by Amy Sumida
When the cops showed up, they took a look at the kicked in door and my dad on the floor, and they seemed to be drowning in resignation. They took a statement from everyone, put my dad in handcuffs, and frog-marched him out to the cruiser where he still sat. Officer Michaels, Johnson’s partner, asked me if I needed to go to the hospital, and when I refused, he ran his hands over his bald head, as if he’d pull out his own hair. He stood short but stout. His shoulders set wide, and he obviously shaved his head. The kitchen lights reflected off his rich black skin, and he pinched his lips, visibly upset I wasn’t going to the hospital. He and Johnson convinced me to let the EMT’s scan me over, though.
The male EMT checked me out. He informed me my wrist wasn’t broken, but he wrapped it and gave me an ice pack. I could take the wrapping off in the morning, and if it hurt worse then, I needed to get it checked out by my doctor. Officer Johnson stayed with me while the female EMT took photos up close of my face, arms, legs, chest, stomach, and back. She said it would help keep dad in jail and now that someone knew about what happened at home, I couldn’t let it keep happening. Everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly until social services showed up.
“What do you mean there’s nothing you can do?” Johnson yelled at the scrawny older man who introduced himself as the social services representative.
“Well, she’s eighteen, isn’t she?” He yelled right back. “We don’t have a room for her anywhere, and even if we did, I couldn’t give it to her because she’s legally an adult. She can stay here.”
“Yeah,” Johnson scoffed, “until that deadbeat makes bail and comes back.”
“Well, she can go someplace else. There’s a women’s shelter across town.”
“You know they give priority to women with children in that shelter, and she’d never get in there this late.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.” The more I watched the guy talk, the more I compared him to a weasel. Tall and super skinny, almost painfully slim, with a dark brown comb-over and big glasses, he blinked his beady eyes at Officer Johnson. He constantly gazed at the door, as if praying for a chance to escape. Plus, he fidgeted.
Stetson walked up behind me and took my hand. “Ready to go?” His question caught me off guard.
“Go where?”
“Home.” He raised an eyebrow at me, obviously thinking I asked a dumb question.
“I can’t go home with you.”
“You can, and you will.” He declared imperiously, “Watch this.”
“Officer Johnson,” he called across the room, “Joey’s getting tired and wants to go. Can I take her home, now?”
Johnson shot her eyes to him and raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going to take her?”
“To my house. My dads and brothers are there, they’ll help take care of her.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the weasel of a social services guy took his opportunity to make a break for it while she focused on us. He beat feet out the door so fast, his comb-over came uncombed and flapped as he left. I almost laughed as it waved goodbye. She sighed and walked over to me. “Do you feel comfortable going to his house?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card, which she handed to me. “If you need anything, give me a call.”
I took the card, it seemed heavier than it should. Maybe the extra weight came from the reason she gave it to me. Stetson ushered me down the hall to my room, giving me a chance to pack a bag for the night. As I searched around, I noticed my bag was missing.
I turned to Stetson. “Have you see my backpack anywhere?”
“It’s in the truck. You left it at my place. I was bringing it back to you.”
“Oh.”
I snatched another bag out of my closet and packed something to sleep in and some clothes for tomorrow. I threw in my toothbrush kit and a hairbrush. I didn’t have the time or inclination to pack more, so I let Stetson lead me out to his truck.
“I can drive.” Pushing my hair behind my ear, I half-heartedly tried to step toward my car. Distracted momentarily by all the flashing lights of the cop cars, it took me a moment to notice my neighbors crowded together in someone’s driveway. Some in their bathrobes, others in street clothes, all of them gawking, and probably talking about the drama unfolding in front of them. I closed in on myself. Stetson wrapped me tighter in his arms and turned me toward his truck.
“Not tonight.” He opened the door for me and helped ease me up into his truck. It sat high off of the ground, but the quality of the truck made up for the inconvenience.
Black and shiny with a fresh wash, the older model truck seemed to be taken care of. After I slid onto the bench seat, he fastened my seatbelt for me and closed the door.
He seemed to be doing a lot of stuff for me, and I let him. This wasn’t like me; I took care of myself. I suppose it must be shock, but I liked him fussing over me, at least a little.
As he pulled out of my driveway, he put his phone up to his ear. “Hey Dad. I’m bringing Joey home with me.”
I snuck a peak at him from beneath my eyelashes, but he kept his eyes locked on the road as he spoke.
“Yeah, she’ll be staying.” Pause. “Okay, see you in a few.” He hung up.
I turned and gazed back toward my house, but he gently placed his hand over mine. I could make out the bruises forming on his knuckles in the light from the dash. “There’s a reason the windshield is bigger than the rear-view mirror. Don’t look back. From this second onward, focus on the future.”
I always assumed I’d been doing that for the past four years. Trying to get to college, get out of the house, and most importantly, away from Dad was my way of focusing on the future. As we drove in silence, I realized I hadn’t been focusing on the future. I spent my time focusing on the one thing I hoped would be my salvation. I don’t think I ever really expected to get out of there. Now, I actually had a future to look forward to. What in the world would I do with it?
Chapter Five
Settling In
Almost every light in the house blared into the darkness as we pulled into the drive. Before Stetson even put the car in park, the guys and their dads shot out the door. Matt made it to my door first. He opened it and froze when he got a good look at me as the interior lights came on.
He peered over my shoulder at Stetson. “He still alive?”
“For now.”
I huffed. “You’re not killing anyone. He’s in jail. That’s enough.”
Matt reached for me, but pulled back at the last minute. “I don’t know where I can touch you.”
I held out my right hand. “Can you help me down?”
He took my hand gently and carefully placed his other hand on my left elbow. He eased me down to the ground. As we stepped around the door, I glanced up at the guys who surrounded me.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I could only stare at them. Daniel stepped forward and rubbed my back gently. “Come on, girly, let’s get you inside.”
He guided me up the porch steps and into the house. He steered me into the living room and deposited me on the bend of the couch, then headed toward the kitchen. The guys surrounded me. Matt refused to leave my side; he sat to my right. Jaidon sat on my left, while Alex and Bishop sat on the coffee table in front of me. Stetson stood behind me, leaning over the couch and stroking my hair.
I still shook with shock. Mr. Keeler came in the room and handed Jaidon a blanket to wrap around my shoulders. Daniel followed him with a big mug overflowing with a mountain of whipped cream. “Hot chocolate.” He handed me the mug. “Because there’s almost nothing hot chocolate can’t make a little bit better.”
I took the mug with my good hand. Layers of flavor: cream, chocolate and then a hint of cinnamon coated my tongue as I sipped the drink. Extra sweet and creamy, it slid down my throat and warmed me through. I stared at my mug watching the whipped cream melt, not ready to get into it with everyone.
They gave me time. No one spoke, while they sat there, offering what comfort they could. I took in the sounds and smells of the room. A fire blazed in the fireplace on the other side of the room, smelling of real wood burning and not gas. The crackling of the fire and the shifting of the logs added a comfort all its own. Someone left the television tuned to a basketball game. The muffled voices of the announcers calling plays competed with the sounds of the fire.
Finally ready, I brought my eyes to Mr. Keeler and Daniel. “Thank you for letting me stay tonight.”
Mr. Keeler sat on the other side of Jaidon. He leaned forward and patted my knee. “Anytime, Joey.”
“So, I bet you guys want to know what happened, huh?”
“I think we’ve got a pretty good idea.” Matt said as he peered behind me at Stetson, causing Stetson to shift behind me. I peeked over my shoulder and saw him standing at attention now, fists clasped at his sides.
“When I got to Joey’s house, I could hear her screaming.” He shuddered. “I ran up to the closest door, and I could see her on the floor.” He paused to breathe in and out slowly. “Her dad kicked her and yelled crazy shit.” He reached out and rubbed some of my hair between his fingers. “I kicked the door in and lost it. I beat the crap out of her dad.” He paused to glance at his dads. “The cop said I might need to go into the station tomorrow.”
Daniel nodded.
“I made sure her dad didn’t go anywhere while we waited for the cops and the paramedics. They showed up and took care of Joey. Her dad got arrested.”
Everyone stayed quiet. I leaned back into the couch and locked eyes with Stetson. “Thank you.”
I could tell he knew I was thanking him for explaining what happened tonight. He nodded at me and patted my shoulder.
Mr. Keeler stood, and his eyes gentled as he held his hand out to me. “I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up. I’ll show you to the bathroom while Daniel heats you up some dinner.”
“Oh, but—” I started to say, but Daniel cut me off.
“Go on, take a shower. Trust me, you’ll feel better once you clean up.”
“Wait,” Bishop called and ran into the kitchen. He came out with a giant-sized plastic baggie. “For your arm, to keep the bandage dry.”
I took Mr. Keeler’s hand, and he helped me up. I reached to Bishop to take the bag. I couldn’t meet his eyes yet, so I put my forehead on his chest. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He gently ran his hands up and down my back.
“Come on, Joey,” Mr. Keeler called, and I followed him to the shower.
Daniel brought my bag up to the bathroom. I dug through it to find my pajamas. I turned the water on, giving it a second to heat up. I groaned and grimaced my way through getting undressed, then stepped into the shower. The heat from the water relaxed my tense muscles, but the pressure hurt some of my bruises.
I stood there for a minute, letting the water run over me. I leaned my head against the wall of the shower and watched the water run off me. Tinted pink, my eyes locked to it as it swirled down the drain.
For four years, this was my life. Watching my blood wash down the drain because my father lost his shit. No more! I’m done being his punching bag while breaking and sobbing for him and for the person we both lost. I lost my mom, too. I deserved to grieve for her, not to be subjected to the anger of a man who couldn’t cope. Stetson was right, no more looking back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m going to live and enjoy the life I have.
I reached for the shampoo and did the best I could considering the plastic baggie. It’s hard to load a loofah with one hand. I finally managed and soaped up my body, taking care with my bruises. When I finished and the water ran clear again, I turned off the shower and stepped out. I didn’t want to see the damage in the mirror, but I forced myself to study my reflection.
Two black eyes. Split lip. Bruises all over my chest and stomach, the colors blossomed as they wrapped around my side to my back. A purple impression of a boot decorated my thigh. When I put my weight on my leg, the pain shot through me, nearly causing me to drop. I knew from experience it would be sore but usable by tomorrow. The baggie over my wrapped wrist dripped water onto the bath mat. Removing it, I turned to get a glimpse of my back. Bruises danced in a random pattern on my skin, mapping out all my sore spots across my back, butt, and the backs of my legs. When I breathed in, my ribs hurt.
Stetson was right; Dad would kill me eventually. He might have tonight. I wanted to cover the bruises, hide behind clothes and pretend none of it happened. It was how I trained myself to survive. If I can’t see it, it never really happened. No more. I told myself I would be strong enough to face what I needed to do.
I got dressed in my pajamas, soft white cotton shorts and a light blue t-shirt, and brushed out my wet hair. I threw my dirty clothes into a separate pocket of my bag to clean them later. I went back down the stairs and into the living room. I moved a little better after the shower. I found the guys sitting on the couch, staring at the door. When I walked in, they all jumped to their feet.
Jaidon stepped toward me, but stopped, his eyes on the bruises showing beneath the neck of my top and the boot print on my lower thigh. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I couldn’t be anything but honest. “No, but I will be.”
Jaidon opened his arms, and I walked into them. He wrapped his arms around me carefully and laid his cheek against the top of my head. One of the guys came up behind me and wrapped us both in a hug. I smelled him. I really did like Stetson’s cologne. Bishop couldn’t be left out, so he wrapped the three of us up the best he could. Alex joined the group hug across from Bishop.
The guys all paused and glanced over at Matt. He stared at me, and I jerked my head to tell him to get over here. “What the hell,” he muttered and walked over, reaching his long arms around us all.
I stood there surrounded by all the big guys, knowing I should be scared, but I wasn’t. On some fundamental level, I knew they would never hurt me because they showed they would put themselves at risk to protect me. Since I would be strong going forward, they wouldn’t need to do this level of protecting again
“Can I sit?” The whispered question made the guys jump to action. Soon I found myself safely ensconced on the couch, leaning against Alex with my legs across Jaidon and my feet in Bishop’s lap. Matt parked himself on the other side of Bishop and Stetson sat on the other side of Alex.
“How long has this been going on?” Alex asked. His chest grumbled against my back as he asked the question.
“The hitting started four years ago after my mom died,” I said. “The anger issues happened when she got sick. The drinking is new, I think.”
“Four years?” Matt wondered. “And no one suspected anything?”
“A teacher saw some bruises on me my Freshman year. She told the principle, and they called my dad in for a meeting. He made them believe I hurt myself to get attention after my mom died.” I scoffed. “He told them he was going to take me to counseling.”
Bishop glared over at Stetson. “Why isn’t he dead?”
“She called me off.”
I turned to Stetson. “I don’t want you to kill him. I don’t want anything else to do with him. God, what am I going to do now? I need my savings for college.”
“Well, that’s a silly question,” Jaidon said patting my legs. “You’re going to stay with us.”
“Yeah, I know, and I appreciate you letting me sleep here tonight, but I can’t go back to that house.”
Bishop jumped in, “No one said you were. You’re staying here, for good, or at least until this stuff with your dad is settled.”
“I can’t stay here. You guys hardly know me, and I don’t know your parents. Mr. Keeler’s my teacher, I can’t live with him.”
Matt chuckled. “He’s our teacher, too, you know.” He moved over to the coffee table giving himself a better view of my face. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but you’re
special.” He leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on the lips, or at least the side of them that wasn’t split. “You’re staying, that’s final.”
Blushing, I muttered, “Well, I guess the great and powerful Matt has spoken.”
Alex burst into laughter. I hissed when it jarred my back. “The great and powerful...” He wheezed. “That’s perfect.”
Matt got his turn to blush.
Daniel and Mr. Keeler walked into the room. Mr. Keeler carried in a tray which held a bowl of soup, some crackers, and a glass of milk on it. He paused when he noticed how we’d arranged ourselves, but Daniel only raised an eyebrow and nudged him toward me. Mr. Keeler placed the tray on my lap, and then I got the uncomfortable experience of seven people staring at me while I ate.
I managed to get about half of it down before my eyes started to droop. Mr. Keeler took the tray and left the room. Daniel took my good hand and helped me to my feet. “Let me show you to your room.” He took me up the stairs. By the time we got to the top, I huffed a little, winded due to the sharp pain in my chest. He turned left and stopped at the first door on the right. He opened the door, and my eyes hit the biggest bed I’d ever seen. A soft gray comforter complimented by a mountain of light blue pillows graced the bed. The room itself was painted a light gray on three walls, but the wall behind the bed bore the same light blue as the accent on the bed. Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I jumped then winced.
Jaidon stepped in and put my bag down in front of the chest of drawers. Massive, it held four drawers and a mirror above it. To the side of the mirror, a television held a place of pride, mounted to the wall. A small writing desk stood sentinel on the wall opposite the bed, next to the closet door.
“This will be your room,” Daniel said. “Why don’t you get some rest?”
I nodded. He gave me a small smile as he slid out the door, closing it quietly behind him. No sound followed him as he went down the hallway. For such a big man, it surprised me he could move silently.
