1 comment

Contemporary Sad Drama

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

1999

I come home from school to a dark house. It’s Friday, so there is no telling where everyone is. Callie could be at a neighbor’s house, with Mom, or in the woods for all I know. As usual, there is no note. Greg doesn’t normally come home until after 5:30 from work. He’s a mechanic at Sears Automotive, and he is always a little greasy and smells like motor oil and tires before he showers.

After moving in with us last fall after Mom’s…ordeal, it was nice to have someone home to balance her out. Or it would have been nice if that had actually happened. I guess it did for a while. Mom wanted to show her good side to win him over fully. This was right around the time that Mom and Dad’s divorce was finalized. She was awarded custody of us since Greg has a full time job, and Dad PCSed to Ft. Richardson, Alaska.

He moved a year ago, right after my 9th birthday. We’ve talked to him a lot, but it’s not the same. He may as well be deployed in Egypt again with how far we are from Alaska. He says we can visit, but it hasn’t happened yet. Tickets are expensive.

It didn’t take long before Mom not only fully reverted to her old ways, but for Greg to fall in step with her somewhere along the way. He’s nice enough. When he’s sober. They’re not abusive drunks to me or Callie, but they sure can cause a scene.

So here we are, almost a year later, and I find myself grateful for the quiet house. I’m sure it won’t be long until everyone gets home, and I hear them fighting. Maybe I’m wrong. It could also be a nice night with movies and popcorn. Those happen less frequently, so I cherish those nights.

I’m finishing my homework at the kitchen table an hour later when Mom comes home with Callie. When the backdoor opens I look up to see Callie coming in holding her sippy cup followed my Mom with two brown paper grocery bags. I perk up. It’s a little after 5 pm and Mom went to the store? I like to think she wouldn’t drink before driving Callie anywhere, especially since she got a DUI last year.

This is a good sign!

“Hey honey,” Mom says, putting the bags on the counter. “Did you have a good day at school?” I sneak a glance at her eyes. Clear, not heavy. Another good sign.

“Yep! I just finished my homework.” I close my binder and head over to her, messing Callie’s hair on my way. “Is this dinner stuff?” I smell a little beer on her breath, but she seems sober.

“Yeah, I thought we could make our own pizzas tonight. And I got you girls those ice cream drumsticks that you like.” She’s unloading several rolls of pizza dough, marinara, cheese, and lots of pizza toppings.

“Ohh that sounds fun!” I’m bouncing on my toes. It’s going to be a good night!

“And,” my mom pulls a Blockbuster video from the bag. “Callie picked out James and the Giant Peach for us to watch!”

I’m just about to float off on a cloud of happiness when Greg comes in the backdoor, dressed in his black and gray mechanics uniform. He takes off his hat and scratches his shaved head.

“Hey ladies,” he says. “Hi Greg,” Callie and say at the same time. Mom says nothing. I glance at her and she’s sorting items from the bag, so maybe she’s just concentrating.

“Let’s try that again. Hi Tawny,” Greg says louder, and she ignores him. I’m not sure what’s going on, but now I know she did hear him. She turns to us. “So, girls, you’re going to split a pizza, so pick your toppings out and one side will go to each of you.”

I glance at Greg, uncomfortable. I’m not sure what he did to earn the silent treatment. He huffs a dark laugh, shaking his head. “Gonna take a shower,” he says, heading to their room to get a change of clothes.

“Mom, are you mad at Greg?” I ask and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about it Lark, it’s a relationship issue, nothing you need to worry about.”

Easy for her to say. It’s not like they keep their arguments private late at night. Still. I’m determined to have a good night. Callie and I make the two pizzas with Mom, cheese for Callie and pepperoni with black olives for me. Mom puts pepperoni, tomatoes, and bell peppers on her and Greg’s. Gross.

Once Greg is out of the shower and food is done, we settle on the couch with pizza and start the movie. Mom and Greg are drinking beer and still not speaking, and I can feel the tension thick in the air.

Twenty minutes into the movie, and it’s settled. I do not like James and the Giant Peach. the insects creep me out, and the entire feel of the movie is dark and weird. I don’t like it, but I also don’t want to rock the boat. I force myself to sit and watch the entire movie, skin crawling the entire time. It’s 8 pm, Callie’s bedtime. Mom and Greg have drunk quite a bit at this point, and the glances are getting angrier and angrier.

“Hey, why don’t I put Callie down tonight? She and I are reading THE RAINBOW FISH.” Mom swallows her beer. “Perfect Lark, thank you.” She’s not slurring yet.

Once I finish THE RAINBOW FISH Callie says, “One more, pleeeease?” Now that I’m done reading, I hear tense voices in the living room and figure why not? I don’t want to be near those two when they’re fighting.

“Sure Calla Lily, let’s read OH THE PLACES YOU’LL GO.” By the time I’m finished Callie is out, and I can’t hear Mom and Greg, so I figure it’s safe to go to my room. Once in bed I can hear them talking on the front porch, but it’s not as loud as before. I turn on my lamp and start reading the newest Babysitter’s Club book that I checked out from my library.

I fall asleep after reading the first five chapters, after turning out my lamp.

***

“Get the fuck off me Tawny!”

I jerk awake. I look at my alarm clock. 2:03 AM. I blink my eyes a few times, thinking I was dreaming when something slams against my bedroom door, causing me to shriek. “Get the fuck off my dick, you’re hurting me!” Greg yells.

“Why the hell do you need it, huh, if you’re turning me down night after night! Who are you cheating on me with?!” Mom is screaming, her Other Mom voice and I know they’ve been up drinking all this time. They do this a lot on weekend nights.

“I’m not cheating on you, you crazy bitch, get your hands off me!” My entire body flashes red hot and then ice cold as panic floods my system. Another huge slam against my door and then I hear a loud slap and mom gasps. “You fucking bastard, you think you can hit me? I’ll fucking kill you!”

I can’t move, frozen to the bed like a deer in headlights. They’re fighting right up against my door, and I don’t understand. They’ve never hurt each other before that I know of. The most I’ve heard them do is scream and yell. Always late at night. I don’t know what to do. I hear the backdoor slam and then sobbing coming from Mom.

I feel tear drops fall onto my shaking fingers and realize that I’ve been crying too. I’m scared. I want my Dad. The crying fads away, and I think I hear mom close her bedroom door. I can hear because it’s right across from mine. I take a few deep breaths. My dad needs to know what’s happening. If he knows they’re hurting each other, he can come home from Alaska and take us back with him, someplace safe.

The thought soothes me, after years of dealing with my mother’s drinking and the fights and the slurred words and the hunger and the weariness of it all. A small smile comes to my face unbidden. My dad will take us with him. I’ll be free from this!

We don’t have a phone right now because Mom didn’t pay the bill. She told me after I tried to call Dad last week and let me know she would pay it once Greg got paid in a few weeks. It’s the middle of the night, and I’m afraid of the dark. But the only thing I can think to do is ride my bike down our long road until I hit the intersection. If I take a left, there is a pay phone in front of the general store.

I think of Callie, and I know that I have no choice. I put on my shoes in the dark and feel on my desk chair for my coat. It’s cold at night. Easing my door open, I listen for sounds. I can hear Mom crying behind her closed door. Once I make it to the kitchen, I peek out the kitchen window. Greg is sitting at the fire pit with his elbows on his knees and smoking. His head is bowed.

I copy Dad’s phone number from the list on the fridge and sneak out of the house through the front. There are no sounds coming when I pass Mom’s door, so I’m hoping she fell asleep. I slowly open the front door just enough to ease out and close it just as silently. After jogging over to my bicycle, I have to take a few minutes to calm my pounding heart.

I’ve never ridden my bicycle to town by myself, and definitely not at night. Our house is further away from the beginning of town square, and there are no streetlights until a ways up the road. Still, I have to do this. Mom will never let me ride by myself when the sun comes up. She says people will take me from her if they see me riding alone. I hope those people are asleep.

Steeling myself with a deep breath, I let myself out of the gate, and start pedaling. The night is silent except for the sounds of animals and insects. Crickets, raccoons, any of the animals that live in the deep woods that loam on either side of the two lane road. I think about all of the bigger animals in Colorado that can eat me.

Bears. Mountain Lions. Coyotes.

Now I’m shaking even more, my legs quivering like jelly while I force myself to keep pedaling as fast as I can. Little girls are not supposed to be alone outside in the dark. Although I don’t really feel like I’m a normal ten year old. Sometimes I feel ancient. I think about the things my fellow students talk about. Gymnastics after school, weekend trips to the zoo. A family vacation. Christmas in Vale, skiing.

I wonder how it feels to look forward to things like that, to go to school and know that your only responsibility is to learn. It’s hard not to feel bitter, but I try. Most days, I’m so bitter that no amount of trying will smother it out.

I stay on the right hand side of the road so that drivers will see me ahead of them, but I don’t pass any, and breathe a sigh of relief when I ride under the first streetlamps. I hear a stick brake to my right, and freeze, almost falling off my bike.

Only…it’s a small herd of female elk. They’re eating grass in front of the tree line, and they even have some babies with them. Based on their size they must be a few months old. This is the closest I’ve been to one. Normally I see them from the car windows. There is a certain kind of graceful peace about them. The graze contentedly, slowly stepping over to new patches of grass. One of the babies lifts it’s head, looking me directly in my eyes. I’m mesmerized. We stare into each other’s eyes for who knows how long, before she goes back to eating her midnight snack.

I watch in silence for a few minutes before I’m aware of an eerie feeling crawling up my spine. My moment of peace is broken.

I feel like I’m being watched, and I don’t stick around to find out what’s peering at me from the dark. Pedaling as fast as I can, I feel a huge sense of gratitude when I finally make it to the payphone. It takes a few minutes for my breathing to calm down enough to speak, for my hands to stop shaking so I can make the call.

I put a bunch of quarters in the machine and dial the 907 number. Alaska is two hours behind us, so I’m not sure if he’ll pick up. Dad goes to bed really early since he wakes up before dawn for work.

The phone rings over and over, the ache in my stomach worsening with each unanswered ring, until he finally picks up. “Do you know what time it is?” he barks into the phone. “Who is this?”

I hesitate. “It’s Lark, Daddy.”

“Lark? Is everything okay? What’s going on, it’s almost three in the morning in Colorado! Where are you calling from?” I start crying again. “I’m calling from the payphone in front of Sam’s General, I had to come call you, our phone is turned off. Mom and Greg had a bad fight, and they were hurting each other, right in front of my door! They’re drinking all the time and fighting, but they hurt each other, and I’m scared. Can you come get us?” I beg. In my mind, he’s the adult. He can take us away from here. I know it.

He sighs. “Lark…it’s not that simple. Are they okay? Are they at the house still, do they know you left? How did they hurt each other?”

I hesitate. I don’t want to repeat the words they said, especially not to my dad. They embarrass me and I still don’t fully understand.

“Um, I heard him say she was hurting him, and I heard a loud slap. They were screaming at each other, and she went to her room, and he went outside, so I snuck out the front. It was really scary Daddy. I didn’t know what to do so I called you.” I’m starting to feel like I may have overreacted based on his reactions and now I feel like a stupid little kid.

“Honey,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, I know you’re scared. That’s not okay, and I will talk to your mother as soon as I can, okay? Things will be okay. It sounds like they drank too much and had a bad argument. Do me a favor? Go home tonight and tomorrow I want you to visit Mrs. Sheila or Ms. Donna and give me a call. I’ll be here all day. Tell me how the morning goes and if they’re still drinking and fighting okay? I’ll have whoever you go to bring a message to your mom if it’s not good news.”

“Okay,” I say, disappointed. I wanted him to say that we could come live with him. I should have known better. “I’m sorry I can’t do more, honey. Not from up here, at least right at this moment.”

“It’s okay Daddy. I love you; I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I love you too Lark, tell Callie the same and give her a kiss from me.”

“I will.”

We hang up and I travel the long road home, no longer concerned with sounds in the night. I make it back in a daze and slip back into the house. No one stirs or hears me let myself back into my room. I stay awake for the rest of the night thinking about things like custody and plane rides and movie nights where there’s no drinking and no fighting, and good nights are the rule instead of the exception.

And I know that I’ll never be free from my mother and her addiction. I’m stuck here and I always will be. She’ll be with me always, maybe even when I’m grown.

The next morning Mom and Greg act perfectly normal to each other.

I don’t call my dad back.

November 10, 2022 19:06

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

1 comment

Tamarin Butcher
16:11 Nov 17, 2022

Such a vivid exploration of the effects of domestic violence on the children involved! Poor kiddo, my heart really broke for her as I read. Thanks for writing!

Reply

Show 0 replies
RBE | We made a writing app for you (photo) | 2023-02

We made a writing app for you

Yes, you! Write. Format. Export for ebook and print. 100% free, always.