Chapter 37: Goodbye, Old Man
It was April of 1985 and Daryl Dixon was 16 years old. Melinda Dixon had been dead nearly eight years, long gone from Daryl's every day life and nearly gone from his memories too.
Merle had moved on too. His endless stints in juvenile hall, then later on, jail, had finally come to an end. Merle was trying his best to make something of his life and had almost finished his first year in the United States Army.
Daryl Dixon had just turned 16 years old the month before. He had dropped out of high school the year earlier and spent most of his days fishing, hunting and bumming around in town. For the most part things were normal for Daryl, even calm. Of course when they weren't normal and calm, when Wade Dixon went on a bender or found something to make him angry, he had no one but his youngest son Daryl, to turn his wrath on.
Of course neither Daryl or his pa had their lives together enough for the 16 year old boy to get his driver's license, but Daryl knew how to drive. His friend Davey Shipman taught him how to drive a stick shift and Daryl was a quick learner. As soon as he learned to drive, he began taking his pa's Chevrolet Apache pickup truck. He'd done it nearly a dozen times when he was confident that his dad was passed out drunk for the night.
Daryl should have known that his pa would eventually catch on. The teenager never got away with anything, and on the rare occasion he came across even an ounce of luck, it would run out as quickly as he found it. The day Wade Dixon finally caught on, Daryl got the worst beating of his life. It also happened to be the last beating his pa would give him.
It was around 7 PM when Daryl returned from fishing. He was cleaning his catch on the shack's front porch. He had hoped to cook the fish and go to bed before his pa got home but it didn't happen that way. As Daryl finished cleaning and gutting the last trout, he heard the truck's distinctive screeching noise as it ambled down the dirt road. His heart dropped into his stomach as soon as he spotted the headlights turning into the driveway
It was Friday night which meant two things: his dad got a paycheck, and he had been drinking at The Sit N'Bull most of the night. But tonight, he was home earlier than Daryl expected.
Daryl picked up his fish and took them inside to cook. By the time he came back out to clean up the rest of the mess, his pa was stepping out of the truck.
"Hey," Daryl said cautiously. "I was just about to cook up some trout. You want some?"
"Sure son, that sounds real good," Wade replied blithely.
Daryl was surprised by his father's calm, almost pleasant demeanor. Maybe he didn't have too much to drink at the grimy old bar. Maybe it would be a relatively good night. "I'm just gonna finish cleanin' up out here then I'll fry 'em up."
"That'd be real nice. Fresh trout sounds mighty good," Wade said as he walked to the front of the truck. "But before you fry that fish up, Son, why don't you come down here for a sec."
Daryl obeyed and moved submissively towards his father. "You need somethin' Pa?" Daryl asked.
Wade stared down at his son with a friendly smile. "Son, do you know what a odometer is?"
Daryl suddenly froze and said nothing. He was beginning to realize that his pa was not in any kind of good mood. He finally saw where this was all leading but had no idea how to answer. Daryl racked his brain for something he could say to his pa that would bring the least amount of backlash. Nothing came to mind and Daryl stood there paralyzed.
"Well ain't you gonna answer me?" Wade asked calmly as he looked at Daryl with a sinister grin, baring his yellow teeth. Daryl shrunk back in fear as his pa began to remove his belt.
"I...I think...," Daryl began to speak then choked on his own words. No matter how he answered the question, the answer would be wrong. He backed away and started to walk back up the stairs.
"Answer me, you stupid piece of shit," Wade growled, finally dropping the calm and friendly act.
"Y-y-yeah, I know w-what a odometer is, Pa," Daryl stammered again, trying desperately to keep the peace.
"You do huh? Well then you mind tellin' me how the hell you thought you were gonna get away with stealin' my truck when I can see with my own damn eyes that the odometer ain't the same as the last time I drove it? You think I'm stupid?"
"No," Daryl replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"You think I'm a fuckin' moron like you and your brother? You think I can't read a fuckin' odometer? You think I can't tell when someone's stealin' from right under m'damn nose?"
"I'm sorry Pa, I thought it would be okay to borrow it if you weren't usin' it."
But nothing Daryl could have said would have convinced his pa not to beat him. He reveled in doling out "a just punishment" for any misstep Daryl made. Wade Dixon was as addicted to cruelty as any of his other vices.
Daryl braced himself for what he knew was coming. He watched as his pa raised his belt above his head. He heard the leather strap whistling as it cut through the air. It made a loud crack as Daryl felt it slap painfully against his bare arm. The 16 year old boy turned and stumbled back up onto the porch. He crawled to the corner, cowering in fear as he covered his face with his arms and prepared himself for the remainder of the beating.
Wade Dixon viciously whipped his son with the belt. It slapped against Daryl's back, arms and head over and over again. The young boy crouched against the railing, waiting for the violent assault to end. He cried out in pain each time he felt the familiar leather strap whip across his skin. After a few moments, Wade stopped to catch his breath and slowly backed away from his son.
Daryl finally raised his head up just in time to see his pa step onto the pile of fish heads and entrails. The drunk maniac slipped on the slimy fish guts. Daryl watched as his pa's legs flew comically up into the air. Wade fell onto his back, then tumbled down the porch's four steps.
Daryl immediately stood up from the corner and ran to where Wade was lying on the ground. Without thinking, the teenage boy extended his hand out to help his pa up. But Daryl suddenly stopped. He looked down at his old man, crumpled on the ground in pain, and began to chuckle.
The chuckles turned into loud, boisterous laughter as Daryl watched him lying on the ground. His laughter continued as he began to yell. "Serves you right, asshole!" Daryl shouted. "Now who's the stupid piece of shit?"
Daryl held his side as he kept laughing. He didn't know what had come over him. He never dared to disrespect his father this way, cursing at him and mocking him. He didn't know why he was doing it but felt unable to control himself. Perhaps it was the way his father was lying on the ground. The 6 foot man always towered over him, threatening him with his stance alone. But the way Wade slipped and fell made him look so foolish, and then so small.
Daryl finally stopped laughing, but he didn't stop yelling. "You're the stupid piece of shit! You are!" he shouted, "I fuckin' hate you!" he screamed down at him.
Daryl pulled his leg back and propelled it into his pa's side. He kicked him repeatedly as he cried, cursed and shouted.
Wade Dixon took a beating of his own before he finally caught Daryl's leg and pulled him to the ground. As soon as his son was laid out, Wade climbed on top of him. He pinned Daryl's arms to the ground with his knees then pounded his fists into his face.
"Yr' gonna laugh at me huh?" Wade shouted. "You think that was funny? Well I think this is pretty funny. You steal my truck and then laugh at me?" he roared as he threw one punch after another onto Daryl's bleeding and swelling face. "You're a stupid, fuckin' bastard, Daryl! Stupid, worthless son of a bitch...can't do nothin' right!" The words rang in Daryl's head as Wade beat his fists into his face. Blow after blow until Daryl blacked out.
Daryl woke up on the ground later that night. He was unsure of how much time had passed but it was light outside when he fought with his pa and now it was dark. He was dizzy and in a great deal of pain, but he slowly pulled himself from the ground and stumbled into the shack. He looked through one eye and saw his pa passed out on his dirty, dingy recliner. He didn't think he would wake him up, but he crept passed him quietly anyway.
Daryl walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. He looked in the dirty mirror and saw his left eye completely swollen shut. He pulled his knife from his pocket and ran it under the faucet to clean the blade. He winced as he made a tiny incision under his eye. Blood quickly ran down his face and Daryl's eye started to open up. He washed the cut and the dried blood off the rest of his face.
Wade was snoring loudly as Daryl walked back out to the main room. He saw the bones of all three trout he caught, sitting on a plate on the TV tray next to the recliner. It wasn't bad enough to beat him into the ground, the son of a bitch ate all the fish Daryl caught too.
Daryl's blood boiled under his skin and tears welled up in his eyes. He stared down at his old man wondering how a father could hate his own blood the way he hated Daryl. He asked himself if he hated his pa the same way.
Daryl turned his attention to Wade's crossbow hanging on the wall next to the front door. He grabbed it and wasted no time loading an arrow into the barrel. Daryl pointed the weapon at his old man's head and rubbed his finger over the trigger thoughtfully. He wanted desperately to pull the trigger. He could do it. No one would care. No one would miss him for even one minute. No one would mourn him, especially Daryl. He could make the world a better place just by pulling that trigger.
As Daryl held his pa in his sights, he began to weep. He didn't have it in him to take his father's life. As much as his pa hated him, Daryl didn't actually think he hated him back. He lowered the crossbow as he continued to cry.
Maybe he couldn't kill Wade Dixon but he knew one thing for sure. He could get away from him. He would. Daryl set the weapon down and ran through the shack, grabbing up what little belongings he had and stuffing them into an old duffle bag.
Daryl went to his pa's jacket hanging on the back of the door. He rummaged through the pockets and pulled out Wade's wallet and the keys to the Apache truck. He looked in the wallet and thanked God that his pa had cashed his paycheck already. He pulled out nearly $250 dollars and stuffed it into his own pocket along with the truck's keys. He grabbed his jacket, duffle bag and his pa's crossbow and walked to the door.
Daryl had his hand on the doorknob when he turned around. He gave one last look to his pa. He stared at the old man and promised himself it would be the last time he laid eyes on him. You really are a piece of shit, Daryl thought to himself. You're gonna drink yourself to death and I ain't gonna be here when you do. You're gonna die alone and I won't even know cuz I'll be long gone. Daryl spit at his pa as he snored in the recliner then turned the doorknob and walked out. He got behind the wheel of the old Apache pickup and drove away.
Daryl never saw Wade Dixon again.
…..
That night, Daryl gave the pothead cashier at the Loaf and Jug, an extra twenty bucks to sell him and Davey Shipman a six pack of Schlitz and a bottle of Jim Beam. They took the truck to the river and drank all night then went back to Davey's house and passed out there.
Daryl awoke around 10 the next morning, while Davey still slept. Davey's mom was cooking breakfast and had already made Daryl a plate when he walked into the kitchen. "Well good morning Sunshine," Mrs. Shipman chirped . "How 'bout some breakfast?"
"No thank you ma'am. You don't need to go to no trouble for me."
"Ain't no trouble at all so don't be silly. Just sit on down, Daryl, and don't make me ask you twice." Daryl was starved so he didn't argue further and sat at the kitchen table. "You want some milk or coffee with that?" Mrs. Shipman asked.
"No thank you, the eggs and toast look real good," Daryl said as he dove into the food. "I appreciate you lettin' me crash here Missus Shipman. I'll be on my way as soon as I'm done eatin'."
"Well you can stay here as long as you want."
Daryl would have loved to stay. The Shipmans were as dirt poor as the Dixons but their home couldn't be more different. It was tidy, it was pleasant and Donna Shipman was as warm as the sun that shone through every clean window. But if Daryl was an imposition to his own father, he always figured he must be one to everyone else too. "That's real nice but I don't want to put you out no more."
"You're not puttin' us out," she said with a kind smile. " But if you gotta go, I can give you a ride anywhere you need."
"That's alright ma'am. I got my truck."
Mrs. Shipman sat down across from Daryl and looked him gently in the eyes. She poured Daryl a glass of milk and set it in front of him. Daryl looked at the glass of milk cautiously before finally picking it up. As he gulped it down he tried to remember the last time he had even drank a glass of milk.
"Sweetie," Mrs. Shipman began, "I'm afraid your daddy came and got the truck this mornin'."
"He was here?" Daryl asked in a panic.
"He was. He came poundin' on the door a few hours ago and started yellin' and screamin' for the keys and his money. I didn't want no fight with him so I looked and I found 'em in the pocket of your jacket. I gave 'em to him. I'm real sorry, Daryl."
"That's alright. It's his anyway," Daryl replied as he began to poke at his food mindlessly. "I hope he didn't cause too much trouble."
"It's okay, I'm a big girl and I've handled my share of troublemakers," she said as she smiled reassuringly.
Mrs. Shipman noticed the cuts and bruises on Daryl's face earlier but now she made no effort to try to hide her concern. She studied Daryl carefully then finally spoke. "Daryl honey," she began slowly, "did your - did your daddy do that to you?" she asked as she nodded towards his face.
Daryl froze. He didn't know what to say. No one asked him where all his bruises and black eyes had come from. Not even the few friends he had. His pa usually whipped him on the back and arms and those injuries and scars were much easier to hide. And when his pa occasionally did take the beating to his face, it was easy enough for most people to not notice...or at least pretend to not notice. Daryl was caught completely off guard by her questions.
"Honey, if your daddy did that to you, you could tell me. I could even call the police..." Mrs. Shipman saw in Daryl's fearful eyes that the police would be a bad idea. "Or I could not say nothin' to nobody."
Daryl nervously shook his head. "I-I-I got in a fight at school yesterday. But it wasn't no big deal. I'm fine now," Daryl replied as he began to fidget in his chair.
"Daryl I know you ain't been at school since last year," she said gently, aware that he was lying, but not wanting to embarrass him.
"I should actually get goin'," he said as he stood up.
"Oh don't go yet. I'm makin' a nice ham for dinner tonight. And you can stay here as long as you need to. I can make up the couch and you can stay...even for just another night."
"That's real nice Missus Shipman but I got to get goin'. My pa is probably real worried about me."
"Daryl honey, you alright? I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's okay. I'm fine."
Mrs. Shipman stared directly into Daryl's eyes. She gently put her hands on both his arms as she spoke to him. "I know what's goin' on. I know it wasn't no fight at school. Your daddy did this to you."
"Did Davey tell you that? Cuz he..."
"Davey didn't tell me nothin'. I put two and two together on my own. I'm just a little smarter than I look," she said with the slightest chuckle.
"Well my pa was just mad cuz I took his truck. He don't usually have a temper. He don't ever even really hit me," Daryl said, attempting to convince her. "He's just mad about the truck, is all. I'll be fine."
"Honey you ain't gotta lie to me."
"I ain't lyin'" Daryl argued defensively. But it was obvious she wasn't buying any of it.
"Okay, okay," Mrs. Shipman said nodding. "Tell me though, do you got a gramma or a grandaddy or some folks from church you can stay with for a couple days 'til things blow over?"
Daryl's leg shook as he looked around the room. He finally shook his head, no.
"Daryl honey, I want you to promise me somethin'," Mrs. Shipman said desperately. "If you won't stay here, at least don't go back home, okay? I don't know your daddy too well but if he did this to you, I don't think you should be around him. I don't want nobody thinkin' it's okay to hurt you."
Daryl held back his tears. It pained him that his secret was out. Now that Davey's mom knew what was going on, she probably thought he deserved it. She probably thought Daryl was a no-good piece of shit like his old man always said he was.
Daryl had never worked so hard to keep it together. Maybe he could tell Mrs. Shipman. Maybe she wouldn't think badly of him or that it was all his fault. She seemed so kind, so understanding. He wanted desperately to collapse into her arms and tell her everything. She would comfort him and hold him like his own mamma did. Maybe he could stay there and she could fix things for him or at the very least, smile at him and cook him eggs for breakfast.
How stupid, Daryl thought to himself. Nobody wants you. Pa came back for his truck but not you. You know what that means? It means you're worthless. He'd rather have that 25 year old piece of shit truck than you. And if your no-good, son of a bitch old man don't want you, what makes you think anyone else would?
Daryl stood up straight and backed away from Mrs. Shipman. "I really appreciate the eggs and lettin' me stay here last night. Tell Davey I'll see him around." Daryl hurried through the tidy little house. He gathered his belongings, slipped on his shoes and walked out the door.
…..
Daryl woke up the next morning. The sun was barely peeking out from behind the trees and Ruby lay on the seat next to him, breathing steadily with her head still resting on Daryl's lap.
Most of the dead had left the area as Daryl hoped they would. He looked around the cab of the truck and his chest tightened as he stared at the car radio. Sharp pieces of metal protruded from the radio that Daryl had taken his wrath out on the previous night.
Spending the night in the truck brought Daryl closer to his pa than he'd been in a long time. He replayed the events of the last day they saw each other. He replayed the beating in his mind. It felt nearly as painful as the day it had occurred. He remembered each part of it all so vividly.
Daryl's heart sank as he remembered how hurt he was that his pa came for his shitty truck but never once looked for Daryl again. He knew that his old man never came looking for him because if he had, he would have found him. Daryl spent at least the next dozen years just rambling around in the surrounding towns, working odd jobs, stealing, begging borrowing and chasing Merle after his dishonorable discharge from the army. He always expected his pa to show up somewhere in his life again, but he never did.
Daryl thought about his own children and tears immediately formed in the corners of his tired eyes. He ached for his babies and their mamma. Had Connie gotten them safely to Alexandria? It would have been a long and dangerous journey, but he knew exactly how tenacious and strong his other half was, especially when it came to her babies.
He thought of Ella, his sweet little girl, who had run into his arms and hugged and kissed him every day since the day she could move. She had a hundred questions each day and Daryl found himself with such excitement and satisfaction in giving her the answers. She was his baby girl, his sidekick, his pupil, his friend. Ella was his Sunshine.
And James...his precious, baby boy. The perfect newborn hadn't even been in Daryl's life a week but the love he felt, the desperate need to protect the tiny, vulnerable life, stirred his heart inside his chest.
Being their daddy was by far the most meaningful and important role Daryl had ever had. He never would have dreamed how life-giving it would be for him, to give them life. God had somehow entrusted this simple man with this family and now he had failed. He didn't know if they were safe because he wasn't around to protect them.
Daryl's pa was right. He was a failure. "You're a stupid, fuckin' bastard, Daryl! Stupid, worthless son of a bitch...can't do nothin' right!" Wade Dixon's gruff, ugly voice echoed between Daryl's ears again. His words cut through Daryl as sharp now, as when his pa shouted them at him 38 years ago. How could he have let this happen to his Connie, Ella and James? How could he have let them down so miserably? Daryl wasn't with his family. He wasn't there to take care of them. Was he any better than his old man?
Daryl stared at the car radio again. He stared at the broken dials and knobs, studying the white numbers he could still make out on the dials. No, he thought to himself. No. I ain't nothin' like him. I ain't never been like him and I never will be. Pa didn't love you but who gives a shit? You love your family. You'd do anything for them. You'd go to hell and back for Connie and them babies. You'd die for them!
Daryl kicked the heel of his boot into the radio one last time. What the hell you doin' feelin sorry for yourself right now when you should be fightin' to get to them?
Daryl swung open the rusty truck's door and climbed out. He wrapped his hands underneath Ruby's chest, pulling her out and swiftly lifting her over his shoulder. He wasted no time as he marched swiftly towards Alexandria, each step taking him closer to his family.
A/N: I will warn you, this is going to be a long A/N, but sharing these parts of my life with my readers has been extremely therapeutic for me and I have found that I just have to get things off my chest sometimes. Writing in this forum has given me the opportunity to create stories that I have easily been able to relate to my own pain and experiences. This has been a safe and good place for me to do that and that's because of you. Thank you for letting me trust you with my heart and my past. I love you for it!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and appreciated the glimpse of what I thought life would have looked like for poor, sixteen year old Daryl Dixon. This chapter was close to my heart. I know a lot of you know part of my story but this is something I haven't shared.
In chapter 38 of Flesh and Bone, my first fic, I shared about my absolute saint of a mother. She was born blind, had 9 kids, then became a single mom when my dad divorced and left her to raise us by herself. She is 82 now and just an incredible person! She plays piano for church and nursing homes, exercises every day. She reads her Bible and prays for literally hours a day. She's more like Jesus than probably anyone I know. She is my hero and I love her in ways I can't even describe.
In chapter 13 of this story, I also talked a lot about the sexual abuse I endured as a child. I don't have the energy to drudge all of that up, and the details aren't the important part of it anyway. The short of it was that the abuse happened, it did some damage, I overcame it, and have had a life of real joy and purpose. The overcoming, joy and purpose are a direct result from my relationship with the Lord Jesus.
Something I haven't really shared about was the abandonment I faced from my own father. My dad left our home when I was 2 years old. I was the baby of nine and I can't imagine what it was like for my mom to take care of me and all my siblings with almost no help.
Things really fell apart when my dad left us. There was sexual abuse in our house, pornography, drugs, drug dealing, several robberies, break-ins and a rape. My brother got his girlfriend pregnant and two of my sisters became pregnant themselves. We were poor and pretty helpless to do anything to change our circumstances. It was unbelievable how bad things got when he left.
I really believe if my dad hadn't left, most of these things would have never happened. I don't think I would have experienced the sexual abuse I did.
How could my dad have abandoned us this way? How could he have turned his back on his own flesh and let his children go through all that? I've asked myself those questions many times but I've never come up with a satisfying answer. I just know, as a mother, NOTHING could keep me from my three children. I would go to hell and back for them.
My dad is 83 now and is not very close with his 8 living children. I have completely forgiven my dad the same way my Father God has completely forgiven me. I still have a relationship with him. It's distant but there is genuine love there.
But the point of this isn't to talk about how terrible my dad was, or the mistakes he made or even the effects of those mistakes. The point of me sharing this is to tell you how wonderful my Father God is! The Lord has never left my side. I've never once felt abandoned by Him. Even when I went through some very dark times, I knew my Heavenly Father was near. For as far back as I can remember, I've known God has been with me. I've never doubted His love and I know that He is the reason I have joy and hope in my life!
If you are reading this, and there is something missing in your life, I want to encourage you to reach out to the Lord Jesus. If you felt abandoned by a father, a mother, a husband, wife, or anyone else, please know that God is there waiting for you. Maybe you feel like God was the one who abandoned you. He didn't. He is here for you right now! He loves His precious children and wants to be present in our lives. Call out to Him! If you're not ready to do that but you want to know more about the Lord Jesus, please reach out to me. If you ever need to talk, I am here. Just message me and I will listen with no judgment...only love.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you for letting me share my personal story with you. More than that, thank you for listening to me talk about how wonderful my Father God is! Nothing could ever stop me from doing that! Love and blessings to all of you!
"I will always thank the LORD and I will never stop praising him! I will praise him for what he has done! May all who are oppressed listen and be glad! Proclaim with me the LORD's greatness and let us praise his name together!I prayed to the LORD, and he answered me. He freed me from all my fears.Find out for yourself how good the LORD is. Happy are those who find safety with him."
Psalm 34:1-4, 8