I spent the rest of the afternoon at my favorite place; the cubby in the basement of the towns library.
My mother had worked as a librarian while I was growing up. I was so small then she had to bring me with her most days. When she had her breaks, she'd make hot cocoa and we'd curl up on my favorite blue rocking chair and she'd read me a book.
I sat in that rocking chair now, and I longed for her warm touch.
My mother was beautiful. She was warm and kind, and had a bubbly light personality. I remember the way I felt when I was with her; like I was home, and safe. nothing could hurt me. There wasn't a day I wish I could go back to those days.
Ms. Grey, the old woman who runs the library, knew my mother well and continued to allow me to come and hang out in my favorite chair when mom was gone.
I had just finished reading my favorite book, the Outsiders for the fourth time. felt the crinkled edges of the pages as I thought to myself.
I thought about my dad, and how he used to be when mom was still here. He was so happy. He loved to dance around the kitchen and laugh and joke, and he had a good job as an architect that he loved. he came home every night with a hug smile on his face and a dance in his steps.
Everything changed when mom died. I was 9 years old. My mom and I were on our way home from the library. we were singing along to the radio, and she wasn't paying too much attention to the road. an older man didn't see the red light, and hit the drivers side of the car, killing her almost instantly. I came out barely touched.
And dad never forgot it.
Dad stopped going to work. he started drinking, and when he drank he got sad at first. He cried all night and I'd wake up to him asleep on the living room floor clinging to moms picture.
"Hey sweetie. You hungry? I got an extra sandwich here if you want it," Ms. grey had startled me, but I was happy to see her. "Sure that sounds great. Thanks, Ms. G."
I watched her hobbled back up the stairs as I munched on my sandwich. Ms. Grey fed me almost every day at the library. thank god she did; of it weren't for her and Casey, I'd have starved to death years ago.
I picked up a copy of "silence", a novel ms. grey had given me about a girl with a troubled family. I began to read it, but my mind was too full to concentrate anymore. I couldn't get my mind off my dad.
Things had gotten better for me when dad met thayer's mom. He started coming home lighter, and less drunk. When she moved in I was happy; it was like having a mom in the house again. She made meals for us, and cleaned. Things started to get bad again after Thayer was born. Bills started adding up, and dad felt the pressure and quit his job, hoping to find better one. He and Thayer's mom forgot constantly about money, until one day when Thayer was 3 she packed her things and left.
That's when things got worse. Dad started drinking even more, and without Thayer's mom, I was stuck taking care of a toddler when I was just a child myself. The abuse started a little while after I hit puberty. I wonder if it's because I look like mom.
All I know is he can't stand me. I'm a walking punching bag. But if I tell, what will happen to Thayer? I've heard the horror stories in school about foster care. they separate siblings. they abuse kids. I couldn't let him through that.
I got up to throw my paper plate away. I stopped at the small desk by the trash, it still had a framed picture of mom. She was so elegant. so strong.
She would never let anyone hurt her. I wish I could've been like that.
I sat back down on the chair and opened up the book again to try to read.
..
"Sandra? honey?"
I awoke to find Ms. Grey standing over me, softly shaking me. I had fallen asleep.
"It's closing time, dear. I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back tomorrow. don't worry, this chair isn't going anywhere."
I got up and slipped my sweater and boots on, and walked up the stairs and out into the cold. it was dark now, but the rain had finally stopped.
while walking the 6 blocks home, I realized I'd have to apologize to Casey tomorrow. I didnt know how I was going to explain to her why I got so upset. I wish I could just tell her what he did. I wish I could just tell anyone what he did.
One more year. One more year and I'll be free from him. But when will I be free from dad?