The Ties That Bind Us: (The Ties Duet Part One)

by Danda K.

  I keep checking the door, mentally rushing my fat feline companion to finish eating already.

  Once Magnet’s done, he runs off, and I pick up the bowl and place it in the sink, turning the water on to wash away all traces of evidence.

  Walking over to the drawer at the end of the kitchen, I grab two oven mitts to take out the trays from the oven. ”Face Down” by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus starts playing on my phone, and I raise the volume just a bit and bop my head to the music.

  With my hands in the mittens, I open the oven to check the food. I pull out the first tray and place it on the counter, lifting the aluminum foil to take a look.

  The steam hits me as I bring my nose closer to smell the eggs and bacon. I use a spoon and mix the casserole. It’s perfect. Internally patting myself on the back, I tighten the foil over the rim to keep it warm for us.

  That’s when, out of nowhere, I hear Emersyn’s little scream from behind me, and I turn around to find her pulling her arm out of the open oven. She’s crying uncontrollably, holding the burned area of her forearm.

  “Oh, my God! Emersyn!”

  I drop the mittens on the floor and run over to her, guilt attacking my nervous system. Before I know it, she’s in my arms, and I’m rocking her back and forth as I kick the oven door shut.

  What the fuck did I do to her?! I burned this poor baby.

  I turn on the cold water and run her arm under it, hoping it helps, but she screams louder in pain. Tears roll down my cheeks as I pace back and forth with her. Little sobs drench my hair as I squeeze her tighter, rubbing my hands over her curls, hoping the pain will spread to me, instead.

  “I’m sorry, Emersyn. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, baby,” I repeat the words like a mantra over and over, just hoping they’ll make her stop.

  The sun shines in from the window, reminding me that Jaxon’s outside. I run to the door with Emersyn in my arms, pull it open, and scream Jaxon’s name so loud I feel the tearing of my vocal cords.

  The look of terror on his face when he finds us both crying adds even more panic to my chest.

  I hurt his baby, just like I knew I would. He’ll hate me.

  “Oh my God, what happened?!” He runs over to the both of us, looking Emersyn up and down first and then quickly checking me all over.

  He guides us inside, closes the door, and quickly drops the keys on the floor. “Mama!” Emersyn squeezes me tighter, so I hand her to Jaxon, but she clings to my neck. Emersyn screams and reaches for me as Jaxon pries her off me, my sobs uncontrollable now.

  I rub the tears from my eyes. “I burned her, Jaxon.” A gasp for air immediately follows that statement. “I burned your baby.” A violent cough starts in my chest, and bile makes its way up my throat, but I swallow it down.

  I hold on to the wall to keep myself steady as Jaxon looks over Emersyn again, noticing the burn on her forearm that’s bubbling up into a blister.

  His eyes widen as he screams, “Fuck!” And runs to the kitchen with her in his arms. She’s still screaming as I slowly follow behind him, the room spinning, feeling like I may faint. I knew this would happen.

  He opens the refrigerator, takes out one of Emersyn’s yogurt cups, and rips open the lid with his teeth, spitting it onto the kitchen floor. He drops to the floor with the baby in his lap as she pulls at her hair in frustration.

  I watch as Jaxon sticks two fingers in the cold mush and rubs it over her burn. She’s hiccupping and gasping for breath now, agony covering every corner of her beautiful little face.

  His breathing is heavy. “I remember hearing that yogurt helps.” Jaxon looks as though he may cry when he turns towards me with a pained look in his eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I-I-I was checking the casserole,” I gesture towards the oven. “I didn’t know she was awake.” I wipe at the wetness running out of my nose. “I just turned the music a little louder. It wasn’t too loud. I took the food from the oven and was checking it--”

  He interrupts me, “Did you close the door? How’d she get burned?”

  My cheeks are drenched from tears as I shake my head in shame. “I-I didn’t. It was barely a minute. I didn’t know she was in the kitchen, Jaxon. I’m so sorry.” He nods his head and stands up, placing Emersyn in her high chair as she holds her arm in pain.

  He pulls at the long strands of hair on his head in a panic. “I’m gonna take her to the emergency room.” He grabs his wallet and places it in his pocket with shaky fingers. I stay quiet, squeezing my eyes shut and pulling at my own hair. When my eyes open, Jaxon’s wrapping Emersyn’s arm in a small shirt and putting her coat over her.

  I repeat again, “I’m so sorry, Jaxon.” I reach for him, but he’s already turned to leave, lost in his own emotions.

  “I know Cameron, I know you are. Let me just get her checked out.” I watch as he walks away, defeated.

  His mind is thirty steps ahead of him, already at the hospital imagining the worst-case scenario. And I did this. Emersyn rests her tired head on his shoulder as he walks to the door, her little whimpers shaky as he opens it, exhausted and defeated from the crying and pain.

  When the door is shut, I run towards the window and watch as he carries her to the garage, kissing her multiple times as he rubs her back. I can read the I’m sorry coming from his lips from here. He’s apologizing for something I did.

  Or maybe for letting me into her life.

  I’ve been trying to tell him I’m no good around children. He wouldn’t listen. Jaxon has spent so much time trying to prove me wrong, he didn’t stop to think maybe I was actually right. I saw the burnt flesh when I ran her arm under the water. It’s only about three inches long, but it still should’ve never happened.

  If Jaxon was alone, his daughter never would’ve gotten hurt. If Jaxon was with someone else, someone fit to care for her, this never would’ve happened.

  I was hurt by adults growing up, and the thought of me contributing to any pain that Emersyn may feel has all the contents in my stomach rising in my throat. I know the pain she feels all too well. I know those screams first hand because I’ve experienced them more times than I care to remember…

  “Hi, I’m Molly,” I whisper as I hold a doll in each hand.

  “Hi, I’m Sally.” I bring them closer so they can hug.

  I hear the yelling from outside my door as I play with the Barbies I found in my lady neighbor’s garbage pail. Mommy and Daddy are fighting again. The sound of glass breaking makes me jump. I remember the last time Daddy fought with Mommy. He said girls like us take everything from him. He said I needed to learn a lesson. I never stole anything from him, though. I don’t know why he would think that.

  I know better.

  I don’t want him to hurt me the way he does when his words are slow. The door slams, and I know Mommy must have left again.

  Oh, no. He gets even angrier when she leaves.

  Daddy’s footsteps are approaching my room, so I quickly hide my new dolls under the bed. He doesn’t allow me to have toys, and I know if he finds me with these, it’ll be worse.

  I rub my side, still feeling sore from the last time she left. Looking down at the rip in my shirt, I poke my finger through it to feel through the other side. I lift the pink t-shirt up to look at my skin and see the colors purple and yellow, so I know I have more time before they’re gone.

  Maybe Daddy will choose to color the other side of my ribs this time. I can try and ask him to go easy on me, maybe, but I know he doesn’t like my questions. The footsteps stop. Maybe he doesn’t want me now?

  I tiptoe towards the door, and it flies open, just missing me. I lower my head, gripping the bottom of my shirt to pull it down, hoping he’ll leave me alone. He’s silent, so I peek up at him and see him staring at me like I did something wrong.

  I wish I knew what it was.

  I attempt a smile. I’ve seen some adults smile back when kids do this. Maybe he’ll realize I don’t mean to always make him angry.

  I h
eard Maggie Turner on the bus, talking about how her dad plays dolls and even has tea parties with her. I don’t even like tea parties. I just want Daddy to smile at me like her daddy does when he picks her up from school.

  I smile a bit wider, thinking it’s working since he hasn’t moved yet. But I’m wrong.

  “Something funny?”

  My smile falls as I straighten my back. “No, D-D- Daddy, I thought I’d--” I feel my head hit the floor before I realize he’s shoved me. The room spins a little, my ears have a ringing sound in them, and there’s a pain in the back of my head. I curl into a ball on my right side to protect the fading colors on it. I know what’s coming.

  His voice is low and scary. “Did I say you can speak?” I feel his big sneaker kick my tummy, making me choke.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy, I--” He kicks me again, my coughs burning my throat. It hurts.

  “Again! Did I say you can speak?!” I shake my head hidden behind my arms, quiet, hoping he gets it over with quickly. “You do nothing but create problems in my life. You’re fucking useless.” His breath is over me, and it smells like his special “soda” and smoke. “I never should’ve made the mistake of sticking it inside your mother.”

  What does that mean? His hands wrap around my ankles as he drags me out of my room.

  No, no, no, please. Why can’t we stay here?

  I don’t want to go with him, so I grip the door frame to stop him from dragging me. Daddy drops my legs and steps on my thighs with one sneaker, his full weight on me as he holds the wall, kicking the hand I have wrapped around the frame with his other shoe. I let go, crying out, and he grabs my ankles again to drag me.

  I feel the burning on my back from the rug underneath me as he pulls.

  “Daddy, please. I’ll be good!” I beg him to give me a break. He stops right before we reach the living room and picks me up by my shirt, my feet dangling in front of him. Slapping me hard on my cheek, I beg him. “Daddy, no! Not my face! Remember the last time!” reminding him of when he made this mistake, and my teacher Miss Crane called him about it. He has to be more careful.

  “You don’t tell me what I shouldn’t do! I’m the parent, goddamn it!” My feet meet the floor as he grips my cheeks hard in his hand, the yucky smoke smell from his fingers even stronger now.

  Daddy squeezes my face so hard between his fingers, I feel his dirty nails pinching my skin.

  Wetness forms in my eyes and one tear escapes down my cheek, landing on his fingers. He looks at it like he just touched something gross, shoving me off him, my back hitting the coffee table.

  I look down, the tears wetting my face now. I bet Maggie’s dad doesn’t do this to her.

  “You crying now, you little shit?” He grabs my arm and pulls me towards the couch, but I don’t put up a fight anymore. There’s no point.

  Daddy pushes me onto the couch, and I land on my belly. I see all his soda cans thrown on the floor and on the coffee table.

  The couch dips, and I close my eyes tight. I don’t wanna see. The smell of smoke surrounds me, a cloud of it covering my face. I cough hard, trying to breathe through it.

  “Be quiet!!” He strikes me from behind with the back of his hand, and I jump from the sharp pain, then quietly cry into the back of the couch. “You crying, again?!” Daddy lifts the back of my shirt all the way up until the bottom goes over my head like a hood. I try again to escape, but his legs are heavy on top of me. “Stop being a little fucking crybaby.”

  I feel tiny flecks hit my skin, so I turn my head and peek through at the mirror, watching as Daddy flicks the grey stuff on me from the stick he puffs on a lot. “Maybe I need to teach you to be obedient. This way, you’ll stop giving me so much fucking trouble.”

  Daddy presses down harder on me, and I hold my breath, knowing this won’t be a lesson like the ones I learn in Kindergarten. More smoke hits my face, and I try so hard not to breathe in, but there’s a pain in my chest from holding it.

  “Make one more sound, I fucking dare you.”

  His hand presses down on my back so hard, there’s small cracking sounds. I feel heat by my shoulder right before something hot presses against my skin, burning me. I scream loud from the pain, but Daddy pushes down harder before removing it.

  He sways on top of me, his words slower when he yells, “Did you not hear what I said, you little cunt?” He presses down in another spot, not far from where he burned me the first time. I think it’s his white sticks.

  I can’t help the warm liquid that soaks the front of my pants.

  What does he want from me?

  I plead through my sobs, “Daddy! Please stop! It hurts!” My tears are drenching the couch, and I feel a hard thumping inside my chest.

  He shouts back, “You’re pathetic!” He presses down again, and this time I hear a sizzling sound, then smell something odd, like when mommy straightens her hair. I scream again, begging him to stop, but he just continues more with each sound I make. Maybe he won’t lie this time and will stop if I shut up.

  I need a hug. My teacher says that hugs can help us when we feel sad. Daddy presses his finger on the hurt area, and I cry out again. Why can’t I ever listen? I wish I could just stay quiet. Screaming never helps, anyway. Nothing ever helps. I’ll just let Daddy do what he wants to me.

  I won’t scream again if that’s what it takes to make him go away and fall asleep already. Daddy burns me one last time, but I don’t move. I don’t even think it hurts anymore. I watch the static of the TV so long the zig-zags on the screen look like different shapes.

  When Daddy finally gets up, I’m still, and he stands next to me as I zone out on the dancing screen. No pain, no sadness. He won. I’m no longer crying, and I’ll never cry again.

  Daddy sits me up on the couch and points to the spot next to where I’m sitting. “You better clean this mess you made by the end of the day.” He picks up one of his cans and takes a long sip, then wipes his face off with his hand. “And while you’re at it, make these fucking floors spotless.”

  As Daddy lifts me over his shoulder and carries me, I see nothing but the swirly designs of the hallway rug as we move. We turn into the bathroom, and I see his brown stained underwear lying on the floor. My back hits the shower wall, and I don’t even flinch when the ice cold water shoots down on me, wetting all my clothes.

  I sit there, feeling nothing, and I don’t know why. I want to get up, but I can’t move. Daddy’s no longer on me. I don’t even think he’s in the bathroom anymore. I take some breaths, and my eyes close again, no longer hearing the water or the sounds from the vent above me.

  I no longer hear my dad. I think I’m falling asleep.

  As I think back to that day, I can almost smell the burnt skin around me.

  I did to her what he did to me.

  I sit here with my back leaned up against the bedroom wall. I repeatedly hit the back of my head onto the hard surface, trying to clear my head of this memory. My tears have soaked my t-shirt, and my eyes are swollen.

  I love Jaxon with every piece of my broken soul, and he’s done so much for me the past few months. He made the life that I wanted to give up on one worth living. There’s nobody else in the world who’d ever have as much patience with me as he does.

  I’ve fought him, I’ve hurt him, and I’ve given him nothing but trouble since the second we met. He’ll never admit this, but I know I’ve made his life more complicated than it would’ve been if he never met me.

  Regardless, through all of our relationship turbulence, Jaxon has been my constant supporter.

  He believes in me, he pushes me to be better, he loves me unconditionally. It isn’t fair for me to stay with him and deny him a future he could have with someone more stable or sane.

  Even if it kills me to think of him with someone else, he deserves someone else.

  Someone who can help him care for his daughter and be a great role model in her life. Not someone who can’t connect with her or even help with little things like a bath.


  Emersyn deserves better than me.

  If I haven’t gotten the hang of it by now, chances are I never will.

  Staying with Jaxon will hold him back from finding true happiness. He may love me, but he doesn’t need me, not like I need him.

  I told him I would stay as long as he still benefited from me somehow. Now it’s clear he doesn’t.

  I don’t even benefit his daughter. I’ll spend the rest of my life running from my past, and he deserves to build his future with that amazing little girl. The amazing little girl I put in the hospital.

  They’re both better off without me. Jaxon may not know it now, but eventually, he will. He’ll find a nice girl to help him raise a family. I know it can’t be me.