Part
Three
The
living room and kitchen were packed. Drunk and high faces stared at me as fear grew in my chest. Some of them looked at me like they
felt sorry for me and the others didn't care at all. I looked at my mother who had
this annoyed look on her face, but not one shred of pity could be seen in her eyes.
"Play!" My dad ordered.
A couple of his friends laughed and my dad got this look pride on his face. I looked to my mother in hopes that she would intervene, but she did nothing. As I tried to calm myself down I thought maybe he's just trying to show how well I played, and maybe, just maybe he's not trying to hurt or embarrass me. So, I sat at the keys and began to play. I decided to go with an easy song, so that I wouldn't crack under the pressure. Stand by Me by Ben E King was the first song that came to mind. It was also the last song my father had taught me how to play. I was doing good, until I let my piano playing skills go to my head.
I was so impressed with myself that my brain started to move faster than my fingers. I ended up skipping a note and that threw me off completely. I panicked and tried to fix it but I just ended up making it worse. I sat there looking from my hands to the keys and desperately tried to fix my mistake. I began to shake and tears started to form in my eyes.
"It's okay, baby!" a woman with a strong Texas accent said to me.
I was too scared to look up and see who had spoke, but her words made me feel a little better about my failure. Unfortunately, my nerves settling only lasted for that moment. Before I could calm down completely, the piano lid came slamming down. By the grace of God I was able to move my hands before the lid slammed down and broke my fingers. I jumped back, knocking the piano stool over and onto the ground. My father glared at me, but then the glare turned into a cruel smirk.
"You just made me $50. Perry! Didn't I tell you she wasn't gonna get through the entire thing?!" Chuckled my father as did his friends.
My mouth dropped open and I looked over at my mom who for once showed concern for me. She stood wide eyed, staring at me. She couldn't even get two words to come out of her mouth. Seeing this and the looks of the other party goers made me upset. However, seeing my father laugh and joke at my expense, enraged me to the point where I didn't fear him anymore.
Lying on the floor next to the piano stool was an empty bottle of beer. Without even thinking about it, I picked it up and chucked it at his head.
"No!" my mom screamed as she grabbed my hand, sending the bottle slightly off course.
It hit wall beside his head and shattered.
"Get off me!" I screamed at my mother and her friend as they tried to restrain me. "What the fuck is your problem?!" I asked my dad.
This was the first time I had ever yelled my him. He turned in shock and asked me to repeat myself.
"Come again?" he calmly asked, turning his head so that his ear was facing me.
"I hate you." was all that came from my lips.
"You hate me? Damn, I would think you'd hate yourself after that half ass performance you just gave!" said my father.
The party grew silent and someone, out of respect, turned off the music. I felt myself loosing what little control of my anger I had. I wanted to hurt him, but I didn't know how and I wasn't violent like him so I wasn't going to physically harm him. Part of me wished that if I stared at him hard enough he would just disappear. The other part of me was hoping he would apologize for humiliating me and that he would admit to being a horrible father and promise to change.
That didn't happen. As soon as one tear fell from my face he laughed. I ran out of the house into the cold winter weather. I didn't even stop to grab my shoes or coat. My mother and her friend followed behind me. I got to the end of the drive when my mother stopped me. She and her friend stood with me and tried to calm me down and get me to come back inside, but I refused. I was standing at the end of the drive in nothing but my pajamas and the frost bite I was beginning to feel was worth it. Anything was better than being in that house with him. I wanted to just run and never stop. I didn't even care if rocks and plants tore at my feet as I ran to freedom. I just wanted out.
Suddenly the screen door flew open and out walked my father.
"Go back inside!" My mom ordered.
Of course he didn't listen. He marched right past mom. He even shoved her and her friend aside to get at me. Before we knew it or before anyone had time to stop it, my father and I lost it. We had it out with each other for nearly fifteen minutes. We kept having to be pulled back from each other during our screaming match, and both of us threw threats and too many cuss words to count. He even raised his hand to slap me, but my mother intervened.
I told him I didn't understand how he could be so good and bad at the same time and that he actually seemed like a decent person when he was teaching me. He then compared us to The Brady Bunch and made it clear that we were never going to be them. Even though I wasn't getting through to my father, it felt good screaming at him. When we finally ran out of insults, all I could think was, "I'm done, done with everything."
I couldn't even look at him anymore. As my father turned to walk back to the party which had now made its way outside to watch the fight, I stopped him with one last question. With a cracking voice I asked, "Give me...Can you give me a reason to stay? Just one. That's all I need. I need to know that its worth it."
My dad looked at me, still angry from the fight and said, "I ain't got to give you anything. You wanna leave?" he asked me. "Go! Nobodies stopping you." He was right.
"Play!" My dad ordered.
A couple of his friends laughed and my dad got this look pride on his face. I looked to my mother in hopes that she would intervene, but she did nothing. As I tried to calm myself down I thought maybe he's just trying to show how well I played, and maybe, just maybe he's not trying to hurt or embarrass me. So, I sat at the keys and began to play. I decided to go with an easy song, so that I wouldn't crack under the pressure. Stand by Me by Ben E King was the first song that came to mind. It was also the last song my father had taught me how to play. I was doing good, until I let my piano playing skills go to my head.
I was so impressed with myself that my brain started to move faster than my fingers. I ended up skipping a note and that threw me off completely. I panicked and tried to fix it but I just ended up making it worse. I sat there looking from my hands to the keys and desperately tried to fix my mistake. I began to shake and tears started to form in my eyes.
"It's okay, baby!" a woman with a strong Texas accent said to me.
I was too scared to look up and see who had spoke, but her words made me feel a little better about my failure. Unfortunately, my nerves settling only lasted for that moment. Before I could calm down completely, the piano lid came slamming down. By the grace of God I was able to move my hands before the lid slammed down and broke my fingers. I jumped back, knocking the piano stool over and onto the ground. My father glared at me, but then the glare turned into a cruel smirk.
"You just made me $50. Perry! Didn't I tell you she wasn't gonna get through the entire thing?!" Chuckled my father as did his friends.
My mouth dropped open and I looked over at my mom who for once showed concern for me. She stood wide eyed, staring at me. She couldn't even get two words to come out of her mouth. Seeing this and the looks of the other party goers made me upset. However, seeing my father laugh and joke at my expense, enraged me to the point where I didn't fear him anymore.
Lying on the floor next to the piano stool was an empty bottle of beer. Without even thinking about it, I picked it up and chucked it at his head.
"No!" my mom screamed as she grabbed my hand, sending the bottle slightly off course.
It hit wall beside his head and shattered.
"Get off me!" I screamed at my mother and her friend as they tried to restrain me. "What the fuck is your problem?!" I asked my dad.
This was the first time I had ever yelled my him. He turned in shock and asked me to repeat myself.
"Come again?" he calmly asked, turning his head so that his ear was facing me.
"I hate you." was all that came from my lips.
"You hate me? Damn, I would think you'd hate yourself after that half ass performance you just gave!" said my father.
The party grew silent and someone, out of respect, turned off the music. I felt myself loosing what little control of my anger I had. I wanted to hurt him, but I didn't know how and I wasn't violent like him so I wasn't going to physically harm him. Part of me wished that if I stared at him hard enough he would just disappear. The other part of me was hoping he would apologize for humiliating me and that he would admit to being a horrible father and promise to change.
That didn't happen. As soon as one tear fell from my face he laughed. I ran out of the house into the cold winter weather. I didn't even stop to grab my shoes or coat. My mother and her friend followed behind me. I got to the end of the drive when my mother stopped me. She and her friend stood with me and tried to calm me down and get me to come back inside, but I refused. I was standing at the end of the drive in nothing but my pajamas and the frost bite I was beginning to feel was worth it. Anything was better than being in that house with him. I wanted to just run and never stop. I didn't even care if rocks and plants tore at my feet as I ran to freedom. I just wanted out.
Suddenly the screen door flew open and out walked my father.
"Go back inside!" My mom ordered.
Of course he didn't listen. He marched right past mom. He even shoved her and her friend aside to get at me. Before we knew it or before anyone had time to stop it, my father and I lost it. We had it out with each other for nearly fifteen minutes. We kept having to be pulled back from each other during our screaming match, and both of us threw threats and too many cuss words to count. He even raised his hand to slap me, but my mother intervened.
I told him I didn't understand how he could be so good and bad at the same time and that he actually seemed like a decent person when he was teaching me. He then compared us to The Brady Bunch and made it clear that we were never going to be them. Even though I wasn't getting through to my father, it felt good screaming at him. When we finally ran out of insults, all I could think was, "I'm done, done with everything."
I couldn't even look at him anymore. As my father turned to walk back to the party which had now made its way outside to watch the fight, I stopped him with one last question. With a cracking voice I asked, "Give me...Can you give me a reason to stay? Just one. That's all I need. I need to know that its worth it."
My dad looked at me, still angry from the fight and said, "I ain't got to give you anything. You wanna leave?" he asked me. "Go! Nobodies stopping you." He was right.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment