Mad Dad, Fun Dad

by Doug Draper

  While yelling at Becky for having a smart mouth, Al slapped her face several times. Instead of cowering and apologizing, feisty Becky answered back with profane insults. Al made it clear that he had heard enough by slugging Becky in the jaw with a vicious, anger-fueled punch.

  She fell to the floor, crying hysterically and curling into a ball. Instead of recognizing that he had done something no father should ever do, Al began kicking Becky with his heavy work boots. His blows came quickly and with nothing held back. Ben couldn’t believe that he would treat anyone this way, especially his own daughter.

  Even though Ben didn’t intervene, Al suddenly stopped and left the room, not looking at Ben or saying a word. Debbie had watched the assault and rushed to help Becky recover. She led her out of the room in case their father failed to cool down and came back to deliver more punishment.

  Ben retreated to the barnyard to hide in the safety of “doing chores.” He groaned deeply for letting fear of his father keep him from trying to stop the beating. Ben hoped that he would never see anything like that again in his life—and tried to flush that memory from his brain.

  CHAPTER 43

  After spending a decade at the bottom of the pecking order among his peers, Ben lacked the confidence to participate in typical high school stuff. He never attended the prom or dated. He rarely spoke in class and stayed far away from “guys being guys.” Running on the school’s cross-country and track teams became the exception. He loved to train and compete with his teammates.

  His interest in running began when Joe joined the high school’s cross-country team and soon became the team’s fastest runner. Seeing how quickly his big brother excelled at the sport, Ben signed up for the team as a sophomore, but he came in dead last in his first five races. After beating three runners in the next race, he became a running fanatic.

  Two years later, Ben stood at the starting line with a dozen teammates and fourteen members of the visiting team from Springville High School. For the last race of the season, Ben’s coach changed the school’s course to make it longer and more challenging. As a two-miler on the track team, the extra distance gave Ben an advantage over the cross-country runners who specialized in the mile and half-mile runs. He vowed to win the race, so that he would be the recordholder for the new course.

  When the race began, Ben followed his usual practice of letting the inexperienced runners lead the way with a reckless sprint off the starting line. He knew their enthusiasm would soon cave in to fatigued legs and then he would glide by them as he gradually quickened his pace throughout the race. By applying this strategy, he ended up in ninth place with 500 yards to go.

  His pace had been competitive and yet comfortable, so he approached the end of the race feeling fully equipped for a long sprint to the finish. He began by passing two Springville runners who had been only a few yards ahead of him. They glanced at Ben as he passed and made no attempt to match his faster pace.

  Within seconds, he arrived on the heels of two of his teammates who were running side-by-side. At that moment, the boys held the top two spots for his team. To pass them, Ben accelerated to a speed he usually reserved for the final 200 yards of a race, wanting to create the impression that they shouldn’t even try to keep up.

  “Way to go, Ben!” one of them shouted. “We’re right behind you.”

  Ben flashed a thumbs-up sign and kept going at the same fast pace. He knew the “right-behind-you” comment served as a warning that his teammates planned to respond to his early sprint when he began to falter.

  The racecourse ended on the school’s quarter-mile track that circled the football field. When Ben ran onto the track, he could see all the runners who remained ahead of him—four members of the visiting team.

  Ben charged onto the track at his full-out sprint, pledging to tap into his energy reserves and use every ounce by the time he crossed the finish line. His momentum carried him onto the heels of the first of the four opponents he wanted to pass, and the runner peaked over his shoulder to see who threatened his position. That glance gave Ben all the encouragement he needed to keep sprinting. Ben made the pass and started catching up with the next two runners.

  With the finish line about 200 yards away, Ben passed the pair. With his breathing now at a rapid, uncomfortable level, he could feel the burn in his lungs and knew that his legs would soon cramp. Hearing footsteps behind him, Ben kept sprinting. Leave it all on the track! Finish the race—strong!

  The first-place runner still held a comfortable lead, but his coach urged him to sprint. “Get going, Tony,” the coach said, running on the infield and waving his runner toward the finish line. “You’ve got a jet on your tail and two more right behind him.”

  A jet!

  Ben embraced the compliment and lengthened his stride. He wanted to win this sprint and knew that nobody would catch him from behind if he did.

  Seconds to go! Leave it all on the track!

  Ben finished slightly behind the winner, but he outsprinted the two challengers for second place by more than a stride. After crossing the finish line, he slowed to a jog and moved away from the handful of spectators so he could discreetly throw up the contents of his overstressed stomach—three times.

  While wiping his mouth, Ben turned to see how his teammates were doing. One had finished and stood in the infield, bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees and mouth wide open, gasping for air. Two more of Ben’s teammates crossed the finish line only a second apart.

  Ben staggered into the infield to watch other runners sprint for the finish line. The teammate who came in close behind him looked up when Ben approached and said, “Great run! Where did that sprint come from?”

  “I don’t know,” Ben said, not wanting to admit that his competitive drive came from trying to prove that he wasn’t “stupid and lazy.”

  Ben received a few other pats on the back for his run, but the thrill of his achievement soon blended into a tedious routine of completing school assignments, doing chores at home, and working four days a week at his paid job.

  High school graduation couldn’t come soon enough for Ben. Despite being a teenager, he continued to be treated by his father the same way he had since his early years of childhood.

  A few months before leaving home, Al asked Ben to hold the base of a ladder for him while he climbed to the top and repaired loose shingles on the end of the house. A rainstorm had left the hard-packed soil on that side of the house slippery.

  “I need you to hold the base of the ladder so it doesn’t slide out from underneath me,” Al said as he started up the ladder.

  Despite being taller than his father, Ben weighed much less than him because he had the lean body of a long-distance runner. “Dad, I’m not sure this is going to work because I’m not heavy enough. Maybe we should put a couple of rocks in front of each of the ladder’s legs.”

  “No, this will be easy. Don’t turn it into a big deal.”

  Ben nodded, recognizing that his father still didn’t understand the laws of physics and wouldn’t listen to reasonable solutions to problems. Al climbed the ladder with a hammer in one hand and roofing nails in his shirt pocket. Before he reached the top, the ladder started to slide away from the house even though Ben stood on the bottom rung.

  “We’re sliding! Do something—quick!”

  Ben stepped off the ladder and placed his feet in front of the moving legs but failed to stop them. The top of the ladder and Al bounced down the side of the house while the bottom of it pushed Ben away. As the ladder picked up speed, it knocked Ben off his feet and he landed on the last few rungs when the ladder hit the ground. The fall dumped Al into a hedge next to the house.

  Spewing profanities, Al pushed branches away and then charged Ben who had recovered from the fall and stood next to the ladder. When Ben saw his father coming, his training as a runner kicked in and he took off for the road in front of the house.

  “You lazy, worthless bum! Why didn’t you hold the ladder like I
told you?”

  Ben didn’t reply, finding the question ridiculous and knowing there is never a correct answer for “mad Dad.” He cut through the grassy area in front of the house while glancing over his shoulder to keep track of his father. When he noticed him picking up a three-foot pine branch from the ground, it reminded him of the weird scene he witnessed when his father chased Becky’s dog down the road. Today, Ben had become the “bad dog.”

  Like Duchess, Ben easily outran his father. He only lost these races when very young. Now, the competition was lopsided, but Al kept coming. Ben’s escape was slightly hindered by a small, rail fence that ran along the front edge of the Bakers’ property. Even though he didn’t compete in the hurdles on the track team, Ben had experience jumping them and easily cleared the fence.

  When Al came to the fence, he tried to imitate his son and nearly made it. His front foot cleared the rail, but his back foot caught the immoveable hurdle and Al sprawled headfirst on the road’s gravel shoulder. Ben had turned to keep track of his father’s progress and laughed watching the noisy landing.

  Ben paused in the road long enough to see Debbie standing on the front porch and joining him in his laugh. Al staggered to his feet and the “mad Dad” switch appeared to have been turned off as he laughed and brushed dirt and weeds off his clothing. Even though the outburst seemed to be over, Ben turned away and kept running—effortlessly and loving the freedom his strong legs offered.

  The two miles to Alma’s Main Street passed quickly as he kept smiling about his father’s botched hurdling attempt. Then he down-shifted to a walk and completed a circle through the town, not stopping to talk to anyone or visiting his grandparents to see if they could include him in their dinner plans. He merely killed time until sunset came and the cool mountain breezes compelled him to return home.

  Ben slipped into the barn and made a bed in the hay bales where he rested while keeping an eye on the lights in the house. When they all went out, he crept in through the back door and quietly crawled into his bed. He lacked fear about what the next day might bring. By now, he knew the drill. His father would pretend that nothing happened and might even joke about the hurdling mishap.

  Despite his lack of fear, Ben still hated being chased with a stick. He thought about his money saved in the bank that would help him escape his father’s hateful house, not for an evening but forever. And his next escape wouldn’t be on foot through the mountains: he planned to buy a car, pack his stuff in it, and drive away without looking in the rearview mirror.

  CHAPTER 44

  After graduating from high school, Ben left home for Southern Utah State College in Cedar City, to major in biology and run on the cross-country and track teams. The SUSC campus placed Ben within an hour drive of the main entrance of Zion National Park and even closer if he went to Kolob Canyon, an extraordinarily scenic part of Zion. While at SUSC, Ben spent his free time hiking in Zion and camping in the other national parks in Southern Utah. During the summer, he took jobs in the parks to help pay for school and to gain work experience with the National Park Service, his preferred employer after finishing college. Ben loved the parks, SUSC, and Cedar City, only making the four-hour drive back to Alma for Christmas and then not staying long.

  While his move to Southern Utah provided the escape from home that he had planned for years, it became a lonely refuge during the school breaks, especially those connected to holidays. Most of the students left the campus to spend time with their families or friends. In his junior year, Ben faced the Thanksgiving school break with plenty to do, except on Thanksgiving Day when the hardware store where he worked part-time would be closed. On that day, Ben planned to go for a twelve-mile run and then stay in his dorm room in Manzanita Hall to catch up on reading assignments for his classes. He would cook his own Thanksgiving meal—a hamburger and tater tots. A lonely but peaceful day.

  The campus emptied by mid-afternoon the day before the break officially began. It would be quiet for five days. After finishing his last class, Ben walked to the hardware store on Cedar City’s Main Street to start his shift that would end when the store closed at eight. Ben worked the floor, helping customers with everything from finding tools to mixing paint. When not busy with customers, he stocked shelves.

  At the front of the store, two cashiers handled the checkout process. One of them, Cindy Carson, approached Ben at closing time while he moved a few snowblowers from the curb in front of the store to inside to keep them safe overnight.

  “Excuse me, Ben,” Cindy said. “Do you have a second?”

  “Sure,” Ben said, sincerely interested in talking to his fellow SUSC student whose beauty and kindness he often admired when carrying things to the checkout line for customers.

  “Are you staying in town during the Thanksgiving break?” Cindy asked.

  “Yep, I need the extra pay and only go home for Christmas.”

  “Well, I’m serving Thanksgiving dinner at my church on Thursday and thought you might want to join us,” Cindy said, handing Ben a sheet of paper with an illustration of a turkey and a list of what would be served. “I hope you’d be interested in coming as my guest.”

  Ben glanced at the ad for the event and noticed apple pie listed. The pie, all by itself, beat a hamburger and tater tots. Plus, he liked Cindy and thought this might be her way of starting a friendship. He still found the dating process to be well outside of his comfort zone, but he decided that accepting Cindy’s offer would make it less terrifying to take at least one small step forward.

  “Sure, thanks for the invitation. I’ll be there.”

  “Great, the address for the church is on the flier and we start serving at one, but don’t worry if you’re a few minutes late. I look forward to having you join us.”

  “OK, see you then,” Ben said, folding the flier and shoving it into his pocket.

  “Oh, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cindy said. “Like you, I’m working all day. Good night.”

  Ben mumbled “Good night” and walked to the rear entrance of the store to clock out and pick up his coat for the chilly walk home. He grimaced as he thought about how he ended the conversation with Cindy and wished that he had said more than “OK” when she mentioned that she looked forward to seeing him at the church dinner. He worried that Cindy interpreted his terse reply as either rudeness or a lack of interest.

  While walking to his dorm room, Ben wondered what LDS ward Cindy belonged to and pulled out the flier. He stopped under a streetlight to read it and cringed when seeing “Cedar City Community Church.” He had accepted an invitation to a non-LDS church. His mother would be horrified.

  Suddenly, his interest in showing up for a free Thanksgiving dinner shifted. He had visited other LDS wards before and that had been a comfortable experience, but he had never attended a church of any other denomination. He felt obligated to decline Cindy’s invitation out of loyalty to his pioneer ancestors who had been members of the LDS Church since its founding in the 1830s.

  At work the next day, Ben avoided contact with Cindy as his way of dealing with his hasty decision to accept her dinner invitation. He didn’t want to make up an excuse for not attending or to tell her the truth that going into a non-LDS church seemed like a betrayal of his heritage. The need to bring the snowblowers into the store at closing time forced him to face Cindy.

  “Ben, I told our church’s pastor that you’re having Thanksgiving dinner with us tomorrow and he’s very excited about meeting you,” Cindy said, with a smile that instantly derailed Ben’s plan to say “sorry, can’t make it.”

  Ben nodded as he wrestled one of the snowblowers into its nighttime resting place by the cashiers’ stand.

  “I’ll introduce you to him when you arrive,” she continued. “Come in the main entrance and someone will direct you to the social center where we’ll be eating.”

  Struggling to find the right way to say “No,” Ben panicked and said, “OK. See you tomorrow.”

  Cindy smiled and returned to closi
ng out her cash drawer for the day. Ben shrugged his shoulders as he returned to the curb outside to get another snowblower. “I guess I got to go now,” he muttered to himself.

  During his long run the next morning, he debated whether he should stick with his commitment or be a no-show and apologize later. He remembered Cindy’s smile and her excitement about his attendance at the dinner and decided that he couldn’t let her down. He would go, eat the free food, and leave out one detail if his mother asked what he did for Thanksgiving.

  Not wanting to be late, Ben gave himself plenty of time to find the church and arrived fifteen minutes early. He warily approached the front door and glanced around to see if anyone noticed him. If a member of his LDS student ward saw him entering this church, he would certainly be questioned about it later. While clenching his fists to fight the anxiety shaking his body, he shot up the short staircase leading to the entrance and hurried inside.

  Nobody stepped forward to direct him to the social center as Cindy promised. Despite seeing about a dozen cars in the parking lot, the church appeared empty. There was a light on in the entryway where he stood, but the chapel directly in front of him was dark, except for the natural light coming through three stained-glass windows. Being curious, Ben slipped into the chapel to get a closer look.

  He noticed hymnals in racks on the back of the long benches, which looked like what he would sit on during sacrament meeting in an LDS meetinghouse. But next to the hymnal was a Bible. Mormons are expected to bring their own copy every Sunday—along with the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price.

  Like his church, this one also included a podium, choir seats, and piano. A difference was the giant cross in front of the stained-glass window directly behind the podium. Crosses aren’t used in LDS churches or homes. Otherwise, Ben didn’t see much difference between his church in Alma and this one. He picked up a hymnal to see if any of the songs were the same.