Author's Note: Please be advised there will be some violent descriptions and profanity in this chapter. This event takes place in Summer 1983. Use your best discretion when reading this chapter.
Chapter Three: Running Up That Hill
Towards the end of ninth grade, he started going out to the bar after work. When he finally stumbled into the house around 10pm, he would smell like cheap whiskey and perfume. While his stepmother, Susan, never commented on Neil's antics, he saw the expression on her face every single time his dad entered the home in his inebriated state. It was clear she kept her thoughts to herself because Neil was the sole breadwinner of the family. Without him, she, and the rest of the family for that matter, wouldn't be able to afford their lifestyle. His father wasn't always like that. There was a time he was actually a good dad. The more successful he became, the worst his behavior was.
On one occasion, Neil returned home in a belligerent state. It was a Thursday night in the summer. Billy was sitting on the couch with his stepsister Max when his dad came barreling into the house. He grabbed the mop bucket from the hall closet and immediately vomited in it. Loud retching and heaving seemed to echo throughout the entire house. For the first time since behavior similar to this became a regular occurrence, he witnessed his stepmother exit the loveseat she was sat comfortably in and go into the foyer to greet him. In the interest of being discreet and to attempt to shield the children from the clear disaster that was their lives, she spoke in urgent, but hushed tones to her husband. She pleaded with him to stop behaving like this, even if only for the children.
"Fuck you and fuck the children," slurred Neil while still holding onto the bucket. "This is my fucking house and I will do as I please."
"Please, Neil. They can hear you."
"I don't care if they can hear me, Susan. Maybe you should hear me. I pay for this house. I pay for you to do your hair and to wear that stupid make-up. I pay for those kids school clothes. I pay for everything. You are nothing without me." The words were laced with pure contempt.
Susan's voice cracked as she forced out her response. "Please, Neil, this isn't you. You love me, your love our family. Please stop behaving like this."
By this point, both Billy and Max were sneakily peering around corner into the room where their parents were having their altercation. They knew they weren't supposed to be eavesdropping, or witnessing it, but they couldn't help it.
No longer needing his vomit receptacle, the man placed it down on the floor and went to pass by Susan. When he did so, he shoulder checked her, and hard.
An audible grunt passed her lips as she rubbed her shoulder. This was as bad as it had gotten and that was saying something. It was the first time there was a physical altercation.
"Stop where you're going. I don't want the kids to see you like this." She murmured carefully and quietly. "Let me put them in their bedrooms and then you can go to bed."
With one fluid motion, the back of his band connected with her cheek with a thwack. "Now listen here, bitch. You are going to stop telling me what to do in my own house. Maybe the kids should see me like that. They'll appreciate me even more."
Now, that didn't make much sense, but Susan was too busy rubbing her stinging check to offer a rebuttal.
"You keep your hands off of her!" Young Billy called out to his dad, emerging from the living room.
"No, Billy, honey, go to your room," Susan pleaded with him, fear in her eyes.
Susan was a kind woman. She had been supportive of him ever since she came into his life. When his mom died, Billy struggled. Susan helped him cope. He truly believe she loved him as much as she loved her own child. At first when she was brought into his life, he was unsure about her. No one could live up to his mother. That was still true as his mom was the most amazing woman. As far as stepmothers went though, the one he had now was, without a doubt, the best it could get.
His father laughed heartily. "No, no, it's fine, Billy wants to be a man. Let him be a man." It was like a challenge and Billy wasn't about to turn it down.
"You're a drunk, dad. And you're treating your family like shit." Billy wasn't typically one to swear, especially at his father, but this was an extenuating circumstance.
"Keep talking, Billy. And I'll slap the shit out of you, too."
He, unfortunately, knew his father meant it. But if it meant neither Susan nor Max took the brunt of his aggression, then wasn't it worth it? "Is that what you're going to do, dad? Really? Why don't you just admit that you're not upset with us? You're just unhappy with yourself for whatever reason. It's bull…"
Before he could even finish his thought, his father's open hand connected with his slender cheek with an echoing "slap!". Despite the fact he knew it was coming, it was still somewhat surprising that his father had actually gone through with the act of aggression. As badly as it stung, Billy refused to show weakness to his father.
"Do it again!" He commanded, straightening his shoulders as though he was trying to toughen up and prepare for another painful blow.
This was the first time Neil had struck his son. Sadly, it wasn't the last. Hitting Billy had become a sort of stress relief for the father. The abuse wasn't common enough that it was a daily, or even weekly occurrence, but it did happen more than it should have. Max, unfamiliar with that kind of aggression, became frightened of Neil. Susan did her best to care for Billy and try to distract her husband whenever he was in a bad mood. Being timid for too long had caused their family more harm than good. As their mother, it was her job to provide a safe, loving home for the kids. Sometimes her husband disturbed the peace, but, more often than not, they were at least a presentable family.