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1981 Our house. It looks
small from the outside, the color of sea green. Next to it, stands a cerulean
blue garage and beside that, a red barn. Ten acres of mowed lawn surround
our spread. A cedar post fence lines the driveway and the front yard,
making it look like a corral. To my relief, the driveway is empty and
the loud pounding in my chest recedes. |
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My footsteps carry me to the front of the house, which is surrounded by rock garden. During the summer, the garden has a variety of seasonal flowers, all which were bought and planted by my stepfather. I pause only to pick at a few weeds which have presented themselves. I wipe the dirt from my hands onto my jacket and continue into the house through the unlocked front door. The house is quiet and empty. This is not unusual. Perhaps my big brother would be home soon. He didn’t leave us a note this time when he left. Quickly, I make myself a dinner of peanut butter and jelly toast, with glass of milk. I wash the dishes as soon as I am done using them. I dry them and put them away, making sure there are no spots on the glass or silverware. I glance at the clock - 4:15, and go downstairs to watch some television. I crack open the door downstairs just a little bit so that I can listen for traffic. We don’t get many cars driving down our road. I turn on the television to watch Scooby Doo. At commercial break, I glance at the clock again, -4:35. I hear the familiar rumbling car tires over gravel. My heart races as I leap from the couch and snap the television off. I run to the basement door and shut it tightly. I’m breathing heavily by the time I reach the top of the stairs, wheezing from athsma. I continue through the kitchen as I snatch my book bag up from the table and bound down the hall into my room. I hear the sound of my stepfathers pickup door, slam shut. The dogs in the back kennel begin to bark. The dogs! I forgot to feed the dogs! Immediately, I dump the contents of my book bag onto my neatly made bed. I flip open a school workbook, laying a pencil across it. I slip out of my room and shut the door behind me. Stumbling down the basement stairs, I flee out the basement door to the dog kennels in the back of the house. I give each dog a pat as I tend to them. I return to my room, smelling of Purina dog chow, and wet dog hair. Kicking off my shoes, I hop onto my bed and posing myself, asleep with book and pencil in my hands. The barking of the dogs started up again, followed by a deep bellowing voice, "shaddup!" One by one, I could hear the cries of the dogs. One yelping in pain while the others snapped and growled. My stepfather’s voice rang above it all. "Shaddup!" I swallow, trying to quiet the dry, whistling in my chest and lungs as I hear the basement door squeak open and slam shut. His footsteps pound up the stairs; pausing in the kitchen. I can hear the wooden heels of his cowboy boots across the linoleum. ""ka-thud, ka-thud," closer they come, down the hall towards my room. "Say?" He says as he stands in the doorway to my bedroom. Whenever he starts a conversation with that word, I know there will be trouble. "What is this out here?" Groggily, I slide from my bed and follow him out to the kitchen, where I am faced with my muddy shoe prints, tracked across the kitchen floor. This was no more or less painful than any normal beating. My eyes sting with tears and the insides of my cheeks bleed from my own teeth biting down on them. I fall asleep that night, still in my school clothes. I wake up briefly when headlights flash across my bedroom window to tell me that my mother is home. I glance at my clock, -9:30. I can smell her perfume and I hear her voice, in the kitchen. I sob harder and curl up into a fetal position to quiet myself until my sobbing draws me into a numb sleep. |
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(1981, Copyright, 2000 by Tara Peterson) © |
