I was sitting on the floor of our living room, playing with my Barbie dolls. Momma sat with Emily on her lap, reading us the story about the caterpillar that never got full. I was six at the time, my sister was two. It was a late Saturday night and Uncle Rob wasn’t home yet. Uncle Rob was Momma’s boyfriend, but he wasn’t my daddy. I don’t remember my daddy much; Momma says Daddy moved to heaven before Emily was born. I used to ask when he was coming home but all Momma would say is,
“It’s a big girl thing, Jenny. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Emily was starting to fall asleep, and my eyes were getting heavy. A light poured through the window and Momma stood up. It wasn’t until we heard the roar of the engine that Mamma looked worried. She shoved the book under the couch, the same for my dolls.
“Jenny, take your sister upstairs and stay in your room!” I grabbed Emily’s hand and dragged her upstairs. The bedroom door closed in unison with the front door slam. Uncle Rob was home. Emily and I hid in the closet, staying quieter than silence itself. I heard Uncle Rob yelling and covered my ears, but it didn’t help. His words seeped into my ears, their venom stinging my heart. The sound of several crashes floated through the crack under the door. Then silence, only to be broken with the sound of the front door slamming.
I must have dozed off, Emily’s hand still in mine, but the next morning I awoke in my bed. That afternoon I was helping Momma make soup for dinner. Momma’s eyes watered as she chopped unions, and Emily watched me peel potatoes. Uncle Rob walked into the kitchen and whispered something to Momma before walking out the door.
“Momma,” I said bravely, “Why don’t you tell on Uncle Rob for being so mean all the time?” At six years old it seemed like an innocent question.
“It’s a big girl thing Jenny. You’ll understand when you’re older.” she explained. Things only got worse after that.
It was the first day of the school year; I was nine, Emily five. Emily wasn’t happy about getting up so early, and was making a fuss.
“Momma, how come Jenny got new shoes for school and I didn’t?” She pouted.
“You needed clothes, Emily.” She called from the kitchen, “We’ll get you shoes this weekend.”
“Now hold on Carla. What’s wrong with those sandals she has on? Why should we waste money on something we don’t need?” Uncle Rob asked from his place on the couch.
“But they hurt my toes.” Emily whined. “And they give me blisters!”
“She needs shoes Robby.” Momma said flatly.
“Fine!” Uncle Rob turned to Emily, “But when we’re living under a bridge, eating whatever floats past in the creek, at least you’ll have nice shoes.” He said sternly. Emily’s eyes teared up and her lip was quivering. She sank into the chair and started bawling. I knew this couldn’t end well and sat as still and quiet as I could, hoping to stay out of it. “Stop your crying girl!” Uncle Rob screamed, he got up and stomped over to her. He grabbed both Emily’s arms and shook her vigorously. “I said stop crying.” I knew she couldn’t, though. She was to scared, so did what any five year old would do, cry harder. “Dammit girl, shut your mouth.”
“Momma!” Emily cried out. I didn’t dare to move, I just watched in horror and tried to disappear. Momma rushed from the kitchen and into the living room.
“Robby let her go!” Momma pleaded.
“She ain’t hurt, Carla.” he said, letting loose of Emily. Momma said nothing, she simply glared at him with a look scarier than any other. Uncle Rob stormed out the front door, but it wasn’t till we heard the truck drive off that Momma dared to speak. Emily’s sobbing had quieted, but sill wasn’t stopped.
“Emily go upstairs and see if any of Jenny’s old sandals will work for today.” she said without looking away from the door. Obediently, Emily got up and went up the stairs, still whimpering. Momma just stood there for a few minutes, staring at the door in deep thought.
“Momma,” I said, letting go of my attempt at invisibility, “why do you let him stay?”
“It’s complicated, Jenny. You’ll understand when you’re older.” Emily came down the stairs, settling on my old pair of flip-flops, and the two of us walked to the school. It was only a block away, so Momma just watched us from the front porch. I took her to her classroom, and I noticed that her arms were already bruising.
“Are you okay, Emily?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine.” She said. I left her with the teacher, and went to my own room.
For the next few months, Uncle Rob didn’t spend much time at the house, but when he did, he left Emily and I alone, barely acknowledging our presence. I thought that when Uncle Rob wasn’t around, that Momma would be like she used to. That she’d go to the park with us, or we could watch movies together, but she seemed even more distant then before. The only time she seemed normal, is when she would read bedtime stories to Emily and I. But then the unthinkable happened, Uncle Rod had his hours at work cut, which, unfortunately, meant he was home a lot.
It was a Friday, and Uncle Rob was supposed to be at work until six, which meant Momma would have been home. But when Emily and I walked through the door at three thirty, he was sitting on the couch, beer cans scattered all over the floor. The stench made us both hold our noses.
“Uncle Rob, where’s Momma?” Emily asked, her voice sounded muffled from her nose being clenched.
“That whore was supposed to be here an hour ago. Hey Shorty, do me a favor and grab me a cold one out of the fridge.” Emily and I both walked into the kitchen, knowing this was something we needed to stay out of. Emily had just grabbed a can out of the refrigerator when the front door slammed, making her jump and the can fall out of her hands. It bounced off a shelf on the fridge door before hitting the floor and spraying all over the both of us.
We could hear Momma yelling, so I shut the fridge and grabbed Emily’s hand, then we ran up the stairs as I’ve done so many times before. We retreated to our closet and try to ignore the yelling from downstairs.
I fell asleep, knowing that Momma would come upstairs soon. She’d put us in bed, and everything will be fine in the morning. But when I woke up, I could still feel Emily’s head on my shoulder. I figured I must have just dozed off for a bit, and I tried to go back to sleep. I couldn’t get comfortable, so I sat quietly, careful not to move to much and wake Emily. Silence rang through the house, which meant Momma would be there soon. I sat there and listened, trying to find any kind of sound, but I heard nothing. I listened for what seemed like hours, but I thought couldn’t be more than minutes or else I wouldn’t still be in there. I must have fallen asleep, because Emily shook me awake, with a flashlight on her face she had one finger to her lips, telling me to be quiet. She whispered one word that I wish I could unhear.
“Voices.” They came from the hallway, too muffled to understand. We never talked while we were in the closet, but we had never been this silent. The voices were getting closer.
“Check this room.” one of them said. The bedroom door was opened slowly, and footsteps became louder and nearer until they stopped right in front of us. The door yanked open, revealing a man in a blue suit. “Hey Boris, I think I might have found something.”
The funeral was small, mostly family. By this time every one but our grandparents had left, leaving Emily and I standing beside each other, gazing at the headstone covered in yellow tulips. We stood there; I was ten, my sister six.
“Jenny.” said Emily, looking up at me, “Why did she stay with him?”
“It’s a big girl thing Emily.” I said, grasping her small hand in mine, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
I liked this story, as I felt a connection with the main characters - while I didn't have an openly abusive step-father, I still know what it's like to wonder why my mother stayed with him even though my real father was still alive and in my eyes, better than the new man.
