by Athan, Jon
Before they could physically clash, Ashley sneered in annoyance and stepped in reverse. Her father blocked the front door with his hulking figure. She could bulldoze through him, kick him in the crotch and slink away, but she decided to take a safer route. She had the tongue of a serpent when it came to arguing.
She said, “I have somewhere to be. What do you want?”
Logan stared at his daughter with dejected eyes. She wore a gray button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The shirt was neatly tucked into a black skirt. Matching flats completed her simple outfit. She didn't have the same flashy style as her boyfriend – and that brought some comfort to her father's mind.
Logan said, “I just want to talk to you, Ashley. I want to... to apologize for last night. I don't want it to be this way between us. I don't want you to run out of here every morning because you're mad at me. I don't want us to fight about everything that happens to us. I just want us to... to... to go back to normal. I want to fix this.”
Ashley gazed into her father's eyes – he seemed sincere. Her father was often angry and strict, but, every once in a while, kindness would glimmer in his eyes. She didn't have time to reconcile with Logan, though. It didn't seem necessary, either. For the most part, she was comfortable with the current dynamic between father and daughter.
She pouted and stared down at her feet, rejecting his offer without saying a word. She only hoped he would move out of her way without another word, too.
Noticing her reluctance, Logan beckoned to Ashley and said, “You should at least grab a bite to eat before you go. We've got eggs, bacon, cereal... I still have time before work, too. I can make you anything you want. Come on, what will it be?”
Ashley responded, “Nothing. I'm not hungry.”
“Are... Are you sure?”
“I'm positive. I'll grab something for lunch if I'm hungry. Don't worry about me.”
“Well, how about we all meet up later tonight and have a family night? Cal was talking about catching a movie. Maybe we can watch something here. We can pop some popcorn, put on a scary movie, check–”
“I'm busy,” Ashley interrupted.
“Busy? Busy... You're always busy, aren't you?”
Logan gritted his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose, flustered. He tried to contain his anger. There was an itch, though – an itch to strike his insolent daughter. How could a father ever think of hitting his own child? He couldn't conjure an excuse.
It was just an itch, though.
Ashley said, “I've gotta go.”
As she tried to squeeze past him, Logan grabbed Ashley's arm and pulled her back. He said, “Please, Ash, I just want to talk to you. I want to fix all of this. Christ, I'm just trying to apologize to you for crying out loud. Why can't you accept that? Why can't you ever talk to me?”
Ashley glared at her father and tried to pull away, yanking her arm with all of her might. Logan, however, tightened his grip. The pair practically grappled near the front door. Jane and Calvin could feel the tension from the kitchen. The quarreling pair were nearing a catastrophic eruption – someone was going to get hurt.
Jane ran through the archway and separated the pair. She gently pushed her husband towards the archway, then she grabbed both of her daughter's wrists. She stared into Ashley's eyes, daunted by the anger burning in her soul.
Jane said, “Please, sweetie, just listen to your dad. He's not trying to... to hurt you or anything like that. He just wants to apologize. If you'd just listen, we'd all be so much happier.”
Ashley huffed and rolled her eyes. She asked, “Are you saying you're all miserable 'cause of me? Huh? Am I like a... a black hole that's sucking up all of your 'happiness?' Or am I just not good enough for your little portrait of a happy family? Which is it?”
“You know that's not what I meant. But, we all know we're not treating each other well right now. All of this arguing is unhealthy. Look, you're not leaving this house until you accept his apology and until you apologize, too. Okay?”
An apology was worthless if the victim was forced to accept it. Doing so was like accepting and enabling particular behavior. Being forced to apologize was equally unnecessary. An insincere apology was nothing more than a garble of noise, like listening to a politician's speech.
Ashley pulled away from her mother's grip. She placed her hands on her shoulders and moved forward, gently pushing Jane towards the archway. Jane glanced at her daughter's hands, baffled by her actions. She didn't enjoy being touched by other women, even if said woman was her daughter. It made her feel filthy.
The teenager stopped and asked, “And, what are you going to do if I don't? Hmm? You're like... fifty years old, mom. You're too old for this shit. I mean, if you can't stop your receding hairline from running away from you, what makes you think you can stop me?”
Jane gasped and staggered in reverse, shocked by the unexpected insult. She placed one hand on her chest and the other over her gaping mouth. Logan furrowed his brow and tilted his head, caught off guard by the personal insult. Even Calvin gasped from the kitchen as he eavesdropped on the commotion. Ashley simply stood with a smug smile on her face, clearly proud of herself.
Before another insult could be hurled, a car horn echoed from the street. Mother, father, and daughter turned towards the door. Silence dominated the home – the calm before the storm.
Ashley bolted forward and pulled the door open. As she stepped onto the porch, Logan grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her back – but to no avail. In a knee-jerk reaction, Ashley turned and slapped her father. Logan released her wrist, stunned. He wasn't physically injured, but his ego was murdered and buried by the public display of disrespect.
As she walked in reverse across the walkway, Ashley stuck her tongue out and winked at her father. Acting as if her father were on house arrest, restricted by an ankle bracelet like a teenage thief, she knew Logan would not chase after her past the front porch. His ego may have been buried with the slap, but he refused to allow her to desecrate the grave. He didn't want to be humiliated – again.
Logan stepped onto the porch, his boots thudding on the creaky wood. He stopped at the top of the steps. He clenched his jaw and watched as his daughter hopped into Tyler's car. He felt hopeless as he watched the departing vehicle. Part of him wanted to chase the car down. The tamed part of him, however, told him to wait.
Logan muttered, “I'm done with these games, Ashley... I'm done with your bullshit.”
He sighed, then he returned to his home – ready to comfort his wife and reassure his son.
Chapter Three
The Seed of Abuse
Logan wiped the beads of sweat from his brow as he fell onto a hardwood seat. He sighed as he glanced around the room, ruminative. He found himself in an unfurnished kitchen. A few seats were brought into the room by the crew, but it was otherwise empty. Most of the tile flooring wasn't installed and the cupboards were still missing doors. The rest of the renovation crew walked in-and-out of the kitchen, unaware of the torrent of cynical thoughts rattling in his head.
Even at work, among his close peers, the man could not forget or forgive his daughter's disrespect. There was no mark on his face, he emerged from the fight unscathed, but he felt as if the imprint of Ashley's fingers was tattooed onto his cheek – a badge of shame.
“Hey, man, what are you doing sitting over here by yourself?” a hoarse voice interrupted his contemplation.
Logan glanced over at the archway to his left. His friend, Robert Castro, stood in the archway.
The portly man cracked a smile as he tugged on his black polo shirt. Sweat streamed across his brow and flabby cheeks. His hair, slicked back with globs of gel, was also moist. Still, despite the heat and work, he was able to smile.
Why can't I do the same?–Logan thought.
Robert said, “It's almost time for lunch. Did you finish the molding in the living room or what?”
Logan shook his head and said, “No. I needed to, um,
take a little rest, you know? I just have a lot on my mind.”
Robert puckered his lips and nodded as he analyzed his friend's behavior. He pulled up a chair and sat beside Logan. The chair howled under his tremendous weight, but it didn't snap. The pair couldn't help but chuckle – a lighthearted laugh.
Robert joked, “What are these chairs made out of, man? Paper?” He laughed and shook his head, poking fun at his own weight issues. He patted Logan's shoulder and asked, “How's work going for you? You still getting hours with the district?”
Robert was referencing Logan's job as a janitor for the school district. The job paid sixteen dollars an hour, more than most people would protest for, but it did not offer forty-hour workweeks. His job as a handyman on the renovation crew helped supplement his income, but he could always use more cash while raising two kids.
Logan said, “It's good pay. I just wish I had more hours. I only work a few afternoons or on the weekends. It's not enough, but... What can I do? I'm not my own boss, I don't run my own business. I just have to deal with it. That's the hand I was dealt.”
“Don't worry about it. I mean, you've got savings, don't you?”
“Yeah, yeah...”
“Well, try to stay on your feet and, in a few weeks, I'll put you on a big job. I'm talking real big, too, Logan. None of this 'renovation crew' crap. This is corporate construction we're talking about and it pays very well. So, keep working with me and I'll keep working with you. How does that sound? Huh?”
As the only employed person in his family, the offer was obviously enticing. Steady work and a higher wage, he thought, what could go wrong? Yet, the man appeared distant. Joy was nonexistent in his eyes. Noticing his mental absence, Robert snapped his fingers in front of Logan's face.
As Logan snapped out of his trance, Robert said, “Come on. What's going on in there? Huh? Are you with me? You know I don't like talking about 'feelings' and all of that crap, but are... are you okay? What's wrong with you?”
Logan ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back in his seat. He nervously smiled as he stared at his friend and juggled his options.
He said, “I could talk about my problems all day. I could talk about the lack of work, my crappy marriage, the fucked-up politics of the past two years, the state of society... But, nothing is on my mind more than my daughter.”
“Ashley?”
“Ashley. Maybe I'm just a bad parent. Right? Maybe it all comes back to me. I don't know. I do know that my daughter's behavior is horrible. She is... aggressive. You know what I mean? She's destructive, she's toxic, she's a damn cun–”
Logan caught himself before he could slip deeper into his vile tirade. For a moment, he had forgotten he was speaking about his daughter – his own flesh and blood. What sort of man could degrade his daughter in front of other men?
He shook his head and said, “I'm sorry. That's just me getting emotional. You know me, Robbie. I don't usually talk like that, especially about my own family. It's just getting to me. I think you get it anyway. Yeah, you get it...”
“Oh, I get it, man. Kids nowadays... they don't respect anyone or anything. I wish we could go back to the good ol' days. I mean, believe me, those days were shit for us when we were young, but we turned out okay, didn't we? We're not like these entitled sociopaths that run around here today. No, we work hard because our parents used the hard way to teach us.”
Logan gazed at his friend, surprised. He didn't know about the strong feelings his peer harbored about parenting. The man was clearly passionate about the subject. Perhaps he had his own issues with his children, maybe Logan was not alone.
Robert continued, “Think about it, man. We got spanked, right? We got hit with the belt, right? You can't do that today. You're not allow to physically discipline your children anymore. So, as soon as they realize you have no power over them, they start to do whatever they want. You lock them in their room, they'll just climb out the window. You lock their door and their window, they'll call the cops and say they're being imprisoned. It's not just the justice system, either, pal. No, if you discipline your kid – spank 'em and whatnot – then society says you're a bad parent. You can bet your ass your kid will post about it online and you'll have a hoard of people with nothing better to do at your door.”
As Robert took a breather, out of breath and visibly frustrated, Logan said, “I know. I never said anything about it before, but... you're right. It was on my mind all night. I'm... I'm in a lose-lose situation. If I discipline my kid, I'm an asshole and a criminal. If I don't discipline that girl, I might just be enabling a future criminal.”
“You've got to find a way to work with it, man. This... This politically correct world is spawning a generation of lazy, disrespectful, and entitled assholes. By trying to do the 'right' thing, we're doing the wrong thing. We're not doing our kids any favors by teaching them that they can get away with everything. Besides, I've seen how your girl acts and she deserves an ass-whoopin'. No, she deserves worse than that. She needs to be taught a lesson, Logan. Lock that bitch – no offense – in her room. Get the belt out. Spank her. Do something.”
Robert gently chuckled as he stared through the neighboring archway. A few coworkers walked by the kitchen, continuing their tedious work. He leaned closer to his friend without taking his eyes off of the archway.
In a soft tone, barely above a whisper, Robert said, “Hell, if it makes you feel any better, I hit my kid. I try not to leave any marks, but, yeah, I hit her a few times. I admit it. I let her know I'm not playing any games. And, it works. She still causes some trouble here and there, but I've got her on a leash now. If she tries to bite, I just give her a little 'kick.' It's for the better, though. Believe me, it's for the better...”
Logan was not fazed by the confession of abuse. As a matter of fact, instead of disgust, he felt a sudden surge of inspiration. He wasn't the type of man to interfere in his friends' personal issues, so he wasn't bothered by his words. He glanced around the kitchen until his eyes stopped at the basement. The door was not installed yet, so he could only see the top steps of the stairs leading into a dark abyss.
The abyss offered an idea, though – a sinister suggestion.
He nodded and whispered, “Lock her up... Give her a little kick...” He turned towards Robert and said, “I... I actually have to ask you for a favor if that's okay with you.”
“Sure, man. What do you need? And, please don't ask me to beat the crap out of Ashley for you. I'm not trying to start a child abuse business.”
As Robert cackled, Logan said, “No, no. I'll handle all of that. I just need to borrow some supplies. Nothing expensive, though. I just need some new door knobs, padlocks, latch locks... That sort of stuff.”
“Padlocks? Why?”
“Home improvement. I just want to renovate my house a bit.”
Robert smirked and tilted his head – really? Logan returned the smile and nodded – yeah, really. He knew a smile and a nod wasn't enough to dissuade his friend from digging deeper, though. He could have bought the supplies at a store, but he was already planning ahead. He had an idea to deter Ashley's bad behavior, but he could not leave a trail.
Precautionary measures were required.
Logan said, “To be honest with you, Robbie, I want to install some locks on a few doors. Ashley's boyfriend has been sneaking in at night and... you know. If I can't keep her in, I've got to try to keep him out. That's all. You can take it out of my check.”
Robert lifted his hands up to his chest, as if he were caught red-handed by the police. He said, “Say no more. Keep those little assholes away from your girl.” He patted Logan's shoulder and stood from his seat. As he walked away, prepared to continue his work, Robert said, “We should have some extra supplies in the truck. Take whatever you need. Don't worry about it.”
Logan said, “Thank you.”
Logan sighed in relief as he leaned back in his seat. He scratched his scruffy hair and stared at the basement doorway. His
sinister idea continued to develop in his mind – discipline in its most brutal form. He shuddered as images of violence flashed in his head. Yet, he couldn't help but smile. He was ready to move forward for his family, he was ready to save his daughter from herself.
Chapter Four
A Date
The door chime echoed through the diner, reverberating over the incessant chatter, clanking silverware, and obnoxious munching. A few waitresses walked by the booths to the left, checking up on patrons and delivering meals, while a few customers conversed at the bar to the right.
Ashley and Tyler stood in front of the door and glanced around the eatery. Since no one greeted them, they assumed they were free to seat themselves. The pair walked towards the farthest booth to the left, beyond the arguing families and lovey-dovey couples.
As the pair approached the booth, Ashley beckoned to a young brunette waitress and mouthed, “Sorry, we couldn't wait.”
The waitress waved and said, “It's fine. I'll be with you in a moment.”
Ashley sat with her back to the wall, Tyler sat across the table from her. The rebellious teenager leaned on the window and stared at the neighboring street – Main Street. The sun was barely beginning to set, painting the sky with broad strokes of orange and red. There was still an hour or so of sunshine left for the day, but a few nine-to-five workers already raced home. For the moment, the normality of the world was welcomed with open arms.
Tyler shuffled in his leather jacket as he searched for comfort on the red cushion. He asked, “So, what did you think of the movie? It was pretty good, right?”
Without taking her eyes off of the street, Ashley smiled and responded, “Pretty good? Yeah... I didn't think so. It was the same old horror story from the early 2000s repackaged as something new 'cause it used some 'clever' jump-scare over and over. I mean, it just recycled the same scare from the 2014 short movie. I don't know about you, but that screams lazy writing and direction to me. That's all I'm saying.”
