, and I place a bottled water next to her food.

  “What, no soda?” she asks.

  I smile at her. She is one of the only people who can actually get a real smile out of me these days.

  “You know you shouldn’t be drinking soda.”

  She waves me off with a flick of her wrist and pops open her water. I open mine as well, taking a drink to hide the smirk on my face.

  “So, why were you so upset when you came in, Jazzy?” This is her nickname for me, and I only tolerate the name from her, since she’s called me by it for as long as I can remember. She reads me like a book and knows what my problem is. “So, I assume it’s your mother again, dear?” I nod.

  “Why doesn’t dad just get a divorce? I know he used to love her, but I know he doesn’t anymore.” I pause for a minute. She must sense that I’m not finished, so she waits fo
r me to continue, uninterrupted.

  “She’s so mean, and it’s every day Grandma, not just occasionally. I don’t understand why she dislikes me so much. What have I ever done to her to make her so hateful toward me?” Had I had this conversation with her before the accident, I would be a blubbering mess by this point, but now, my emotions are locked down like Fort Knox.

  She shakes her head. “Don’t blame yourself darling, you are at no fault. She is just crazy with her own self-worth issues, taking them out on you because there is no one else for her to do it to. I mean, how can she not love a face like this?” She reaches over and touches my cheek. “She would have to be crazy.”

  A sad smile stretches across my lips. I know she’s right, yet I can’t help but wish that my mom loved me as a mother should… ‘Just like she loved Jace.’

  “I love you too, Grandma.” I tell her slowly, wanting her to hear the words. You never know how much time you have with each person in your life, so I’m making it count.

  “Listen, Jazzy,” she says in a rather cheery voice. “I have a gift for you. I don’t want you to tell your mother – she’ll take it away before you have a chance to use it.”

  She hands me an envelope.

  I open it and peer inside to see stacks of bills staring back at me.

  “Grandma, I can’t take this.” I look at her with wild eyes. Why on earth would she give me this kind of money?

  She laughs, shaking herself around in her chair. “Of course I can. It’s my money, dear.”