After I finished eating my dinner, Caroline and I washed the dishes together. Our father still wasn't home. I had never known him to be gone so long. I allowed myself to hope just a little that maybe he would never return. We could survive without him, happily too.
Mom was almost passed out at the dinner table. I knew better than to point that out to her. However, I did make sure that I got her attention when I said good night. Once I had woken her up by gently tapping on her when she was passed out like that. That time she had beaten on me herself with the first thing that she could grab, which happened to be her shoe. I had learned my lesson pretty quickly, luckily only suffering a headache because of it.
We would have all gotten into trouble if I didn't try to wake her at all though. We all knew that Dad didn't like it when she passed out like that. He had a hard time waking her to get her to go to bed. They always ended up fighting then too.
Mom lifted her head and opened her eyes a little. “Uh huh,” was her only reply as she absently wiped at the drool that was starting to make its way from her mouth down to her chin. I got so frustrated when she was like this. Why did she have to drink so much every day?
I thought the stuff was disgusting myself. I had tasted it once when Johnny had dared me to. Of course I couldn’t lose a dare and my parents had both been busy outside doing something at the time. I had taken too big of a sip and almost choked on the nasty stuff. It had made me feel dizzy too, almost right away. Johnny told me I made that part up in my head, but I swear it was true. Drinking that had to be like drinking gasoline or some other poisonous liquid of that sort. I told myself I would never touch the stuff again, dare or no dare.
If she was so miserable in her life she should have just figured out some way to change it. Sure, I know she probably felt trapped and it wouldn’t be easy to do. But there had to be some way and she was a grown up. Of course she could find a way if she really wanted to. We would all be much happier. Unless she just left and left us alone with Dad. That would not be good at all. Would she do something like that? Maybe. I wasn't sure. What would I do in her situation? What a big question that was, it was like asking myself exactly what the rest of my life would be like. I had no clue.
For now I just needed to wake her up. I decided to keep the conversation going. Long enough to make sure she stood up and didn't pass back out as soon as I left the room. “The dishes are done and put away, Mom.”
“Okay,” she said with her slurred speech. I could see her eyes working to open again.
“There was some leftovers that I put away too,” now she was beginning to stand up using the table for support. “I made Dad a plate and put it in the refrigerator.”
She was finally on her feet. Her eyes were still only half-opened, but she responded again with, “Good.” Now she was stumbling off towards the room she shared with our father. I went upstairs to the room I shared with my sister.
What would I do if I were in my mother's position? I didn't think I would ever have to worry about that because I didn’t think I would be stupid enough to end up with someone like Dad. But still, it was something interesting to keep in mind. I wouldn't have stayed, that was for sure. I think I would have taken whatever kids I had and left as soon as there were any signs of him being anything like my father was. I wondered if he had always been this way or when the change had started.
I woke the next day to find that Dad had never come home the night before. My hopes that he would never return began to rise to the surface again. I could tell that Mom was worried and irritated that he wasn’t home yet because she didn’t do any instruction herself that day before our lessons. She just told us to work on our school work ourselves after our morning chores were done. She didn’t bother to make breakfast either, just told us to have some cereal or whatever we felt like having.
I decided to have oatmeal and made my brothers and sister some too. It was really delicious with maple syrup, brown sugar, and milk in it. Whenever I ate oatmeal it made me think of the story of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” with their porridge. I didn’t know why, maybe because I always had to wait until the temperature of the oatmeal was just right before I could eat it.
My father didn’t come home at all that day. We went about our chores and our school lessons as normal, except without Mom’s help. Mom was moody and stayed to herself most of the day. She even told me to figure out supper. I was happy to do it.
It had been another pretty relaxing day so far besides Mom being so miserable and my bleeding. We even played in the yard again for a little while before dinner. Dad still wasn’t home by the time we went to bed and Mom was on the couch watching a show on the television. I hated seeing her that way, but I prayed with all my might that night that Dad stayed away forever.
It must have been hours later when I awoke. I felt achy and gross. I must have fallen asleep while praying that my father stayed gone. I looked around and it was still dark. No one except me, Caroline, and Lucky was in our room. I refused to leave the small comfort that was my room to change the soaked rags between my legs until morning. I would just deal with whatever mess there was then.
As I was trying to get comfortable enough to get back to sleep, I heard horrific shrieks coming from somewhere down the hall. That must be what had awoken me. Oh my God! I realized that the shrieks must have come from one of the boys. I wanted to block out the noise, but instead I found myself listening and trying to figure out exactly who was doing the screaming. It sounded as if my father had managed to make it home after all because I heard him mutter a few words that I couldn’t quite make out.
My heart was breaking for my brothers. No matter which one it was, the other must be an unwilling witness to whatever horror was taking place. I was pretty sure it must be my little brother Eric, because the screams were more high-pitched than Johnny's would have been. I wished so badly that someone would end this. That the whole nightmare would just go away. And just like that the screams stopped. I listened for a while longer to make sure. Then somehow I managed to force myself to fall back to sleep, holding on to Julie more tightly than ever, feeling relieved after hearing my father's familiar footsteps leave our hallway and head down the stairs.
I wished that Emily hadn’t heard those awful screams. I tried to keep her sleeping, but she had forced herself to wake up. From the sound of those screams, I could tell that something terrible must have happened at the hands of Emily’s father. Though I had heard cries and such before from her brothers’ room, I had never heard anything quite like that. Luckily Emily was able to get herself back to sleep.
I was also more than a little disappointed about her father having returned home after being gone for two whole days. It had been just long enough for Emily to hope that he might never return only to be let down when she realized that he had. I wondered why he had been gone so long, where he had stayed, and what he had done. Maybe we would all find out tomorrow.
CHAPTER six
In the morning I went straight downstairs and into the bathroom to change the nasty, blood soaked rags that I now had to wear. And to clean myself up. I brought my change of clothes with me and planned on taking a quick bath while I was in there. The blood had soaked through the rags, my nightgown, and had even gotten on the sheets on my bed. I would have to change my bedding and wash everything that I had bled all over after I finished cleaning myself up. What a long process. I didn't feel like doing it. But I would have to. So I left Caroline sleeping and got busy doing what needed to be done.
The bath was nice even though the water turned pink with the blood that I washed from myself. That was a little yucky, but at least I had washed my hair before the water got all gross. While dressing I made sure to put a couple of fresh rags in my underwear. It felt bulky and uncomfortable, but at least I wouldn't bleed all over the place.
Now I was all cleaned up and dressed. So I gathered up the blood soaked rags, my nightgown and underwear and headed back to the bedroom for my dirty sheets. I grabbed som
e clean ones from the hall closet and replaced the ones that I took off of my bed. Caroline was still sleeping soundly. I left her and went downstairs into the cellar to throw my load of wash in.
Once that dirty chore was done, I headed back upstairs and out to the kitchen to get some toast. I wasn’t very hungry, but knew I needed to eat something because I felt weak and dizzy. But once there I found my father, mother, and Johnny already sitting at the table. Their heads were downcast. My mind replayed the screams that I had heard in the night. My heart sank into my stomach.
“Where's Eric?” I was afraid to hear the answer. I guess I knew deep down inside that something horrible had happened to my little brother.
“Run now Emily! You don’t want to hear this,” Julie tried to warn me from inside my head.
“Sit down Emily,” my father said solemnly.
“No! No, I will not sit down! What did you do to him, you monster!?”
My mother gasped. “Emily! How dare you speak to your father that way! There was a terrible accident last night. Your brother... he didn't make it. We'll bury him ourselves today in the garden.” My teeth were clenched together. I knew that they were lying about an accident. I had heard his horrific last cries in the night. Our father did this.
I looked at Johnny. His face was covered in a ghastly, haunted look. And his eyes actually looked gray. Whatever had happened scared the blue right out of Johnny's eyes. He gently shook his head at me, confirming what I had already known. I ran to my room. I couldn't be near my parents right now. Maybe not ever again.
When I got to the room and shut the door, Caroline asked me what was wrong. I couldn't even breathe long enough to tell her. The answer came in between broken sobs and gasps for air. I simply told her that our little brother was dead. That's all I knew for a fact. There was no point in adding to her grief by telling her my suspicions because of what I had heard in the night. She cried and I held her.
It wasn't that I thought that she would yell at our parents like I had yelled at my father if I told her what I thought. But she might end up asking questions that were better left unanswered. It would be better for all of us probably if they stayed that way.
I wondered if it was normal to bury dead people in one's own garden. I knew there were graveyards for that sort of thing, but maybe not for people like us. We didn't go to a church. Our father taught us what he wanted us to know of The Bible and God. Our mother told us the rest when he wasn't around.
So Fleischer's, at least Fleischer children, didn't deserve a burial in a real graveyard like other people. We were no better than our animals. Not even important enough when we died, or were murdered. Nobody cared about us. Nobody. We really were completely on our own; all alone.
I cried and I prayed. I prayed so hard, convinced that someday my prayers would be answered. I had to believe that. I did believe that with all my heart and mind. God must be a very busy man of course and there were probably people in the world with worse problems than mine. I cried until I was too exhausted to even think anymore. Then I slept.
Johnny woke me sometime later. It was time to bury my little brother and he didn't want me to miss it. Eric deserved at the very least for all of us to be there to say our final goodbyes to him.
At least the weather was appropriate for today's occasion. It was gloomy and there was a cold, drizzling rain. I joined Caroline and Johnny in front of the ground that was already dug up for our brother's body to lie in. I couldn't tell anymore if there were tears streaming down from my eyes or if it was just the rain. They felt like one and the same to me at that point.
My parents came out carrying Eric, covered in our best sheet. We wouldn't see his face. Caroline burst out with a gut-wrenching sob. I held her head in my arms against my chest as they lowered him gently into the earth. I barely noticed as Caroline's tears and snot mixed with the rain on my sweatshirt, soaking through to my already cold skin.
Then our parents told us to each take a handful of dirt near the hole and throw it over Eric's body. That seemed wrong to me, but they insisted that's how it was supposed to be done. So Johnny, Caroline, and I each took a turn throwing wet dirt on the sheet that covered my brother's dead body, followed by each of my parents doing the same thing.
I wanted to speak. All of a sudden I just felt like I had to, for Eric. And for myself, Johnny, and Caroline. With a voice that was hoarse from crying so much I said, “Can I say something about Eric at least? In the books they always say something nice when they bury someone.”
“Go ahead Emily,” my mother seemed to welcome the interruption.
I did cry throughout my little speech, but at least I would be able to remember that I had done it. I had paid the best respect to Eric that I could. I had read about someone else doing the same thing when they buried their pet. “Eric, you were the best little brother anyone could ever ask for. You annoyed us, you made us laugh and you got us into trouble sometimes. Above everything else you were one of us. I know you're in a better place now. No more chores, no more pain. No more tears. Enjoy yourself and know that we'll all come to play with you again someday. I love you and I will never forget you, Eric Ryan Fleischer.”
Johnny patted my shoulder as I walked past him to go back into the house. Caroline followed me in. I didn't know if we were supposed to stay to help fill in the rest of Eric's grave or not. I didn't want to. Dad could punish me if he felt like it. A little bit of pain would be fine with me right now. I was already in so much pain on the inside. Why not match that with pain from the outside?
As I entered the house, a familiar smell pierced my nostrils. Fish baking, making my heart ache again. I had forgotten that we were supposed to eat the fish for dinner tonight that Johnny and Eric caught only the day before yesterday. I swore that I could still hear him saying, “I caught three of them myself!” My stomach rumbled. I knew that I was hungry because I hadn't eaten all day, but I didn't think that I'd be able to eat. Maybe I would be able to stomach a little something. I decided I would at least try.
I went straight to my room to change out of my clothes that were wet from the rain. I had a headache. My eyes felt like they had been lit on fire. My throat felt like someone had tied it in a knot. And my stomach. Ugh. My stomach was twisting and turning like it always did before I threw up or had diarrhea. But this time I was sure there was nothing in it to puke or poop.
It was hard to believe that only yesterday Eric was here with us and we had had such a good day. And the day before that had been even better. Mom and I had made a delicious breakfast together, Johnny and Eric had gone fishing and caught lots of fish, I had read Caroline and Eric a story and then the three of us had played Tag, and Dad had stayed gone for two whole days, until all of the rest of us were in bed last night. I would gladly give it back if only Eric could be here with us again.
At dinner Dad did make mention of the fact that we were eating the very last meal that Eric would be able to help put on the table. We kids all seemed to only nibble at our food. I hadn't eaten anything else all day, but it seemed so hard to swallow with the knot that was in my throat. Dad ate as if he hadn’t eaten in forever and Mom just ate like she normally would on any ordinary day. Ugh. They made me sick just watching them go on like nothing had changed.
Eric's seat at the table next to Mom was empty. Empty for God's sake! Didn't they realize that? His place at the table, his bed, his clothes, everything of his would be empty now. Without him. Johnny didn't play with us very much anymore so now Caroline and I wouldn't be able to play the games we usually played. No more Hide and Seek, no more Tag. You couldn't really play those games very well with only two people. Things were going to be different. That much was for certain.
After dinner I washed the dishes with Caroline's help. Then I went outside to the spot where Eric was buried. There was a medium sized stone laying there. Chiseled into it was this:
Eric Ryan Fleischer
1969-1976
That was nice. It didn't seem like enough, but i
t would have to do. “Hey, I’m surprised there’s even that here. Think about it: your Dad wouldn’t want anyone outside the family knowing about how Eric died or where his final resting spot is,” said the Julie in my head.
Of course, she was right. Again. I sighed and said, “good-night,” to the grave where Eric now rested and walked back into the house.
I couldn't stop thinking about Eric. About my little sweet brother spending the night alone out beneath the dirt. About how he had actually spent his last moments alive. That part I didn't know for sure and I didn't really want to, but my imagination just would not leave the matter alone. I wondered if I would have to add nightmares about poor Eric to the list of things that disturbed my sleep. Probably.
Here I was again, laying in my bed, thinking. I could run away. But I knew I couldn't do that to my remaining brother and my sister. And where would I go? I'd probably be caught anyway and the punishment I would receive was unthinkable, even to me. Maybe the three of us could run away together. Of course, then we would probably all get caught and be in terrible trouble. And I would end up feeling bad because it would have been my idea.
Detached: Book 1 of the Fleischer Series Page 5