Pop nodded his head as I kept talking. “Anyway, we finished up college, and then lived with his parents when Trix was born. She was so tiny, Pop. She was early, and there were all these problems. After she was born, I spent the first two months with her in the hospital. I rarely saw him, and we never saw his parents. He rarely came to see her even though he didn’t have a job and spent all day doing nothing. It was weird, but I really didn’t care, ya know? ’Cause I had Trix taking up all of my energy.”
I stopped to take a shuddering breath. I had to just get this part over with. Just give him the story—no exaggerations, no emotion. Just get this shit over with. “He finally got a job up in Portland, so we moved up there. I’m not sure why, but he started getting pissed all the time. Everything set him off, but I just figured it was shit with his new job. I thought things would get better. I was so caught up in the move and getting Trix situated that I just didn’t see it coming.” I shook my head. “One day, he came home, and the living room was a mess because my girl was fussy. I remember that toys were all over the floor, and laundry was all over the place, too, because I was trying to catch up. He came in and just started talking in this soft voice. It was eerie because I could tell he was pissed, but his voice never changed. Before I knew it, he walked over and punched me. Right in the stomach.”
By this time, I was breathing hard but trying to keep it under control because my ribs were on fire. I didn’t even notice the tears streaming down my cheeks and into the hollow of my neck until Pop handed me the handkerchief he always kept in his back pocket.
“You know I can take a punch…you know I can. It’s not even a big deal normally,” I insisted as I wiped my face.
I was raised in the life. There was honor in being able to take whatever someone threw at you.
“It wasn’t even that I was surprised really. I mean, I knew it was coming. I could tell by the way he was standing, the way every single muscle in his body seemed to tighten up. But Trix was less than three months old, and I had a C-section. I don’t think I was totally healed yet…or something…because it was the worst pain I had ever felt. Ever. It knocked me off my feet. He didn’t care, and he wasn’t sorry. It wasn’t like I had done something wrong, and he was punishing me for it. He wasn’t pissed at me. It was like he enjoyed it. After that, it was like he knew he could get away with it, and no one would know. Every single thing I did. Everything set him off. It was like it wasn’t even about me, you know? He just needed an outlet, and I was his personal punching bag. He didn’t scream or trash the house. It was only me he went after.”
I paused again and closed my eyes as I remembered every punch, every kick. “I could take it. I was strong, and I knew I could just deal with it—at least until Trix was a little older and in school. I figured if I could just make it that long, then I could figure something else out. He’s a stockbroker; it’s not like I couldn’t take anything he dished out.”
As I told Pop the abbreviated story of the last five years of my life, I felt like an idiot. Who stays with a guy that beats her bloody more than once a week? What the fuck had I been thinking? I scooted myself up carefully on the pillows. I didn’t want to tell Pop the last of my story while lying down although I wasn’t sure why it would have mattered.
“Last week, Trix didn’t put her toothpaste away after she’d brushed her teeth before bed.”
I saw my father’s body, which had been tensed to the breaking point before, turn to forged steel.
“He grabbed her out of bed. She had already been asleep when he got there. I came running into the room as he started to shake her. Pop, she looked like a fucking bobblehead! Her poor little neck was just jerking with every shake, and there were tears running down her face. When I got there, her eyes just sort of shifted to the side, and I know she saw me because she started to whimper. It was like she was asking me to make it stop.” I clenched my hands together on my lap, realizing they had begun to shake. In fact, my whole body was shaking, and I had been so engrossed in my story that I hadn’t noticed. “I charged at him and tore her away. Before I even set her down, he was punching me in the back. She knew if he was angry that she should go sit in her window seat, and she did. Thank Christ. She sat there, trembling, as he turned on me.”
I closed my eyes as I remembered that night. “He beat the holy hell out of me, Pop—right in front of my four-year-old daughter. I thought he was going to kill me. I couldn’t get out of bed for two fucking days. I’ve been peeing blood for a week. Trix made kitchen runs because I couldn’t make it down the stairs. When he would leave for work in the morning, she would crawl into bed with me and lie there all day. She tried not to move because every time she did, it was excruciating for me.” I shook my head. “I couldn’t let her see that again. I thought I was being so sneaky, but you’ve seen her. She’s so fucking quiet.”
I had done it. I made it through my entire story without breaking into hysterics. Now, I just had to brace myself for my father’s reaction.
“That motherfucker. I’m gonna kill him. But first, he’s going to hurt,” he replied calmly.
I knew that this wasn’t just an overwrought father who was talking big about avenging his daughter’s honor. My father never made threats, and while I had never feared him once in my entire life, I knew everyone else did. I always knew that Pop was different from the other dads. It was why I had run as far and fast as I could, why I’d married the first guy who asked, why I’d never told Trix’s biological father that I was pregnant. Ironically, I had decided early on that his life was not the life I wanted, and yet, when I needed a safe haven, this was the only place I wanted to be. I was slowly figuring out—five years too late—that this was where I belonged.