Dirty
Keys
By
April Thompson
Fiction
For a
man who had just lost a fight with a freight train, he didn't look
too bad. Although peaceful, he still had that permanent scowl set in
his eyebrows. His hair was the same, short and still had patches of
gray strands, signaling his old age to take over. His hands were
callused from whatever it was that he did all day. I know it wasn't
work. That was mom's job.
He was
such a wicked man. An abusive, drunk was all I knew him to be. He
only laughed when there was pain and God forbid if any of us found
joy at his expense. Now, there was nothing he could do about it. I
was finding joy in his passing. The monster that had haunted and
tortured my siblings, mother and myself was dead and he went out exactly
like he should have. Even though his death was fitting, I still felt
sadness in my heart. He was horrible, but I owe every good thing in
my life to him.
“I
hate you.” I said under my breath. “But, thanks.”
Part
One
As a
child, I hardly even remember my father. He was constantly out
drinking or out with his friends. When he was home, I was sleep or at
school or a friends house. My older sister Corine would tell me about
how bad it was at home. I used to hear horror stories from her and
she would make sure to warn me to "stay away until he leaves.”
Once she told me that dad came home in the afternoon when I was at
school, screaming and yelling about mom denting his truck. Mom, who
was a notorious hot head, yelled right back at him. A woman who
barley weighed in at 120 lbs and was the height of a middle school
student, stood before him as if she were a 7 foot tall man. Our
father had a saying in our house which applied to everything. That
saying was, "You act like something, You get treated like
something." Basically that meant that if you act like a dog, you
get treated like one. You act like a baby, you get treated like one.
You act like a man, you get your ass knocked down like one. So, my father
responded to my mother's bravery as he would have to a man's bravery.
I guess you already know what happened then. They fought as if they were in a boxing match and the referee had just announced round two. Of course the sheriffs were called and my dad had to leave but mom always let him come back. Getting her ass kicked on a daily basis was never enough to make her leave and obviously it wasn't enough to make her lock him out for good.
I guess you already know what happened then. They fought as if they were in a boxing match and the referee had just announced round two. Of course the sheriffs were called and my dad had to leave but mom always let him come back. Getting her ass kicked on a daily basis was never enough to make her leave and obviously it wasn't enough to make her lock him out for good.
As mean as he was to her, he was just as mean to us kids. I was hardly ever at home because of the fear he radiated. Sometimes, no matter how hard I tried to stay gone, it was inevitable that I'd run into him. One day when I was 13,
I skipped School. It was one hell of a storm so I couldn't go to the
creek like I usually did. Instead, and regrettably, I decided to go home. I knew mom was
still at work and Corine and my little brother, Luke, were at school. My father should have been at his construction job or off with some other woman. I should have had the house to myself, but I was wrong.
It was raining, the wind was beating the house like it was an old dusty rug, and lightening and thunder made the world sound like it was coming to an end. I ran through the back door to escape the storm. I didn't realize I wasn't alone until I heard a deep voice come from behind me.
"Damn! You know for awhile I thought I only had two kids. Where you been?" My dads voice sent a shot of fear through me.
"I ...What?" Was all I could say.
My dad looked at me as if I were stupid.
"Ain't you supposed to be at school?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm going back right now." I quickly responded as if I were answering a military Sargent. There was no storm in the world that I feared more than my dad.
"Wait, Sammy! Come back in here! You ain't going no where in this storm. Just sit down." My dad shot back at me with a little chuckle.
Mind you, in my 13 years of life I hardly ever looked my dad in the eye, and I never sat and had a conversation with him. It felt as if I were in another house with strangers. Just my eyes desperately scanned the room for a spot to sit. A million thoughts raced through my head. "Should sit on the couch next to him or should I sit across the room? I don't want to be rude and sit far away as if he were contagious or something. We lived in a very large country home so there was more then enough room for the both of us. But still I couldn't decide where to sit. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable or mad but still I..."
"For the love of...will you just sit down!" My dad shouted, interrupting my thoughts.
Without thinking I grabbed the first seat I saw which was at the piano. The piano was a family heirloom. It belonged to my great, great, great, grandmother. I never played it or any other instrument before. The only time I ever tried to play it my mother yelled at me and told me not to touch it cause it was an antique.
I sat there on the bench with my arms folded in my lap, praying for time to speed up and for my mom to return home. I took a quick glance at my dad, who was giving me a look like I was a martian from outer space.
"You a piano prodigy or something?" he asked sarcastically.
I just looked at him, unsure of how to respond.
"Whats your name? Betoov... Batehoven..." he stammered.
I giggled at his inability to say Beethoven. Then I realized what I had just did. I laughed at my father. Fear suddenly gripped me. My short, stupid life flashed before my eyes, but then I noticed the look on his face. Reminisce had spread across his face and for probably the first time ever, he smiled at me.
"You smile just like my mom used to" he said.
Suddenly, he stood up and walked towards me.
"You ever play that thing before?" he asked.
"No" I sheepishly replied.
"Move over." he said, holding a lit cigarette between his teeth.
I scooted over and my dad sat next to me. He grabbed my hands and placed them on the keys.
"Now, see where your thumb is at? That's called middle C. The next is D, then E and it goes all the way up to G and then it starts at A again. Get it? ABCDEFG. Now play from A to G." he instructed.
I did as he told me to and I didn't dare mess up.
"Wow you actually learned something." he said in a cruel tone.
I didn't know whether I should be offended or proud of myself. I was just mostly happy he didn't knock me into next week for laughing at him.
(To be continued)
It was raining, the wind was beating the house like it was an old dusty rug, and lightening and thunder made the world sound like it was coming to an end. I ran through the back door to escape the storm. I didn't realize I wasn't alone until I heard a deep voice come from behind me.
"Damn! You know for awhile I thought I only had two kids. Where you been?" My dads voice sent a shot of fear through me.
"I ...What?" Was all I could say.
My dad looked at me as if I were stupid.
"Ain't you supposed to be at school?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm going back right now." I quickly responded as if I were answering a military Sargent. There was no storm in the world that I feared more than my dad.
"Wait, Sammy! Come back in here! You ain't going no where in this storm. Just sit down." My dad shot back at me with a little chuckle.
Mind you, in my 13 years of life I hardly ever looked my dad in the eye, and I never sat and had a conversation with him. It felt as if I were in another house with strangers. Just my eyes desperately scanned the room for a spot to sit. A million thoughts raced through my head. "Should sit on the couch next to him or should I sit across the room? I don't want to be rude and sit far away as if he were contagious or something. We lived in a very large country home so there was more then enough room for the both of us. But still I couldn't decide where to sit. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable or mad but still I..."
"For the love of...will you just sit down!" My dad shouted, interrupting my thoughts.
Without thinking I grabbed the first seat I saw which was at the piano. The piano was a family heirloom. It belonged to my great, great, great, grandmother. I never played it or any other instrument before. The only time I ever tried to play it my mother yelled at me and told me not to touch it cause it was an antique.
I sat there on the bench with my arms folded in my lap, praying for time to speed up and for my mom to return home. I took a quick glance at my dad, who was giving me a look like I was a martian from outer space.
"You a piano prodigy or something?" he asked sarcastically.
I just looked at him, unsure of how to respond.
"Whats your name? Betoov... Batehoven..." he stammered.
I giggled at his inability to say Beethoven. Then I realized what I had just did. I laughed at my father. Fear suddenly gripped me. My short, stupid life flashed before my eyes, but then I noticed the look on his face. Reminisce had spread across his face and for probably the first time ever, he smiled at me.
"You smile just like my mom used to" he said.
Suddenly, he stood up and walked towards me.
"You ever play that thing before?" he asked.
"No" I sheepishly replied.
"Move over." he said, holding a lit cigarette between his teeth.
I scooted over and my dad sat next to me. He grabbed my hands and placed them on the keys.
"Now, see where your thumb is at? That's called middle C. The next is D, then E and it goes all the way up to G and then it starts at A again. Get it? ABCDEFG. Now play from A to G." he instructed.
I did as he told me to and I didn't dare mess up.
"Wow you actually learned something." he said in a cruel tone.
I didn't know whether I should be offended or proud of myself. I was just mostly happy he didn't knock me into next week for laughing at him.
(To be continued)
Copyright © 2012 by April Thompson
All rights reserved. No part of this writing may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the Author.
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