by JJ Johnson
"What are you lookin at?"
"Are... Are you okay, Dad?"
He laughed. Wiped his mouth and turned to face me. "Am I okay? What do you care? You're about as worthless as your mom. Just another burden for me to deal with."
I stared at him, this useless, drunken man who was supposed to care for me. My father had never spoken to me like that before. And despite his constant drinking, this was the first time I'd ever seen him drunk. But I heard stories of what a drunken father could do. I was scared, and I was mad, and I gripped Louie tighter. I didn't even realize what I'd done, but my dad did.
"What are you doing with that old thing?"
Louie's voice was soft but firm. "You need to go, or he's going to hurt you."
"No," I said.
"What did you say to me, Boy?"
I'd been talking to Louie, but Dad couldn't know that. And I'd never told my dad no before ever. Not ever.
"Seriously Michael," Louie said. "Get out of here. Otherwise, you'll have to hurt him."
Tears streamed down my face. "No, I won't hurt him, Louie. I can't."
"Who's Louie?" My father asked. "Are you going crazy or something?" He took two steps toward me, stumbling, his eyes wild.
"Stay away," I yelled. "Stay away."
Dad took another step, and I raised Louie up high.
My father straightened. "Don't be stupid. Put the bat down."
"No."
"Hit him," Louie said. "Hit him now, before he hurts you."
"Put it down," Dad said.
"Come on, sissy," Louie said. "Look at him. He’s going to gut you like the little pig you are. Hit him."
"I can't," I said. "I don't want to hurt him."
"Hurt who?" My father asked.
"Just hit him," Louie screamed.
My father took a step towards me, and I didn't think. I couldn't. I slammed the bat down on his head. My father stumbled back, one step, then two. He crashed into the kitchen counter, then collapsed to the floor.
I wasn't sure what to do.
I screamed.
I cried. I ran.
Louie laughed as we ran out of the house and across the field. I didn't want to look back. I couldn't turn around. I was scared.
I was pretty sure I had just killed my father.
ELEVEN
I ran for what felt like an hour. It was sunrise when I fell to my knees and cried. Louie was still clinging to my hand, laughing in that sinister way he always did.
"Stop laughing," I said.
"I can't believe it," he said.
"Can't believe what?"
"You're finally ready."
I stood and looked back towards the house. It was only a dot on the horizon. But I knew my father was either lying in a pool of blood or worse yet, dead. I feared the worst.
"I think we killed him," I said.
"So what? He was going to hurt you. Self-defense."
"I'm going to jail."
Louie laughed. "No, you won't. They don't send kids your age to prison. Juvie, maybe. But not jail."
"What's the difference?"
"Listen, kid. He's not dead."
"How do you know?" I was wailing now, my voice high, my tears dripping on my shirt. "I hit him pretty hard."
"You hit him all right. Hard enough to bust the skin, that's for sure. But not hard enough to kill him. The only thing you did was knock him out cold."
"How do you know?"
"I just do. Now get yourself together, and let's go find Tony."
I stood. "No."
I could feel Louie glaring at me. "What?"
"I said no. I'm done with your stupid games."
"My games," Louie said. "I'm not the one who couldn't stand up for himself. I'm not the one who was a coward. I'm not the one that is afraid he will get beat up day after day. That's you. And now you want to turn your back on me? After everything, I've done for you. You'll never be anything. Just a sissy that gets knocked around all day long."
I was crying, but I didn't care. Louie was trying to make me into something I wasn't sure I wanted to be anymore. I felt wicked- like there was a monster in me I had no control over.
"Pick me up, and let's go. And I'll pretend you never said any of this stupid stuff."
I shook my head and fell to my knees. "Please Louie, I don't want to do this."
"Michael."
I turned at the sound of my name. It was Madison. She was standing in the mid-morning light at the edge of the woods looking at me.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was up, and I saw you running across the field. I was worried."
Tears ran down my face. "My dad came home drunk." That was all I could say. I couldn't tell her what I'd done. She'd tell her father, and, they would call the police.
"Did he hurt you?"
Did he hurt me? I thought about it, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to. He had taken a step towards me, but he never actually laid a hand on me. So why had I swung?
"No," I said. "He didn't do anything to me."
She smiled. I saw sympathy on her face, and nobody had any shown sympathy to me for a long time. Something in her eyes made me feel peace. It was love. Only it wasn't the love as I'd once wanted her to feel for me. It was the love her pastor had mentioned. Love that sees no wrong, and sees no limit. It was only simple love.
I shook my head. "Why doesn't God love me? Why, did he choose to make me live this life?" It was the only thing I could think to ask. Why? Why me? Why do I live with this pain?
TWELVE
Madison invited me back to her house. She told me her parents had left for the day, so it was safe. I didn't have to worry that someone would call my dad, I agreed and followed her, but not before taking one last look at Louie.
"Don't," he hissed. But I couldn't listen to him anymore. Something had to change. I had nearly killed my dad. I still wasn't sure I hadn't. And I was confused about if I should tell Madison the truth. Maybe we could call an ambulance or something. But I couldn't face it. If I killed him, then he was dead, and everyone would know it soon enough. If I didn't, then he'd be okay. I couldn't think about it. He's fine. Louie had said he was fine, and I had to believe it. I had to, because Dad was the only family I had now that Mom had left. He had to be okay.
"Michael," Madison said. "Come, let's go." I turned and followed her across the field. I squeezed my eyes shut. Louie screamed at me to come back, screamed loud like he was scared to death. I knew he was okay, though, just mad I'd left him. I wanted to run away from him, wanted to never see him again. And then I wondered- would he find a way to get back to me? What would I do if he did? How would I get rid of him? No, that was crazy. The only way Louie was ever able to move was when I physically moved him myself. He'd stay right where I left him.
I sat down at Madison's kitchen table, and she made a couple cups of hot cocoa. I loved hot cocoa, but I never got it because Mom was no longer around and Dad only enjoyed his daily dose of beer. I sipped it, watched the steam spiral out and sift quietly into the air.
Madison sat across from me and held her mug in both hands like she was warming them up or something. "Michael, I have a question, and I need you to be honest with me."
"Okay," I said. "I don't usually lie."
"In the woods, you were talking to-"
"I was just talking to myself," I said. Here I'd promised I wouldn't, and I lied. I felt a little guilty, but I knew that if anyone found out about Louie, they'd have me locked away in one of those crazy houses for sure.
Madison nodded and seemed to accept that. "I do that sometimes. Like when I'm upset with someone, I usually write it down in a journal. But then I figure out I'm talking out loud when I'm writing. Sometimes I feel kinda stupid, but then when I'm finished, I feel better."
"Why do you write it down?"
She shrugged. "I guess it's my way of just letting it go, giving it up to God. I know if I keep holding on to it, then I won't be abl
e to think about anything else."
"I don't think God loves me," I said.
"You told me that earlier. Why do you think that?"
"If he loved me, then why did he put me in this life? I mean, why should I have to deal with my dad being depressed and drunk half the time. Why did mom pack up and leave us? Why does Tony..." I let it go. Tears were starting to well up inside.
"What about Tony?"
I wasn't sure what to say, I knew I shouldn't tell since I had a feeling she liked him. But even if she didn't, I knew Tony liked her.
"I shouldn't say."
"He bullies you, doesn't he?"
"You know?"
"Of course I know. I told him to quit."
"He hasn't bothered me in a while."
She shook her head. "Guys like Tony irritate me. They think a lot of themselves. But trust me, he has his own issues." Tony had issues? No way. He wasn’t scared of anything, and I was always scared. I wondered what was wrong with Tony, but I didn't ask. Figured she wouldn't tell me, anyway.
"Michael," she said. "God does love you."
"How can you know that?"
"I just do, trust me. He wants to forgive you for your sins."
I wanted to blurt out that I had almost, or maybe even had, killed my father. Did she think God could forgive that?
"Michael, all you need to do is trust him."
I shook my head. "That's the problem."
"What is?"
"I don't think I can trust him."
THIRTEEN
I left Madison's at a quarter till noon. She told me all sorts of stuff about Jesus, about how he died so I could be forgiven. The gospel, she called it. I wasn't sure I understood all of it, but I didn't think I could trust the idea that someone would die for me. It seemed too simple.
Tony was sitting on his front porch when I walked out her front door. I was curious what thoughts swirled through his mind as he saw me leaving the very girls home that I knew he liked. A part of me wanted to wave, to be smug, show arrogance. But a different part wanted to move on and not draw his attention. Besides, I had dad to worry about. I was starting to believe Louie was right. I hadn't killed him. I just knew I hadn't. So I ignored Tony, looked ahead, and kept walking.
Dad was waiting for me on the porch. I felt a lump in my throat, my gut tighten. I saw him as I turned the corner to come up our drive. Louie had said not trust him, but he was my father. Maybe he wasn't the best dad, but he was all I had. He kept food in the fridge and paid the bills and stuff. So maybe he didn't play ball with me. In the end- He was still my dad.
I took my time, studying the ground, focusing on the dirt and grass, anything to make the time go slower. I stopped a few steps away from where he sat. His face swollen and bruised. His forehead above his right eye a mixture of both blue and purple. Dried blood caked his beard. I couldn't read his expression, and that scared me more than anything.
"Dad," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm sorry for hitting you."
He nodded and tossed an empty beer can to the side. "I guess I gave you every reason in the book to hate me."
I didn't say anything. The truth was, I didn't hate dad. I loved him. I just needed to know he loved me back.
"You know Michael, after your mother up and left, I never expected to get father of the year. I never thought I could raise you right. So I drank. I was a failure in my marriage, and I was sure to be a failure as a father. I felt like nothing I could ever do would be right. So I drank myself silly and decided it was best just to let you be and stay out of your way. Your mother and I gave you enough problems to drive you nuts. Anyway, I don't blame you for hating me."
I shook my head. "I don't hate you, dad. I just..." But I didn't finish, because I didn't know what I was going to say. And then, my father stood and wrapped his arms around me. I started crying, harder than I'd cried in years. Suddenly for the first time, I felt loved by the man that I had thought, just like Louie, considered me a sissy. I wept, and my father cried, too. We both said we were sorry. I hoped, I wished, that for a moment, I could pause time. Watch the tall grass sway endlessly in the wind, listen to the howl of air as it broke off the foothills and cascaded down to that spot where we were. For the first time I loved my father more than I ever knew I could, and I was sure, without question, that his love for me was real. It was a perfect moment, a spot where you take a Polaroid and think, this, this is what life is all about.
From that moment on, life with dad would be what I had always wanted it to be. Simple.
FOURTEEN
For the next few weeks, life was good. Dad hadn't touched a beer and had started to attend something called Celebrate Recovery at Madison's church. We hung out together, went to movies, and he taught me how to throw a football. We even accepted Madison's father's invitation to go to church with them on Sundays, which I enjoyed. Life was good. For the first time since Mom left, we were heading in the right direction. But then, one Tuesday afternoon, it all came crashing down.
I stepped off the bus with Tony not far behind me. Madison wasn't riding today because she had stayed at school for cheer-leading practice. Everything had been so good lately that I didn't expect what happened next. I was about half way up my drive when I felt my head snap forward. I lost my balance and landed on the ground hard. I had no time to break my fall, so I hit face-first. When I rolled over, I felt my face burn from a scrape across my chin. Tony was standing over me, his bag on the ground and his fingers scrunched up in a fist.
"Why did you do that?" I asked.
"She's my girl."
I shook my head. "She isn't for either of us. She just..." I let it go and started to stand, but Tony pushed me back down and then kicked me in the side. I doubled over, struggling to breathe.
"Stop it," I gasped for a breath.
"She was mine!" Then before I could move, he was on top of me, his meaty fist slinging down on my face. I cried hard, wishing my dad would come down the drive at that very moment.
"Tony, please. Just stop. It hurts."
Tony stood and kicked me two, three, four times. My side hurt. My nose was bleeding.
"From now on, stay away from her. Or next time, I won't stop. Next time, you might not live."
I watched him turn and walk away. Down the drive.
Sissy. I could hear Louie's voice whispering to me, carrying across the field.
Get up, you little sissy. Come and get me. Let's take him out.
"I can't Louie. I can't. He's too big."
He isn't that big. Find me. Let's get him, let's show him he can't do this anymore.
With one hand I pushed up and took two steps before collapsing back down.
Get up, you little sissy.
"Don't call me a sissy," I screamed.
I could hear Louie laugh.
I stood, and pain climbed up my side.
Push it away, come find me. I'm your friend. Your only friend.
My only friend. That's what he was, and I'd left him there, and look what happened when I did. I forgot about Dad and Madison and all the good stuff that happened since I left him out there. I walked, and before I knew it, I was walking out across that field, to that spot where I had left him. I wasn't sure what I would say, it didn't matter, because there wouldn't be any discussion.
I found him lying in the same spot I had left him. Right in the middle of some brush. I picked him up and wrapped my fingers tight around him. His power inched through my veins, and I could feel him turning my blood cold.
"So," he said. "The sissy has returned."
"Don't call me that."
"You angry."
I looked at him. He laughed.
"Good. Now, tell me what you want to do to him."
"I want to make him feel pain. I want to make him suffer."
"That's all? We can do more."
"Like what?"
"Like break his legs."
I smiled. I liked that. Breaking Tony's legs would be fun. I reached down and rubbed my side. I
winced as I touched it.
"I want to break his ribs."
Louie laughed again. "I like that, breaking his ribs will be fun."
"I want him to struggle to breathe."
"You want to kill him, don't you?"
"Yes."
Louie didn't say anything. Not for a long minute. We both stood there.
"Good," he said at last. "Then let's go."
FIFTEEN
Tony lived about a half mile from my house. I could see him as I cut across the field, walking with his ear buds in. He couldn't hear me. He couldn't hear anyone coming. I was sure he didn't know I was behind him. That was good. As maddening as the anger that iced my veins was, I still had a shaky confidence. If he turned and saw me, I wasn't sure what I would do. So I walked slow, trying to catch him. I tried to avoid crunching the gravel when I walked as much as I could.
"Get him," Louie hissed. "Hurry."
I gripped Louie and raced towards Tony. I wanted to see him bleed. To see him hurt. To see him cry. He never turned. I pulled Louie back and swung right at the back of Tony's legs.
Louie screamed. A much louder and more horrible scream than the one that came from Tony. I'm not sure Tony made a sound. It was more of an oomph sound that escaped him.
He rolled over on his back clutching his leg, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
I pulled back on Louie and brought him down. Tony threw his big meaty arm up, and I heard a faint crunch. A satisfying sound. I loved the scream that finally erupted from Tony's throat. I screamed, too, as Louie continued to yell "Harder, harder, kill him..."
I brought the bat down once more, this time catching him in the shoulder. I backed away, smiling. It felt good to see Tony in pain.
Tony stared at me, eyes wide, clutching his arm. Tears streamed down his face, and blood dripped from the corner of his eye. I didn't even remember hitting him there.