by Randis, K. L
“No!” Tears fell into my lap. “I saw it on TV,” I lied. I couldn’t let her read my journals at home. “I watched a show I shouldn’t have watched. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Mom, I didn’t mean to get Alyssa in trouble.”
“Alyssa’s not in trouble.” Mom flipped the journal shut. “YOU are!”
“Okay, all right, let’s just-” Alyssa’s mom motioned for my mom to sit down.
“You listen to me.” Mom lowered her voice, her cigarette smell flared in my nostrils as she shook her finger inches from my face. “If I ever, ever see you draw or write things like this again, I swear to God…”
Her threats were promising. She would call all the family, all the neighbors about the bad thing I did. She would maybe even call the school, tell them I was a horrible child who drew bad things in journals, and that I shouldn’t be allowed to go there anymore.
I would have to spend all my time at home, with her and Dad, not allowed to write in journals, always labeled the bad child. My brothers and sister would be allowed outside to play and allowed to read books. Not me, though. I would be banned from those things for being the bad child that drew pictures of penises and sex in a journal that wasn’t mine.
Meredith stood to coax Mom into the kitchen for tea. Mom’s tears overpowered my own and Meredith tried to console her by putting her hand on her shoulder and shaking her head in a reassuring motion. “I can’t take it anymore, these kids,” Mom ranted. “Why would she embarrass me like this? Why do I even bother?”
“I won’t write those bad things anymore,” I said, though no one heard me. They had already walked into the kitchen leaving me alone. The journal was flung into the closest garbage can. My sleeve served as a makeshift tissue as I whole heartedly vowed, “I won’t ever write about these things again Mom. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Chapter Four
“Mom told me what she found in Alyssa’s journal yesterday,” Dad said. He cleared his throat and craned his neck to see if mom was standing in the kitchen. She wasn’t. “I don’t know why you would need to draw the things you did.”
Yes, you do.
“But I know you’re a smart girl, and something like that won’t ever happen again. Right?”
We sat there in silence. I wished Thomas would burst through his bedroom door and ask for cereal. Or that the dog would come to the back door wanting to be let back in. His voice hissed the last part, Right?
How can he sit across the table from me drinking his coffee like that? My fingers pinched the skin between my eyes as I strained to figure out if I was awake or still asleep. Is he really saying this to me right now?
“Good,” he said, accepting my silence as confirmation. “In that case, I think we need to talk about your bedtime being changed.”
“Dad, I said I was sorry.” I spoke carefully, pleading.
He held up his hand. “I think a girl your age deserves to go to bed at… I don’t know, nine o’clock every night. No more eight thirty. What do you think?”
I hated the smile that spread across my face. A half an hour increase in bed time meant a less amount of time I had to spend in my bedroom at night.
“Aunt Jean and Uncle Bruce are here,” Adam screamed, running from around the corner and almost into the kitchen table.
“Shut up, I don’t need you running around here like a god damn wild animal.” Dad pushed his newspaper away and stood up to adjust his bathrobe. “Sure, just stop on in anytime,” he mumbled. “Molly, get in here!”
Mom appeared from the bathroom as she threw her head back and popped two white pills into her mouth. I had trouble swallowing medicine when I was sick but Mom could swallow multiple pills and without water.
“What, Dave, whatdya want?” Her words sloshed around. “I’m right down the hall, not across the street.” The comment made me cringe as I waited for Dad to take offense to it but two heavy knocks on the front door diffused the moment.
“I’ll get it,” I said, sprinting towards the door.
“Brooke! Honey here, take these bags.” Aunt Jean handed me two grocery bags of food. “Go go, you know where they belong. Molly! How are you, so good to see you.”
The yellow plastic brushed along the ground as I fought with the weight to get it into the kitchen in one piece. Adam and I spent the next fifteen minutes dragging yellow bags inside as Mom put on tea and Dad changed out of his robe. I loved visitors.
“Dave, how’s work, keeping you busy?” Uncle Bruce outstretched a firm hand.
“Doesn’t need to. I got four kids at home to do that for me.”
Uncle Bruce smirked at the comment. “Yea, Jean is about ready to pop any day now.” He rubbed his middle section. “Can’t wait to meet the little guy.”
“Mmm.” Dad chugged the last of his coffee.
“I can’t believe how tall Adam is getting,” Uncle Bruce continued. “Where’s Thomas? I must have missed him when we walked in.”
Dad didn’t even try and guess. “Brooke, go find Thomas.”
A statement more than a demand. Thomas had spent most of his day out front yesterday poking ants with a safety pin, so I had a pretty good idea of where he was. I left the chatter of the kitchen and pushed open the front door.
Alyssa was walking up to the house as I let my eyes adjust to the sun. We had a bet going on how many people were living in the blue house three houses from mine. Last time we counted there had been over twelve people. This time I was betting on at least fifteen and Alyssa thought maybe there would be eighteen.
“Spanish families live like that, all of them together,” Alyssa taught me, “This way they have more money and more people to do the chores.”
“Ohhh,” I nodded. “Maybe that’s what my parents are trying to do, keep having kids, make a Spanish family.”
“Maybe,” Alyssa said. “Aren’t you Irish?”
Slurpee’s from 7-11 were riding on our bet, and I was expecting an update. My quest to find Thomas was forgotten and we paid little mind to the police car that pulled up in front of the house. Then I noticed that Thomas was sitting teary eyed in the back.
The police man was tall and brushed the sweat off his forehead as he went around to the passenger side to fetch him. He opened the door and said something in a lowered voice. My throat tightened.
“Is that..?” Alyssa asked, staring through the summer sun. She strained her neck to get a better view of the kid sitting in the back seat. A piece of hair fell from her ponytail and she tucked it behind her ear, her eyes never leaving the street.
“I think…Ohhhh no, that’s THOMAS!” Alyssa gushed, wide eyes shooting towards me.
“Something’s wrong,” I said, heading toward the house to get mom.
“Yea something’s wrong. Thomas is in the back of a cop car. Where’s his bike? Didn’t he ride his bike to 7-11? Hey, where you goin’?” Alyssa’s voice trailed behind me.
I had already reached the front door and was pulling it open before I could answer. I knew that look on Thomas’ face. He wasn’t in trouble, I knew. Something had happened to him. I knew when Adam was about to cry, and when Kat was scared. The amount of time I spent with them, watching over them, it was like I could read their minds now.
I spared Mom the rush of panic that was bound to set in and gushed out before she could process what I said, “Thomas is outside in a cop car! Come quick!”
Panicked voices, mainly Aunt Jean’s, followed behind me as I turned on my heel to head back outside. “What? Thomas? What are you talking about?” The only footsteps I didn’t hear following were Dad’s.
I opened the front door and almost fell off the front step in a flurry of curiosity. If I stood far enough on the edge of the house I would be able to listen to their conversation without Mom telling me to go inside. I chose a place under the boy’s bedroom window and sat on the ground, putting my finger to my lips in a non-verbal cue for Alyssa to keep quiet.
Thomas had been crying. Luminous trails where tears slid down his dirty face refle
cted in the sun. Mom had buzzed his hair yesterday and his white scalp was bright against the sun. At eight years old he was only a year younger but he had at least fifteen pounds on me. He kept his head down but the second he saw Mom he broke down into a fit of sobbing.
“Are you okay? Thomas what happened?”
“Ma’m, are you this boy’s mother?” The officer stood in front of my mom, nodding his heads in Thomas’ direction.
“What’s going on?” Mom demanded. Her eyes revealed no room for patience.
“Ma’m a clerk from the 7-11 called 9-1-1 because they saw your son get assaulted. Two teenage boys held a knife to your son’s throat for his bike. They got away on it, and a good Samaritan tried to follow them, but they had a truck on the corner and they threw the bike into the back and took off.”
I turned towards Alyssa and her eyes were as wide as mine.
“I’m sorry.” Thomas sobbed while wringing his hands in his shirt. “I’m sorry they took my bike, Mom.”
“How many times have I told you that you go to the store with someone? See what happens? You think you can just go anywhere? Well, you CAN’T.”
At this point several neighbors had gathered outside. They pretended to water dead flowers on their porch or sweep, anything to have a reason to be outside at just this moment.
“Ma’m,” the policeman tried again, “Your son was just assaulted. Would you like us to escort you to the hospital, have him checked out?”
My mom bent over and did a sweep of Thomas’ neck. “You said they held a knife to his throat?” she asked, looking for a wound.
“Yes Ma’m, a pocket knife is what the clerk said.”
“Well, he looks fine. Go on get inside. And wash your face.”
Thomas pushed his way through blurry tears and rushed inside. The police officer lingered.
“The store doesn’t have security cameras, so we’re going to take what testimony we have from witnesses and see what we can do about getting his bike back. We at least have a description of the truck and a partial license plate, but I wouldn’t be surprised if nothing pulled up. This kind of thing is happening more and more around here.”
“Thank you,” Mom said, uninterested. “He just got that bike, so if it’s not found then maybe it’ll teach him a lesson.”
The officer looked over at Alyssa and I sitting off to the side. His eyes softened. “We’ll let you know what turns up, Ma’m. I’m sorry for the scare.”
Mom pulled out a cigarette as the officer made his way back to the car. The mumbling under her breath had grown to a loud whisper by the time he turned his key in the ignition, and as he drove away Mom finally noticed the hoards of neighbors standing around watching.
She puffed a cigarette and exhaled a steady stream of smoke. With that exhale came a round of tears that let the neighbors know that something bad had happened. Poor Molly, poor Molly and her troubles. So many kids, so much stress.
Mom crushed her butt into the concrete, wiped away a tear, and made her way into the house to give Thomas hell.
Chapter Five
“We’re running away,” I told Kat. She watched me stuff two shirts into a suitcase. “We’re going to Grandma’s house. I know the way, we can walk there. I have two suitcases. This one is yours.” I pointed. “Put some pajamas in there, no toys. We’ll sneak out the window after everyone goes to bed. Okay?”
Kat nodded and walked over to her dresser to start packing.
I was going to be twelve that summer. I finished packing my suitcase while I remembered when Mom got her first back surgery. I was seven then, and Dad started to tuck us in at night since Mom couldn’t do that anymore. She couldn’t do much with rods and screws in her back. Always a heavy sleeper, my sister would be tenderly snoring after a few minutes of him rubbing her back and I would try not to fidget while I waited for my turn.
I don’t remember how long it usually took me to fall asleep. I don’t remember when my back rubs turned into chest rubs, and then stomach rubs. By the time Dad was spending close to forty five minutes in my room at bedtime I would pretend to be asleep, squeezing my eyes shut so hard I would see white. You’re sleeping, I convinced myself, and everything is fine because you’re sleeping. Everything is fine.
I couldn’t call out. Mom was passed out from her pills. Kat could sleep through an earthquake. The boy’s bedroom was on the other side of the house. There was no one.
Kat was a heavier sleeper, Dad knew this. He had spent a long time on the side of my bed one night. That time it had hurt, and I held my stomach when he got up to walk away afraid I would throw up. He crept to the other end of the bed, though, and sat down next to Kat.
Just as he was about to reach over I jumped up kicking my legs and using my arms to hit the water bed.
As the bed rolled and shook, Kat startled awake and started crying. Dad bent down and tried to console her. His eyes struggled to see me through the shadows of the room but when they met with mine they threatened him in silence.
Don’t you dare touch her. My pajamas were soaked with my tears as my chest heaved. Don’t you dare lay a single finger on her. I’ll tell. Try me.
My message was clear, and after Kat’s cries subdued, he walked to the bedroom door and crept out without saying a word. I laid back down and put my foot against my sister’s leg so I could monitor if there was any movement, as I always did. I’ll protect you, baby sister, I’ll protect you.
Mom couldn’t protect us anymore. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. Those white pills did too much; she was in too much pain to notice. That night I realized the new role I took in my family. I didn’t want it. It became an unspoken rule from that point on. If I didn’t fight, if I kept his secret, he wouldn’t hurt Kat. The idea was that as long as I knew he was hurting me, he couldn’t be hurting her. It was the only way I knew how to protect her. I had to protect her.
When bedtime rituals became painful, I made the decision to run away. Kat would have to come with me. I thought about my brothers, but noticed that after Dad would spend the time in my room the night before, he would take it easier on them the following day with his physical attacks. He roared a little less. I figured if Kat and I were gone, maybe he would be nicer to them. Then he wouldn’t be hurting me or my brothers. It had to work.
Adam and Thomas seemed calmer then too since they didn’t have to run from his outstretched hand or his belt. I kept the harmony and the balance. I shivered watching Kat close the latches on her suitcase. I didn’t want to think about the next morning when everyone woke up to see us gone. I hoped Adam and Thomas would protect each other if Dad tried to hurt them. Maybe they would run away too.
Mom had come home that afternoon from a doctor’s appointment. She was scheduled to go in for another back surgery, but they would need to wait because she had something called Shingles. She was talking on the phone in the kitchen and I heard her saying that it was something deadly. It was my deciding factor. If Mom was going to die, I had to get out before she did. I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t imagine living in that house with only Dad.
We had cereal for dinner that night since it was in the middle of the week. “Friday’s are paydays and Saturdays are food shopping days, if there’s enough money after Dad pays the bills,” Mom would say.
Kat and I were quiet as we exchanged knowing glances across the table. This time tomorrow, we’ll be at Grandma’s, eating chicken or mashed potatoes. Maybe both. Dad was working the overnight shifts this week. I lived for overnight weeks. Soon Kat and I turned out the lights in our bedroom, we kissed Mom goodnight. We waited.
At ten o’clock I slid my body off the bed like a snake and sat on the floor to put on my sneakers. I listened. The house was quiet. I moved to the edge of Kat’s side of the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, we gotta go. Put your shoes on,” I whispered.
I sat on the floor and pulled the suitcases out from under the bed. They were heavy but it wasn’t too long of a walk. Maybe twenty miles, or thirty
. It only took Mom ten minutes to drive there, so I figured it would take us about twenty minutes to walk there.
“Are we gonna tell Mommy?” Kat stood with her suitcase in her hand. The moon illuminated her fluffy blonde hair. Her eyes were like our cats when he sat to watch the birds and I could tell she was scared.
“I don’t think we can.” I leaned in closer to whisper. “Mom can’t know where we’re going cause Dad might ask her and then he’ll know where we are.”
“Why can’t Daddy know we’re going to Grandma’s?”
The shadows from our night light hid my face. “He just can’t.” I thought for a minute. “Okay, let’s tell Mom. Just so she’s not worried. So she can come visit us if she wants.”
Kat nodded.
The door to her bedroom creaked as we tiptoed inside and stood by the side of her bed. Her pill bottles were lined up on the nightstand next to her, some of them she didn’t bother to put the tops back on. The glowing TV let me watch her breathe in and out, her mouth open enough to fit a piece of paper, lips cracked and dry. She chewed on ice chips perpetually because of her dry mouth.
“Mommy,” I whispered and nudged her shoulder. She lay motionless and I looked at Kat. She shrugged. “Mommy, wake up.”
The clock read eleven something. Her night stand was so littered with pill bottles I couldn’t see the rest of the display.
I picked up her hand and watched it drop like a brick onto her bed. We didn’t have time. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I crouched down next to her ear.“MOMMY!” I yelled.
She startled awake, grabbing at the air in front of her. I pushed Kat back against the wall to avoid her flailing arms. “Ohh, what? What happened?” She sat up in bed and I wasn’t sure what to say. Her hand was on her chest. “What are you two doing out of bed?” She checked the clock. “Go back to bed.”
