Cut

by Layla Harding

  My phone didn’t ring. I was surprised, but mostly relieved. Maybe, just maybe.

  18.

  Monday morning dawned clear and bright. Three days of school left. Graduation on Saturday afternoon. I sailed through my finals and even chatted with a few classmates. Like, engaged in genuine small talk about the prom. I may have even seemed interested, without a hint of sarcasm. There were a few times I was tempted to sneak into the bathroom, look in the mirror and make sure it was really me looking back.

  Maggie and I met at the front door after the last bell. “Hey, killer. Don’t you look like the cat that ate the canary? Did you make a cheerleader cry or something?”

  “I’m allowed to just be in a good mood, right?”

  “Sure. Of course you’re allowed. But are you capable? Hey, I’m just kidding! It’s good to see you smile! Did you get your Project Graduation ticket yet?”

  I patted my purse. “Right here, baby. All purchased and ready for a night of frivolity and shallow fun with a group of people I hope never to see again in my life. If you ask me, fifteen dollars well spent.”

  “Smartass. Well, hey, I’m running over to Mick’s for a while. I figured you would be over at Ken’s. Want to try to do something tomorrow?” I fought down the urge to tell her I wanted to do something today or not at all. It was petty and spiteful—two things I was trying very hard to get rid of.

  “Yeah, great. Have fun with Mickey!” I waved as she veered off in the other direction towards her car.

  On the way home, I thought about the Alfredo sauce recipe I had found online during class earlier. I was anxious to try it out and hoped Ken was up for pasta. I was pretty sure there was a box of frozen cheese bread I could make to go with it. Maybe I would run to the store and get a pie or something for dessert. Maybe the Mrs Smith’s Reese’s Peanut Butter pie. That would make him happy.

  These were the thoughts running through my head when I turned onto Ken’s street. When I saw my father’s car sitting in his driveway, my stomach twisted in on itself. I gagged, feeling the bagel and cream cheese fighting its way out. I barely got the car slowed and the door open before it tumbled out of my mouth and splashed onto the street. What was he doing here? How had he found me? I knew the answer almost before the question had formed in my head. Fucking phone tracker.

  There was nowhere left to run. There was no safe place. I was out of options. He had taken everything from me. Pure hatred and rage caused my cheeks to flame. I could feel the heat of it in every pore. I wanted to scream. I wanted to beat someone. I wanted blood. I wanted to stop feeling like my body and mind were exploding and shrinking at the same time. I wanted anything but to go inside, but it was my only option.

  The front door was unlocked, which was good. I didn’t think I could focus enough to get my key in the hole. I stood on the threshold, not sure what to do next. I could hear the murmuring of voices in the living room. What was he saying? What was he telling Ken about me?

  “Persephone, I assume that’s you. Please come in here.” Ken’s voice drew me in. My natural instinct was to obey.

  Dad was sitting in my chair ( asshole, that doesn’t belong to you. That’s mine), arms resting on his knees, leaning forward. Whatever the discussion was, it was obviously intense. I hovered on the edge of the living room.

  “Your dad was just telling me a few things about you, Persephone. Things he thought I should know. Perhaps you should repeat them for your daughter, Mr Daniels.” Ken’s face was grim. I leaned against the wall and stared at the floor, ashamed and embarrassed. I couldn’t face him. I knew whatever my dad had told him, it was something to make Ken not want me anymore. Something that would make sure I went back home. I almost turned around to go get my bags from my room.

  “Well, Persephone, since you spend so much time here, I thought this nice gentleman should know what kind of person you are exactly. For instance, I have noticed lately that some of my Xanax have gone missing.” He turned to Ken. “I have a slight anxiety issue. The stress of work and having a teenager in this day and age. I rarely take them. As a matter of fact, I prefer to leave the bottle at home when I travel and only take a few with me. When I left for this trip there were fifteen in the bottle. Now there are only six. Do you have any prescriptions in the house? Have you checked them lately?”

  Ken shook his head. I could feel the tears burning in the rims of my eyes. I had never touched his pills, but why would Ken believe that? Why would anyone believe me over a grown man? Over my father?

  “She is also an adroit liar, aren’t you, Persephone?”

  I nodded. What was the point in not being truthful now?

  “You should hear some of the stories she makes up. I worry sometimes her only options for a career are criminal or writer. Neither of which are exactly promising, wouldn’t you agree?” Dad gave Ken the we’re-in-this-together-wink. “So I think it would be best if Persephone went and got her things, so I can take her home. Her mom and I will come back and get her car tomorrow.”

  Why did my own father hate me so much? He was supposed to love and cherish me. Treat me like a princess and walk me down the aisle. Daddies are supposed to protect their little girls. Nothing in my brain could make it okay.

  Ken gripped the arms of his recliner and sat up straight.

  “Mr Daniels, I appreciate you taking the time to tell me all of this. If I had known you felt like this, Persephone and I would have had a much different conversation before she came to stay here.” Dad leaned back in his chair, satisfied. His toy would be home by dinner.

  “I will go get my stuff.”

  “No, Persephone, you will stand here and listen to what I have to say. And you will pick your head up.” When I looked at him, Ken had a single tear running down his cheek. Oh god, I had hurt him. He’d trusted me, taken care of me, and I broke his heart. Everything was numb.

  “Now let me tell you what I know about Persephone. I know that three months ago she had no plans for her future and no hope of having one. I know she felt alone and scared. I know she was rude and defeated. I know she has now taken it upon herself to only get accepted to college but also secure the funding she needs to go to that college. I know Persephone is beginning to see that life does still hold some joy. And she knows she is no longer alone.

  “What I also know, Mr Daniels, is that while you may be her father I will not let you destroy everything Persephone has built for herself. With all due respect, which I expect is very little, I must insist you leave my home immediately. And you will be leaving without Persephone. She is staying here.”

  The anger emanating from both men was palpable. It was crushing me. Dad stood, his bottom lip disappearing, the explosion imminent.

  “Listen, you son of a bitch, I don’t care who the hell you think you are or what you think you know, but that is my daughter. I—”

  Ken sprang from his chair and crossed the room in two steps. He was at least three inches taller than my father, and in that moment I could see the young man Ken once was. The Marine he would always be.

  “You will do nothing but leave this house. Persephone is not the only person in this room I know. I know you, too. I know more about you than I ever wanted to. You may have the two women in your life terrified of you, but you don’t scare me. I may be old, but I can still handle a piece of garbage like you. I am a United States Marine, sir, and I will kick your ass. Now get the hell out of here.” The last sentence was punctuated with a forceful poke to Dad’s chest.

  “I will leave because she isn’t worth all of this. You can keep her.” On his way out, he paused and whispered, “You will come home, Persephone. You’re my little girl.” When I heard the door slam, I crumpled to the floor and Ken sank into his chair.

  “Persephone, are you okay?” I nodded and realized he couldn’t see me. I couldn’t get my mouth to work, though. “Persephone?” I managed to crawl around the corner to the front of his chair. I laid my head on his knee and felt him pat the top of my head. His hand rested ther
e.

  “Everything’s going to be alright. It’s going to be okay.”

  “No, it’s not. You don’t understand. He isn’t going to go away. He’ll be back. He always comes back.”

  “Persephone, he’s done. He’s a bully. A bully and a coward. And a coward will never fight when it is easier to run away.”

  I don’t know how long we sat there like that, but eventually we both agreed we were hungry. I made grilled cheese and soup, the recipe for Alfredo sauce forgotten. Ken ate in his chair, a tray in his lap. I sat on the floor in front of him. Neither of us spoke. I cleaned up the plates and bowls afterwards. As I was scrubbing the frying pan, I heard Ken come into the kitchen.

  “Persephone, I need you to listen to what I am about to say and believe me.” I turned around to face him. “You are safe here. I won’t let him hurt you ever again. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you believe me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  And the funny thing was I did.

  19.

  On Wednesday afternoon, Maggie and I walked out of our high school for the last time with the whooping and hollering of our classmates surrounding us. We exchanged high fives with classmates and chatted about graduation on Saturday—who was having a reception before and who after and which ones we should try to go to. Yearbooks were passed around for last minute signatures. Mine stayed tucked in my bag. I didn’t want to know what my classmates had to say about me. I was pretty sure they felt the same way.

  When we finally made it to our cars, Maggie and I were both worn out—way too much social interaction crammed into a short amount of time.

  “Are you coming by the house Saturday? You can bring Ken if you want.” Maggie’s mom was hosting a brunch before the ceremony. Maggie had already threatened a lifetime of silence if I didn’t come help her deal with the crush of family and her mother’s friends.

  “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Thanks, Persephone. Hey, are you sure your parents aren’t doing anything for you? I mean, it’s your high school graduation and I know you guys aren’t really…” As many issues as Maggie had with her mom she still could not comprehend a parent simply walking away from their child. Completely giving up.

  “I’m sure. It’s no big deal, Maggie, I promise. I have you and Ken. It’s fine. I wouldn’t want them there anyway. I want to be happy on Saturday.” I plastered on what I hoped was a convincing smile and gave her a hug.

  “I’ll see you Saturday, okay?”

  “Alrighty. Oh, did I tell you Mick is going to be there?”

  “Awesome! Can’t wait to see him again.”

  One more hug and we parted ways. In my car, I let my mind go where I had refused to let it over the past two days. I had not heard from Dad again. For all I knew, he was back out on the road. Mom had not called either. One filled me with hope. The other was crushing. Would she really let me go without a backwards glance? Was the fear of him greater than her love for me? Or worse, was her apathy? I didn’t even know if she was coming to my graduation or not. I told myself it didn’t matter. Myself didn’t believe me.

  There was a car parked in Ken’s driveway—a dark sedan with out-of-state plates. My first thought was Dad sent someone to arrest me—a juvenile officer to bring in the big, bad, non-existent Xanax thief. My second thought was something had happened to Ken. I barely had the car in park before I was out and running to the front door.

  “Ken? Ken? Are you okay?” I skidded to a halt in the living room when I saw someone sitting in my rocking chair. He was older and grayer, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans instead of Marine dress. And there was a small paunch in front that wasn’t there before, but there was no mistaking him. Sitting across from Ken was James.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. They were both here, right in front of me. My two warriors, heroes. It was too much for my mind to process and my heart to take.

  “Well, there she is. Miss Persephone, I presume?” James stood and held out his arms. I nodded and walked to him. “It’s so nice to meet ya, sweet pea.”

  “Uh huh.” I meant to say more, I really did. I meant to hold it together. I meant to be calm and composed. I meant to sound human. None of that happened. I snuffled and snotted against his shirt as he patted my back and tried to soothe me.

  “It’s okay, hon. It’s all okay.” It seemed like people were telling me that a lot lately. Eventually maybe I would believe them.

  James held me out at arm’s length and grinned. “Why don’t you go wash your face? I’m taking you and this old coot out for dinner. I assume there’s some decent barbecue somewhere in these parts.” He hitched his thumbs through his belt loops and puffed out his chest, the perfect imitation of a small town, southern sheriff. I expected him to turn his head to the side and spit at any moment.

  “There’s a place over near my school. I’ve never been in it, but some of the football players swear by it. They go over there all the time before games. Um, City Butcher, I think?”

  “Well then that’s the place. Ken, you ready to take this girl out on the town?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked tired but content. There had been a lot of activity in his life lately. Maybe he needed to rest. “You know, I could just go pick something up and bring it back. They do carry-out, too.”

  “No, no, no. It’s not often I have my two favorite people in the same place. We all deserve a night out. James, you okay with driving? Persephone has a clown car.”

  James’ laugh filled every corner of the house and warmed me down to my toes. “Of course I will! Now let’s get going!” James pulled his USMC Vietnam Vet cap on and herded us towards the door.

  City Butcher was packed. There was a party of five (Mom, Dad and three rambunctious kids) in front of us waiting for a table as well. I contemplated the feasibility of tripping them as they ran in circles around their parents’ legs. Would the ensuing injured crying be worse than the ear-piercing squealing?

  Before I could test my hypothesis, the hostess came back and motioned to the dad. “You’re table is ready, sir.”

  He turned and looked at us, and replied, “No, they were here first.” The wife grinned and whispered something in the ears of her brood.

  The oldest of the three (he may have been six) stepped in front of James and stuck out his hand. “Thank you for serving, sir. Daddy says my grandpa was in that war, too. Are you her grandpa?”

  “You are quite welcome, young man. And yes, she belongs to me.” The little boy nodded. Everything was just as it should have been in his world. The hostess shrugged, completely indifferent to the entire exchange.

  As we passed, I patted the father on the arm and whispered thank you. He only nodded, lost in memories of his own father. Maybe wishing he had more.

  An annoyingly cheerful waitress came over to take our order. James didn’t even allow us to open the menu. “We need three teas. Two sweet and one unsweet. Persephone, I will not let him corrupt you into drinking that heathen unsweet stuff. It just ain’t proper. We’ll take a slab of ribs, a large side of slaw and a large side of beans. And three plates. Can you get that for us, darlin’?” It didn’t matter that he was old enough to be her grandfather. Between the southern drawl and the wink at the end of his question, this poor girl was smitten. She giggled, nodded and bounced off to get our drinks. It was adorable.

  “Now, did Ken ever tell you about the time we had elephants building our camps for us?”

  “No, sir.”

  “He hasn’t? Well let me tell you something.” And with that James was off and running. I heard stories of basic training and drill sergeants that would have scared R. Lee Ermey. I heard about the jungles of Vietnam and the bouts of food poisoning. I heard about James meeting his wife in a military hospital after getting shot in the arm. How she played hard to get, but James knew he could wear her down eventually. During some of the stories, Ken would raise an eyebrow or shake his
head, and James would start on a different wild tale. Apparently, there were parts of the war Ken didn’t think I needed to hear about. It was sweet the way he tried to protect me from anything that seemed too horrific, as if I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Or maybe he simply thought it wasn’t something a girl should hear.

  On the ride home, I leaned in between the two seats like a kid, listening to the two of them trade good-humored insults and inside jokes. It was like a lullaby, the soothing sounds of their voices. I leaned back and closed my eyes. I must have drifted off because the next thing I felt was the bump of the car pulling into the driveway and heard them discussing how to wake me up.

  “No, don’t touch her, James. It scares her. Just whisper her name until she wakes up. She… she gets scared in her sleep. I think she has nightmares.” I tried to keep my eyes closed so I could hear what else they would say.

  “You still havin’ yours?”

  “Sometimes. They’ve gotten better since she came along. Damn near took her arm off the other night though when she tried to wake me up. You should have seen her, James. Looked like I was about to beat her. The worst part is she looked like she thought she may deserve it. You have to promise me something.”

  “Anything, my friend. You know that.”

  “You don’t ever let that son of a bitch near her again. If you have to kill him, I expect you to do it. That’s an order, Corporal, understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  It was time for me to feign waking up. I couldn’t take anymore. “Hey, are we home?” I stretched and yawned, pretending I had heard nothing.