"What…what are you doing?" I said, but I knew. He'd found that picture album even though I hid it. Even though this dark room was supposed to be mine. He still found it. He hit me with it, and I was scared of him. Scared of that look in his eyes, that tone in his voice, scared of that anger that had a sort of energy, and there was no way to stop it.
After, laying on the floor in the dark room, I cried even though I didn't want to. It wasn't just that my ribs hurt and my stomach hurt because he kicked me. It was that but also it was…he was my father and this…this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen.
The floor was cold down here but it felt good, it was soothing. I didn't want to get up. I'd just lay here on the floor and cry. The tears kept coming.
He was upstairs somewhere. He'd left me alone and it was over, I knew that in a way. But in another way I was scared to go upstairs because what if he was still mad? I was too hurt to run. What if he hurt me worse? It didn't matter. Not really. Not anymore. Who cared? So I went upstairs, slowly, because those kicks had hurt me. It hurt to breathe. I hung on to the railing going up the cellar stairs and I hung onto the railing going up the stairs to my room. I still didn't see him. Good. In my room I locked all the locks on my door even though if he knew I locked him out like that he'd get…mad…again.
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I watched Craig run off like a nut and I was still shaking. If I hadn't grabbed him and pulled him off those tracks that train would have hit him for sure. It almost hit both of us. The light was starting to fade and I watched the dust that was still kicked up in the distance from where Craig had run. He was running away. His father hit him. I saw that look in his eyes when I asked him. I wasn't a fool.
I had to help him somehow. I didn't know how. Some responsible adult should be told but there didn't seem to be that many around. Emma might be a good place to start. She babysat for Joey's daughter, maybe he could help me find him. Yeah. I stood up, brushed the dust off, and headed for Emma's house.
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I held Craig and he wasn't just crying but sobbing in my arms. The moonlight reflected like crazy off the shiny tombstones, around the shadows of the tree leaves. It was so eerie here at night, standing on Julia's grave. Sean was off in the distance near the car, his head down. What was I supposed to do now?
"Okay, Craig, it's okay," he was shaking and I don't know if he really heard me. It's funny that people say it's okay when it gets pretty bad. It wasn't okay, I knew it, and if Craig was hearing me he knew it, too. But you had to say it, had to pretend for someone's sake that things were okay.
"Let's go now," I said, and led him to the car. He slumped down in the front seat, leaned his head against the glass. He'd stopped crying, pretty much, he just sucked in his breath like you do after an all out sob. Sean sat in the back, his head turned to look out the driver's side window. He didn't talk to Craig, I don't think he dared. What do you say? It's easy, at 14 you don't have to say anything. I was the adult here. Not only did I have to talk but I had to try and solve it.
At the house Emma met us at the door.
"You found him!" she said, then looked at him with wide eyes. He didn't look at her, just walked past her and sat on the couch. Sean stood near Emma and they looked at each other, and I read the silent communication. 'Was it bad?'-Emma. Sean-'Real bad,'.
"It's kind of late," I started, looking at Emma and Sean, "do you two want a ride home?"
"No, it's okay," Emma said, "we'll walk to my house and my mom will drive Sean home,"
I nodded and they left, said goodbye to Craig in small voices.
"Bye," he said tonelessly. The door clicked as they left. What was I supposed to do now? Craig's eyes were red from crying, he sat kind of hunched into himself on the couch. Angela said she'd seen today, all purple. Shit. I couldn't bring him back to Albert. Children's Aid? Maybe he could stay with me. Albert might fight it, he probably would. Those bruises would be proof that Craig couldn't stay with him, but I didn't want to drag Craig to the police station or a hospital.
"Craig," He looked up at me, didn't say anything.
"Craig, let me see," I said, pointing to his side. He let out a shuddery breath, closed his eyes, and pulled his shirt up so I could see. I sucked in my breath. Jesus. He let go of the shirt and it fell back in place, opened his eyes and looked at me.
"Do you want to stay with me?" I said.
"Yeah,"
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Craig was gone. The living room was in shambles. I barely remembered destroying the pictures and lamps and anything else that wasn't a major piece of furniture. He said I beat him. Beat him? I didn't. I lost my temper sometimes, I was impatient. I didn't beat him. It was no worse than the discipline I had received from my own father. No worse.
I sat at the kitchen table, the sun coming into the kitchen in squares, my glasses sitting on the table in front of me. Was it possible that Craig hated me like I had hated my father? At times I hated him, he was an angry man. If that anger was in me then…
I loved my son, more than anything in the world. The pressures of work got to me. I took it out on him, that pent up stress. He made me angry, too. He, when he deliberately disobeyed, when he was late, I got so angry I couldn't see straight. I knew he missed his mother and I felt the pressure of having to be both parents to him, having a successful career and being a successful parent and with Craig disregarding my rules…something had to give somewhere. Something had to give.
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"No, you two go ahead. I'll just stay here," I said, being brave, watching Craig lead Manny out onto the dance floor. He looked so good, rock star good, and I thought he liked me. Manny thought he liked me. But it was her all along.
Here I was, dressed up like Cyndi Lauper, my hair a mile high, my make-up put on with a butter knife, all to see Craig and for what? Nothing. Nothing was what I thought it was. My mother was going to marry Snake, Manny had Craig and where did that leave me? All alone. Odd girl out.
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Did he not know what he did? I stayed on the bed, too numb to move, and I could hear the people outside, their drunk voices. I could hear music, either from this room or outside I couldn't tell and something hurt…did Dean, did he…?
"Hey, Spirit, you were pretty good. Nails scratching at my back and everything. Kinky. I like that," I stared at him, watched him zip his pants, tuck in his shirt. My dress was still up around my waist. What did it matter? Apparently he could just do whatever he wanted to.
I wanted to leave this room, leave this party, go home and take a scalding shower that might last for days. I felt this odd mixture of sharp pain and numbness. Was Dean not actually aware of what he did?
"See ya later, Spirit," he said and walked out. I just laid there, my thoughts battering at my skull like live things, things that wanted to get out. I wanted to get out, crawl right out of my skin. My cheeks were wet. Funny. I didn't realize I had been crying. The party still went on, I could still hear it outside the door and outside the window. I yanked my skirt down my legs as hard as I could and it still couldn't cover me enough.
I stood up, my legs felt rubbery. The only light in this room was a lava lamp, the strange lava balls rising so slowly, breaking apart, falling again. I watched it for a long time, so long that I could barely make out the shapes through the dim light. I had to find Hazel and get the hell out of here.
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"Craig?" Angela said to me in her little sweet voice, "dinosaurs didn't really hurt you, did they?"
We were home alone, Joey was at work. I was just playing video games. It was all I did lately. Joey let me do whatever I wanted, well, it seemed like that.
"No," I said, hoping she'd drop it.
"Then who hurt you?" Of course she wouldn't drop it. She was five. Five year olds ran everything into the ground. But I couldn't lie to Angela.
"My dad,"
"Why?" I dropped the controller to the floor and the taxi on the screen ran itself into a wall.
"I don't know,"
"Is that why you came to live with us? Because he hurt you real bad?"
"Yeah," Drop it, Angie, please, I thought.
"I'm glad you came to live with us," she said, and kissed my cheek.
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Craig had been gone two months now. The house was quiet. I came home only to myself. He was right. I had an anger problem. I had…hurt him. But I could get into anger management. I could rebuild my relationship with him. I could change. I'd have to. I had to get him back. He belonged with me.
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I scrubbed and scrubbed and still I didn't feel clean. I heard his voice in my head just like he was standing in the room, "Hey, Spirit,". I could hear the shower spray hitting the tiled walls but I could still hear that party, the music and the conversations floating around in my head. I could still feel Dean's arms, the muscles rock hard, holding me down in that bed. That helpless feeling when he held me down and ripped open the condom, like I was speeding toward a crash that I couldn't stop, it hadn't happened but it would. I wondered if that feeling would ever go away.
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I shouldn't have taken that car, I knew that. I know it. And Joey had every right to be angry. The guys all took off when he yelled at them to. I hated this. He was glaring at me and yelling at me and I felt all shaky with fear like he was going to beat me. He wouldn't. I knew that in my head. It was like my body didn't know it and every time he yelled I flinched away from him.
"You're not my dad," I said, "why don't you really be like my dad? Go ahead. Hit me," If he was going to I just wished he would, just fucking hit me and get it over with.