I was inspired by the song "Hold On", by Wilson Phillips, to write this story. Physical abuse is a serious matter. If you, or anyone you know, is being abused by a spouse, partner, or any one else, please, tell someone. You don't deserve to be treated like this, and the longer you stay quiet about it, the worse it is going to get. Orginizations such as the The Family Violence Prevention Fund and The National Domestic Violence Hotline are there to help people who are in danger from abuse, including men, women, teenagers and children. People who care about you and your safety are willing to help, and all you have to do is reach out. Know that someone out there wants to help you, and know that there's always somewhere else to turn. You can do it.
The dust on the rusty jeep melted off as it traveled down Highway 41 in the heavy storm. The rain pelted the glass like coins as the windshield wipers struggled to keep up with its pace. The down pour wasn't letting up, coming down faster and faster. Six year old Blaine Anderson counted the seconds in between the ear shattering bursts of thunder and the fiery strikes of lightning in the distance. The clock next to the car stereo lit up as eleven thirty. When Blaine had gotten the car earlier that night, it had glowed ten twenty one. He wasn't very good at telling time; they'd just learned how to read a clock a few weeks before in Mrs. Rorrick's kindergarten class. But he had a feeling he and Mama had been driving for a real long time.
The gloomy sky was almost pitch black, save for the old jeep's headlights and the flashes of electricity in the horizon. Flash! went the lightning, and Blaine began counting once again. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, Boom! Only five miles away, that one. Blaine yawned, straining his small mouth into a wide "O". He stretched his arms over his head, and wiggled his legs. His feet had fallen asleep in his red Converse All Stars. Mama had called them "cardinal color, like the bird that sings outside the window in the morning." He wasn't really sure he knew what bird she was talking about, but he liked the way the birds talked. Singing was his favorite, talking being the next runner up. Mrs. Rorrick said he was a chatterbox, but he just had a lot to say.
After his feet had woken up again, he leaned back on the stained leather seat and rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses. He worked hard to keep them open, but his eyelids told him he was rather tired. He didn't understand all of why Mama had decided to take a vacation so close to his bed time. He'd been up in his room, watching Cinderella on the floor. She'd interrupted him in the middle of completing a puzzle of a pretty boy and giant yellow balloon.
He'd done the same puzzle a gazillion times before, because he liked the way the little boy looked once he'd finished. The other boy's hair was light brown, and had green eyes that matched his sweater. He wasn't very big, kind of lanky, but Blaine thought he had a beautiful smile. The first time he'd fully put together all the mismatched pieces, he'd told Mama that someday he'd awfully like to marry that boy. Mama had smiled oddly.
"Wouldn't you rather marry a princess, though, Blainers?" she'd asked, pointing to the Snow White VCR case on the carpet next to her.
Blaine had laughed at her idea, "But I want to marry the prince, silly. Like Ariel and Sleeping Beauty did."
Mama hadn't said much after that, and had just run her fingers through his wild black curls while he undid all his work and started over on assembling the photograph once more.
That was a long time ago, but Blaine still liked to do the puzzle sometimes. He didn't even have to look at the box anymore, because he'd memorized the boy's face. He occasionally wondered the name of the boy, and decided on Reilly. It was a lovely name, like one he'd read in his fairy tale books. Sometimes he took his favorite Ken doll that he'd stolen from one of his neighbor girls and pretended it was that he was Reilly. It depended on what kind of day it was when it came to creating Reilly's stories. When he was feeling excited, Blaine and Reilly would go on adventures, ranging from Indiana Jones' style jungle expeditions, to Lewis and Clark-like explorations of the Wild Frontier. When he felt sad, he pretended Reilly was a heroic prince going to save him, riding on a big white horse through dragon infested volcanoes and battles between the great warriors of Mulan. When Mama and Daddy screamed at each other downstairs, Blaine would pretend Reilly was his husband. Reilly would bring his flowers when he came home from work, and Blaine would kiss him like Mama and Daddy used to. Then he'd cook dinner in his Easy Bake oven, and they'd talk about their day at the kitchen table. Later, they'd go on a date, and Blaine would dress up in his church tie (Mama had told him not to, but he looked extra nice in it so he just kept it a secret) and Reilly would put on the jacket Blaine cut with curvy scissors from construction paper. At night, he'd put the Reilly doll next to his pillow, and they'd go to bed together, like married couples did. It always made him happy when he pretended to be wedded to the pretty boy on the puzzle, but he wasn't allowed to anymore, after he'd shown Daddy one evening.
"Look, Daddy! The pretty boy in the puzzle really can play with me," he excitedly explained to his papa, pointing out the stolen Barbie doll sitting stiffly on his arts and crafts table, propped up next to a minuscule slice of Easy Bake Oven pizza. "We're going to watch Finding Nemo together later, want to come with us on our date? You can hold onto Reilly's hand when the sharks come on. I know they scare you, but my husband is very protecting. He's a prince, you know."
Daddy's face hadn't turned into a grin like Blaine had been expecting, and had instead turned burning red, matching his cardinal Converse. "God ham it," Daddy had yelled, frightening Blaine so that he jumped and fell over in his knee crookedly. "Get in here, Amelia. Our boy's a key-er." Blaine didn't know what the last word meant, but he'd called Mama by her real name. He only did that when he didn't know Blaine was listening, and they were having Mama-Daddy time, or when he'd been drinking and was real mad. He tried not to, but wet tears started forming in his eyes, from Daddy's sudden screaming and his knee, which was starting to ache.
Mama had run up the stairs, and saw Blaine crying in pain on the ground. "What happened?" she asked, rushing towards him. Crouching down next to him, she lifted up his knee and extended it back to normal. "Are you alright, honey?" she'd whispered softly, putting her other hand on his face and rubbing his forehead. He'd weakly nodded, pointing to the purplish bruise quickly forming on the kneecap. "Oh, sweetie, it's going to be alright," Mama soothed gently. She'd looked back at Daddy, and told him that they'd "talk about this later". Daddy had huffed through his flaring nostrils like the angry cartoon bulls he saw on Bugs Bunny. Stomping, he stormed out of Blaine's bedroom.
Later that night, after Blaine had hit the Reilly doll under his bed and put the puzzle back in its worn out cardboard box, he could hear Daddy and Mama screaming at each other downstairs. In between their hollers, he could make out his name, and "other boys", and "wrong", "disgusting" "her fault". "This is why our boy doesn't ever talk about any of the other boys in his class; they're all afraid he's going to kiss them!" The sound of a hand hitting skin was heard, and seconds later Mama sobbing. After that, Blaine put his pillow over his ears and blocked the noise from his earshot. That was the last time he played pretend with the Reilly doll when Daddy was home.
Back in the car, Blaine was suddenly sad. After the Reilly incident, Daddy started coming home real late, after he'd been having beers at the bar. Most of the time, he could hardly walk straight, and came in staggering. He slurred his words, saying things Blaine couldn't understand that made Mama bawl and take Blaine out of the room. Slowly, Blaine started to stop loving Daddy. He made Mama cry, and was never at home anymore. When he was, he was full mouthed and rowdy. It had happened again tonight, but it was extra scary this time. Blaine hadn't been down in the living room when he walked in earlier that nightfall. He'd been working on the puzzle and listening to Prince Charming fall in love with Cinderella at the ball (Blaine pretended it was him Prince Charming was twirling about in his fancy suit, looking ravishing as he did). Usually Daddy was just mean when he came home drunk, but tonight, he sounded angry. Like he had after the Reilly incident, and many other nights following, Blaine heard his name over and over and over. The familiar sound of impact resonated through the walls, and Mama screamed at Daddy to stop, saying she was sorry. Suddenly, he heard a heavy body hit the ground, and then silence. Blaine stopped fiddling with the puzzle, and tried to listen hard. He could hear Mama panting, and Daddy snoring heavily. About 30 Mississippi's later, he recognized Mama's footsteps pounding up the stairs. She slammed open his door, something red pouring out of her nose. Her face had black streaks running down it, and her hair was disheveled, as if someone had taken ahold of it and tried to tear it out of her head.
"Hey, Blainey," she said, using the voice grown-ups used when they fake talked to little kids. "I haven't got to spend a lot of time with you lately, so how about you and I take a little vacation? Sound good, right, buddy?"
Blaine could see right past her pretend smile. He wasn't a baby anymore, and he could tell when his mama was lying to him. Mama didn't wait for an answer, and grabbed an empty pillowcase out of his closet. She began opening drawers, shoving in a few pairs of shirts, pants, pajamas, underwear and shoes. "Where we goin'?" he asked, looking up at her anxiously. The idea of a vacation seemed fun, but usually they took trips after weeks of planning and packing. This spontaneous adventure seemed a little far-fetched.
"You'll see when we get there!" she answered with artificial enthusiasm. "It'll be an adventure, won't it? Grab your backpack, and pack your toothbrush and any tapes of toys you want to bring. Alright? I'll go get the car started; meet me in the garage." She took off, throwing the pillowcase over her shoulder and running down the stairs.
Blaine unhooked his school bag from its hook on the wall, and hastily grabbed all his Disney films and the lid of his puzzle box. Taking the Ken dolls out from underneath his mattress and his copy of The Beauty and the Beast picture book, he bounded to the bathroom. After he'd gotten what he needed, he skidded down the stairs. He stopped at the foot of them, at the appearance of his father sprawled out on the floor, asleep. His chest heaved in and out as he breathed, a sight that mesmerized Blaine. Abruptly, his snorting turned into gagging, and his bloodshot eyes began to flutter open. Blaine sprinted out the door faster than he'd ever run in his life, holding his rectangular glasses to his face.
The car had already been started, and Mama pulled out the old jeep into the driveway. She unlocked the door when she saw him standing out in the cold dusk air, and he hopped in. the car wasn't stalled for long, and she immediately spun out of the cul-de-sac and took off down the road. Blaine locked himself into the back seat behind the passenger's side with the seat belt, and stayed unspeaking. Mama didn't open her mouth either, and all that was heard was the pair's breathing and the purr of the heater.
It wasn't long into the ride before the storm started. The wind was eerie, and the rain tapping on the window reminded him of drumming fingernails. It gave him chills down his spine. Counting the seconds in between strikes and rumbles gave him something to do besides sit and daydream. It was hard to imagine happy things while his mama tried to choke down her sobs in front of him, and the adrenaline from spontaneously tearing out of his home so quickly kept him from falling asleep.
The clock glowed ten twenty five. Blaine tried to break the silence, uncrossing his short legs and leaning forward in his seat. Wrapping his tiny hands around the handle on the back of the chair before him, he spoke to his mom. "You alright, Mama?" he queried, high voice concerned.
She sniffled, and looked over her shoulder at her son behind her. As if remembering he was in the car too, she cleared her throat and smiled flimsily. "Yeah, I am, now," she laughed half-heartedly, using her wrist to wipe her cheeks. "How about you, Blainers?"
"I am, too. When are we going to get there, though?" he replied, scooting to the edge of his seat so that he could look out the front window.
"A few minutes. Hope that's okay with you, sport. It's kind of boring, being in the car for this long, isn't it?" she mused, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. She took the wheel with her left hand, and extended her arm behind her so that she reached his little hands. Patting them, she smiled at him, making herself look strong and stable. It could have fooled him, had he not known his mother as well as he did. He wasn't good at making friends at school, regardless of how hard he tried to seem interesting and funny through endless conversations with himself. Mrs. Rorrick was the only one who ever listened to him, outside of his mama. Mama was his best friend, and he could see through her act. But because he loved her, he smiled back and nodded.
"How about we turn up the radio?" she suggested, letting go of his hand and turning to fiddle with the knobs on the sound system. The reception didn't come through well on most of the stations, and she had to search for a static-free channel. After seventeen Mississippi's she landed on a song Blaine didn't recognize.
"I know that there is pain, but you hold on for one more day and, break free the chains", a woman's pretty voice sang, and Blaine watched his mother's smile fall into a slack jaw. "Don't you know things can change? Things'll go your way, if you hold on for one more day." Her attention fell from her son, and wandered off somewhere he didn't know. After keeping her eyes clear for a few minutes, they filled up again. He wasn't really sure why this time. The song seemed laughing than crying to him. He didn't know what she was talking about, but he could tell Mama did, and she felt something mighty strong about them.
Three hundred and seventeen Mississippi's later, the song came to a close. The radio host chattered for a while, the hush in the car resuming to its former stillness. The beaten down jeep took a left after a while, into the parking lot of a dimly lit Holiday Inn. "Ready, Blainers?" she asked as she parked the car in an empty spot. The automatic lights in the car flicked on as the motor turned off. Only then could he see the enormous welt that had risen over her right eye, and the caked blood under her nose. He knew she hadn't fallen down the stairs, or hurt herself on a doorknob, like Blaine did occasionally. Blaine knew who the man was who'd done this to his mama. His heart started pounding at his horror of his daddy, even though he was gazillions of Mississippi's away.
The Reilly doll in the pocket of his backpack had his head poked out of the zipper. His painted on lips smiled at him, and Blaine smiled back. Turning back to his mother, he nodded. "I'm ready, Mama."
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