At Daddy’s Hands

by Jacob Paul Patchen

  Tyler grimaced, picked up the peas, and put them on the back of his neck.

  “You know, I don’t understand why we can’t just treat each other like we care? You know? Like we’re there for each other. I mean, we’re a family.”

  Ally crossed her arms in defense.

  “What? Are you getting all soft and sentimental now? Did dad knock some screws loose, something?”

  Tyler stiffened up and threw the peas towards the door. They bounced and crinkled against the bedroom trim.

  “No, I’m serious. We’ve all been abused by that piece of trash, we’re all in pain. I don’t understand why we can’t just be there for each other? You know?”

  His comments made the room fall silent. Both of his sisters searched the floor for something to say.

  “I care.” Nikki’s soft voice broke the silence.

  “I know you do,” said Tyler.

  Ally bit her lip and looked up towards the corner of the room.

  “I care too. It’s just… I just miss when dad used to treat us like his kids, you know? Do you remember when he used to camp with us out in the yard? Well, until we heard too many monsters and came running in?”

  They all chuckled, reminiscing of the days that didn’t make them feel so ashamed.

  “Or when he would take us fishing?” Nikki added.

  “Or when he would toss the football with us,” sighed Tyler.

  They sat for a few moments in the quiet reflection of those “good days” of their youth.

  Tyler forced out a loud huff of frustration.

  “Look, dad completely messed us up. That’s just the damn truth. We knew that well before therapy with Mike. And I’m sure we’ll be messed up for a long time after, too. But… all I’m saying is… we have each other, right? We’re brother and sister. We’ve been fighting the same fight and didn’t even realize it. Hell, in my eyes, we’re warriors.”

  He picked up his football from his desk and spun it into the air.

  “And, if you ask me, I think it’s time that we start acting like it.”

  . . . . .

  Today was the day. Today they would put their “plan” into motion. Today they would end their suffering with self-inflicted justice. Today they would end their father.

  Nikki sat at her desk thumbing through her journal and rereading her poems about her abuse. She had already read, “At Daddy’s Hands,” four times in the last twenty minutes. Her lips moved along as she read it yet, again.

  Resting her blonde tangles in her hand and tapping her pen on her opened journal, she thought about the last few weeks. She thought about all the events and suffering which had brought them all to this day, to this decision, to this defining moment of their childhood, and perhaps the most distinguished act of courage of their entire lives.

  She chuckled out loud to herself about Tyler’s commitment to leading them all to justice.

  “If the system isn’t going to do what’s right, then we will,” he started his speech, like some politician campaigning for re-election. “And if justice is going to be served, then let it be at the hands of his victims.” He finished, nearly a week ago, standing in front of them, pacing back and forth, pumping his fist with emotion.

  Our captain, our general, our fearless leader. Nikki remembered thinking as Tyler unfolded his plan to get rid of their abuser, their father, for good.

  Nikki shut her journal and lingered at the family picture on the front of it that she had drawn with colored pencils the day her mom had given it to her. It’s just one of my old notebooks that I failed to fill, Ashley had said, as if it wasn’t as memorable as Nikki made it out to be. Nikki admitted that she wasn’t as great of an artist as Ally when she finally showed Tyler the picture. In it was just the four of them: Ally in purple, Ashley in yellow, Tyler in black, and Nikki in green, all fishing at the pond behind their house. The light brown grass was slapped around the dark blue pond. A fish was dangling from their fishing poles while each of them were smiling broad and showing their teeth. Jim was nowhere to be seen. But behind them, tucked away, hiding in the grass, she had drawn a small dark snake with a bright red tongue.

  At the time, Tyler had asked her if that was the snake that she had killed a few years ago, back when Ally nearly stepped on it while walking down the path to the pond, cluelessly paying attention to nothing but her phone. “Clueless Ally” had no idea that there was a copperhead snake just below her ankle.

  “Snaaake!” Nikki had yelled, instinctively swinging her fold-up lawn chair wildly at its head. To the surprise of them all, it was a direct hit which left the snake twisting and rolling for nearly five minutes as they watched, eww-ing and aww-ing, until it had eventually stopped moving.

  When Tyler had asked her about the snake, she gave it some thought and simply nodded her head, though, she knew exactly what and who her snake represented.

  But now she thought of how closely that snake had come to striking and killing any one of them. How lucky they were, she thought, that she was blindly bold enough to work up a small step forward, let alone lash out and battle that predator to the death. She smiled and shook her head at the thought of comparing that moment to this one. She hoped that she could muster the same courage and fearlessness as she instinctually did that day.

  Tyler knocked lightly on her door causing her to jump and kick the leg of her desk.

  “Ouch! What the heck?! What are you doing, creeper?” She asked rubbing her foot and trying not to laugh along with Tyler.

  “That was great. It seems like you’re all ready for our mission tonight. Let’s just hope that nobody makes a small knocking sound, or you’ll be done.” Tyler teased her.

  “Shut up.” She tried to laugh, but the reality of the situation set in, and seeing it on his sister’s face, Tyler walked over and hugged her.

  “I’m sorry. Look, everything will be fine. It’ll be alright. We went over the plan, like, a million times. You got this. We got this!” He rubbed her back while she rubbed her big toe.

  Ally, hearing the noise from Nikki’s room, came to see what the drama was.

  “What are you two douches doing?” She asked laying across Nikki’s Wonder Woman bedspread.

  “Douches? Classy.” Tyler shook his head, a small grin played at his eyes. “How about you? Are you ready for tonight?”

  Ally looked down at the bedspread and picked at a loose thread hanging near the heart of Wonder Woman herself. She cracked her neck from side to side and then massaged it out of habit.

  “I think so. I guess I sort of have to be, right?”

  Just then, Ashley came walking through the hall with the laundry basket. She knocked on the open door and smiled to see them all in one room together. She wiped her messy blonde hair from her lips with her arm.

  “Dirty laundry?” She nudged the basket pressed onto her hip in their direction.

  “Already threw it in,” Nikki said, “thanks.”

  “How about you two? Now or never. I’m throwing it in right now.” She cocked her head and gave them the eye that she gave when she said something that they should do, but still gave them the freedom to make their own decision.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Me too.” Ally smiled, hoping that her mother didn’t ask what they were all talking about.

  “Ok, then.” Ashley turned to walk away and then paused. She spun back around with a serious but warming look on her face.

  “You know, I’ve noticed that you all have been spending a lot of time together these last few weeks….”

  Oh, no! She knows! Ally thought instantly.

  “I just want to tell you
all how much that warms my heart. I love you guys. Even if I’m horrible at showing it. You know that, right? That I love you with all my heart?” She smiled a warm, contagious smile that Tyler hadn’t seen her use in quite some time.

  “We know, Mom,” Nikki started, “and we love you too… especially when you do our laundry.” She giggled.

  They all laughed together, shifting eyes back and forth during the awkward pause afterward.

  Ashley stood in the door admiring her beloved children. She realized that she hadn’t done that nearly enough recently. Now with the weight of a heaping basket full of dirty clothes and puffing at the wild hair tickling her face, she took it all in. The whole scene, her three children, who seem older than she remembered them, the smell of Tyler’s sweaty clothes, of Nikki’s overused perfume, and Ally’s jet-black hair, straightened and combed, playing at her freckled cheeks. Ashley wanted so badly to reach out and kiss those cheeks, to pull each of her kids into her heart, to feel them, to hug them, to love them, and keep them all right here, right now in this moment, before they were all too grown to hug and kiss their mother.

  Shaking her love-lit face, Ashley winked and headed out the door and down the stairs to the laundry room.

  They listened as she lifted the lid while singing softly to herself, started the washer, and did her motherly tasks to show how much she loved them, how much she still wanted to take care of them. She was completely oblivious to their planned conclusion for this self-liberating evening.

  “That was… uh, weird.” Ally raised her brows at Tyler, who shrugged.

  “Must be having a good day.”

  . . . . .

  Jim was sipping on his third Jim Beam and Coke, which Ally had poured for him. It was a little on the heavy side, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was watching NCIS in his chair while Ashley cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen. It had been a calm and quiet few days. There had been no fighting, no arguing, no apparent evil lurking around in the shadows. For now, the Devil was at bay and Ally wanted to call it off, suggesting that maybe he had changed. On those rare decent days, she clung tightly to hope. But Nikki and Tyler convinced her that it was time to face their demons. It was time to take back their lives.

  “Dad,” Nikki said, stepping through the walkway into the living room, “I’m… I’m ready for our talk.”

  “What? Oh, yeah.” Jim looked at his shiny silver watch. It was just after 8 p.m., “I guess it is getting a little late.” He ran his hand along his thigh and back up again to his crotch, adjusting himself. “Yeah, we should probably do it before it gets much later.” He downed the last of his Jim Beam and groaned out of his love seat recliner. “Let’s go.” Was all he said as he passed her and headed up the steps.

  Ashley watched from over her shoulder as he led Nikki up to their bedroom. She hadn’t taken any pills today and had simply enjoyed one glass of wine for dinner. She was aware of Nikki’s fate but didn’t know how to stop it. Jim had beat her bloody the last time she had confronted him about what was happening to her children. So, she just watched with disgust, with sadness, and with weakness, as that son of a bitch led her daughter by the hand, up the steps, and into the bed that they still shared.

  Nikki gave Tyler and Ally a quick look as she passed by their opened and waiting bedroom doors. They were pretending to watch TV, anxiously waiting for them to walk by. As soon as they did, Tyler looked at Ally, held up two fingers and mouthed “two minutes” across the hall. She let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. She was still holding onto something, still battling right and wrong. Deep down inside of her, she still wanted her father back. But, she could see the death inside of Nikki’s eyes, and despite their differences, she had an aching to protect her younger sister.

  Jim shut the door and turned on the nightstand light.

  “So, how’s school going?” He asked nonchalantly as he took off his shirt. This cycle of abuse had become so normal to him now that he was comfortable enough to engage in small talk. Of course, it wasn’t always that way. The first several times Nikki kicked and punched. But she surrendered after he squeezed her throat and threatened to pull the life right out of her.

  Nikki stood there watching her father undress down to his boxer briefs, stalling, hoping that her brother and sister would rescue her soon.

  “It was okay. How was your day?” She hoped conversation would stall his intentions.

  Jim chuckled, almost as evil, almost as empty as the act that he was so eager to commit.

  “Fine, I guess. Now, come over here. Sit down.” He lowered himself to the bed and pat the comforter beside him.

  Nikki walked gently, still stalling, still burning the seconds away.

  “Come on, I don’t have all night. Take off your shirt.” His words were slightly slurred.

  Nikki slid off her shirt, leaving on her bra, and sat on the bed beside her father.

  He ran his hand along her shoulder, then her neck.

  “You’re starting to grow up, you know,” he said casually. “Soon, you’ll be a woman. Soon, I won’t have much use for you.” His words seemed more like thoughts spoken out loud than conversation.

  She ignored him, sitting on the bed shirtless as her father ran his hand over her body. She closed her eyes and tried to take herself away from his rough hands and whiskey breath. Her breathing became deep and controlled. She focused on her chest moving in and out, on her shoulders rising and falling. In her mind, she counted after each breath, watched as the numbers faded into existence in her head. She felt them. She created them. She became them.

  It was one of the few precious things that she had learned from her father before he set out to ravish her. It was a generous gift he gave her, the day that she had walked in on Ally cutting her forearms. She had nightmares for days after seeing her sister’s blood. One night, after waking up the entire house after screaming herself awake, Jim gently explained to her his secret about how he would calm himself after nightmares when he was a kid. He leaned down close to her ear and whispered: “just close your eyes, think of somewhere happy and safe, breathe in slow and deep, count slowly to ten, and back down again – if you have to.” It was a technique that she had mastered by now.

  “I wonder what I’ll do once you’re a little older.” He was definitely thinking out loud now. “I suppose I’ll just have to find someone else to love as much as you.”

  His words pierced her concentration, and she cringed at the thought of someone else facing this torture. She sucked in air loudly through her nose, tried to find her strength, and started counting again.

  He stood up and slid off his underwear.

  “Go ahead.” He motioned, standing in front of her.

  Ally was on her way back up the stairs with another strong drink for her father. Tyler was searching through his sock drawer for the bottle of Percocet he swiped from his mother’s purse last night.

  Ally rounded the corner into Tyler’s room.

  “Hurry,” he said, “she can’t stall forever.”

  He ripped open the pills and poured them all into the Jim Beam. Ally swirled the drink with her finger, letting them dissolve.

  “C’mon… c’mon.” Tyler encouraged until they fizzled out and blended with the amber drink. Tyler looked at Ally and nodded.

  “Ready? Let’s do this.” Tyler handed her the glass. “Remember. Act normal.”

  She started down the hallway, careful not to spill any of the poison. Tyler was right behind her holding onto her shoulder for comfort.

  She knocked on her father’s door.

  Jim was pulling his daughter’s pants to the ground.

  “Not now!” he shouted from the other side.

  “I brought y
ou another drink.” Ally offered innocently.

  Jim yanked off Nikki’s pants and tossed them into the corner.

  “Just leave it!” He yelled back, his words obviously slurring.

  “Okay.” Ally set the glass in front of the door, splashing some over the rim and onto the hardwood floor. Crap. She thought, wiping at it with her bare hand.

  Then, they both hurried carefully back to Tyler’s room. Wide-eyed, they stared at each other for a moment, and then peered around the door frame, waiting for their father to consume his fate.

  Jim opened the door bare naked.

  Ally and Tyler jumped back into the room, tripping over each other and bumping into the dresser, knocking over some of Tyler’s football trophies.

  Jim didn’t notice. He was too focused on his drink, on his pleasure.

  “Shh.” Ally held her finger up to her lips.

  Tyler set the trophies back onto the dresser, quietly. Ally crawled up to the door, barely poking her compact mirror out just far enough to see what was happening.

  Jim stood in the black mass pouring out from behind him into the hallway light. He glanced around, grunted, and bent down to grab his drink. He stumbled, caught himself, rebalanced and reached down, again. This time he steadied himself on the wall. He wrapped his fingers around it firmly, felt its cold dampness, smelled the sweetness of alcohol and a splash of Coke as he pulled it up to his lips. The ice clinked against the glass. He stood there in the doorway – darkness behind him, light in front. He took a slow sweet swallow and turned and headed back into the shadows.

  “Jim! Jim you bastard! You God damned bastard!”

  Ally and Tyler snapped their heads toward each other and froze, eyes wide with shock, with fear.

  Jim’s shoulder slouched. He turned around annoyed, letting his drink dangle to his side.

  His wife stood firm at the top of the stairs, like that old oak in the yard that outlasted last year’s windstorm. Her arms were extended, Jim’s duty pistol squeezed into her hands, her finger shaking on the trigger.