Chapter One: Divorces and Forks

Chapter One: Divorces and Forks

I was dangerously close to losing my mind as I listened to the numbing sound of my parents fighting. What they probably didn't realize was just how thin the walls get when they shout at each other. I was mildly surprised they hadn't decided to get a divorce before this; it would have made everyone else's lives easier or at least mine. But think of what that would have done to my mother's image.

I could care less about the image, the preposterous things they said in certain company. The word divorce coming from the two of them was refreshing. It was like they were finally acknowledging a fact that had been part of their life for the last two years.

The fight themselves were easy enough to understand if you were involved in the world of upper class snobbery. In truth they really can't help but be this way, they were bred to think they are above other people. My mother, Bethany Davies, was the perfect stay at home mom. She made sure I was at school on time everyday, and picked up from school when I was done with any activities I was involved with.

My father was a partner at the Howard and Davies Law Firm in Hartford. He had been valedictorian of his high school class. Then he went to Harvard for pre-law then Law School. He was a law wizard; everything came naturally to him when he first started off as a defense attorney. He met Thomas Howard at a campaign event for Governor Roland. The two quickly realized how similar they were and the benefits that starting their own law firm would bring.

For Howard and Davies there was never that rocky beginning, only success after success. The Hartford offices were setup a year before I was born. As a partner my father was able to take the cases he really wanted. He worked mostly the estates of people with old money. On occasion he was involved with a murder trial or consulted by some kind of corporation, but the real money was working with money.

Jonathan Davies knew how to be liked, he could smile at you, with his big chocolate eyes and his clients felt they could trust him. How could they not trust the loving father, whose wife volunteered at the church in West Hartford and came into the city to help out at the shelters?

So for the first fifteen years of my life I was dragged to party after party, stuffed in frilly dress with matching patent leather Mary Janes. My hair always perfectly coifed, tight curls falling just the right way. The old men would sneak me sweets to make my smile, and their wives would scold them then fawning over how adorable I looked.

I would be lying if I said I hated every moment of it, there were certain appeals to the good life. I enjoyed the attention and the little gifts. I was spoiled as a child, but I somehow managed to keep my head as I grew older, not becoming one of those insolent brats that I had hated as child.

It was my imagination that saved me. I'm convinced of it. At home, safely hidden away from the world I could be whoever I wanted to be. In my own world I was able to play with other kids, get dirty and have the kind of fun that other kids have. It was my escape.

I was in my first year of high school when my whole world came crashing down around me. Thomas Howard was a very ambitious man, too ambitious. He started to embezzle money from accounts he was working on and was caught. He was convicted and sent to prison. The disgrace it brought to the firm was too much, no one would trust my father, most of his clients pulled out, only a few of the older ones stayed.

My father closed down the firm and went to work at one in town. My mother couldn't stand it. The name Davies was disgraced now; her husband was your average lawyer, not a partner at an esteemed law firm. Money was tighter, but not all that tight in the scheme of things. Bethany Davies was no longer able to go to the spa biweekly but once a month, and I was no longer forced to study piano with the overly grandiose Madame Bouchard.

After the big change was when the fights start. This wasn't the life my mother wanted, she felt ashamed. She blamed all of this misfortune on her husband, but I knew it wasn't his fault. The little changes didn't bother me, and I was convinced my mother was over reacting. We were still a step above most people, but for her the damage had been done.

The day my world changed was a seasonally warm day in November. I got a ride home from school with a friend because Bethany hadn't felt well for a while. When I got home she was crying on the floor of the living room, my father pacing back and forth, his face contorted in thought.

"What's wrong?" I asked, not expecting my mother to answer in her state, but I was surprised when she choked back a sob and opened her mouth.

"I'm pregnant!" I choked back a laugh that was forcing its way out. This situation couldn't get any worse. My mother was a horrible mother, hardly full with the maternal love it required to raise a child and I was convinced she had used it up raising me. I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. Now was not the time to start a fight.

It turned out she was three months pregnant, and for the next half a year I tried to occupy my time with studies in an attempt to block out the fight that broke out almost nightly. I was nearly done with my sophomore year when the baby came. My father and I had sat outside the room, neither of us wanted to become victim to the wrath that was my mother in labor.

Jonathan was nervous. He ran a hand through his thick black hair, his eyes closed. The waiting was killing him. At about 9:30 on Saturday, May 20 we were let into the room to see the bumbling baby boy. Only the sight that met us was quiet unexpected.

Bethany Davies looked gaunt; her petite body covered with unflattering hospital clothes. Her green eyes were filled with tears again, her blonde hair pulled back away from her face. Jonathan followed me into the room, worried about the babe.

The boy was in her arms, covered in a blue blanket. All of my mother's attention was on the child, but I couldn't quite interpret the emotions on her face. She shifted in the bed and I heard my father gasps from behind me.

The face of the baby was visible, and it was that of an angel. The bright green eyes were wide as it looked around the room. It was peaceful in the arms of its mother. I was not surprised by the green eyes, nor was my father, they mirror my own. The surprise came from the mop of hair that covered his head.

When I was born I was completely bald, but that was normal. I had a friend whose younger sister was born with wispy hair. And I had heard of children being born with hair, it wasn't unusual, but this. This time I couldn't help but laugh at.

The red haired babe looked at me and I could help but love the child. Anyone who looked that innocent was too cute for their own good. It was the face of an Irish cherub, the face of Bethany's personal yoga instructor.

"What have you done!" My father exclaimed before storming out of the room.

"Ha, you whore." I could have been more considerate, but my mother hardly considered my feelings so I returned the sentiment.

That's when the word divorce snuck into our life. My father filled for it that Monday. He was shocked by my mother's infidelity. Quickly I realized what was going to happen and before the summer started my father approached me about the split.

"You realize that a lot of things are going to change now right, Vittoria?" I nodded, how could it not change, the two could hardly stand to be in the same room as eachother. "And you have to decide whether or not you want to be with your mother or me.

I pretended to weigh the options in my head, but in reality I had already made my decision. There was no way I was staying with Bethany after what she did. How could you live with someone who betrayed the man she was suppose to love till death do them part. My father was the obvious option. He lived realistically, we were more in common them my mother, who tried to force me into being someone I was not. I knew the baby, Cormac, was going to be with Bethany, but there was nothing I could do to save him from living my childhood.

"I'm going with you." His shoulders seemed to relax and he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. I felt and intense amount of sympathy for the man in that moment, if I had said no it would mean his whole family had abandoned him. It was a moment of weakness and it made my love for him so much more. Impulsively I reached out for him and enclosed him in a tight hug.

At first his body was tense; hugs were not something a family like ours gave out. I gave him a second to recover from his shock, and then felt him hug back. It felt good to know that he cared, that he wasn't cold and wanted me to be with him.

"But you understand that if you come with me you have to move." I hadn't really considered this, it made sense, we couldn't all live in the house after the divorce. Hell, we could hardly all live in the house before it. He started talking about moving, but I tuned him out as I thought about it.

"…and I already got the house."

"Wait what house?" I had tuned him out and missed the whole thing.

"The one in Washington, I know your use to living near the city, but the town is small and an old friend lives there and it's where my mother was from."

"What town?"

"Forks."

A.N.

Alright guys, this is my new Twilight story. Hope y'all like it.

I'm only gonna put the disclaimer here, I do not own Twilight, or any of its characters (no matter how much I wish Edward was mine). I am not Stephenie Meyer, therefore i'm only borrowing these characters and make no profit form writing this.

Thank you. And Goodnight.