The Third Parent

by Elias Witherow

  “Let’s go, Jackie,” Dad said, pushing the back door open and stepping out onto the patio.

  The sunlight spread its luminous rays down upon us like the warm hands of a caring mother. Fingers of light stroked my face as the door snapped closed behind me.

  Our backyard was bordered by a tall white fence closing us off from the woods behind the house. Since we were at the end of the street, there were no curious neighbors to hear us. The patio was a concrete slab that held a glass table and an array of chairs. An umbrella jutted from the center of the table like a flag its green cloth extending out like a forest canopy. Beyond the patio was our pool and then a swatch of grass; it was nothing to brag about but enough space for Dad and me to throw the baseball.

  Dad set the plate of burgers down on the grill’s arm and bent to switch on the gas. I stood watching him, clutching his beer in both hands. There were so many things I wanted, needed, to ask him, but I felt like silence better suited the moment.

  As Dad brought the grill to life, I heard the back door creak open. I turned and felt my stomach twist. Tommy walked towards us, grinning and shaking his head.

  “What a great backyard, Mike, really. The pool is a wonderful touch. Bet it feels incredible during the summer, huh? On a hot day like today?”

  Dad shifted his eyes and mumbled, “Uh, yeah, it’s great.”

  “Do you like to swim, Jack?” Tommy asked, casually walking to my side. I saw my Dad follow him closely with his eyes.

  I nodded, shifting the beer in my hands. “Yeah…so does Katie.”

  Tommy planted his hands on his hips. “Have you learned to swim?”

  Again, I nodded, staring at my bare feet.

  Tommy bounced his eyebrows. “Good, good. I guess that’s one thing I won’t have to teach you.”

  “Teach me?” I asked quietly. I still wasn’t understanding who this man was or what his intentions were. My young mind spun with confusion. People didn’t just barge into other people’s houses. People didn’t treat others like this. People didn’t hurt my dad…

  “There’s a lot of lessons you must learn,” Tommy plowed on, “important lessons about becoming a man, or in your sister’s case, becoming a woman. Like I said inside, I’m going to help your parents make sure you both grow up to be successful, intelligent members of society. Isn’t that great?”

  “Jack,” Dad interrupted, “I forgot the spatula. Can you grab it for me?”

  I finally passed him the beer and turned to obey when Tommy’s voice froze me.

  “Mike? Didn’t you forget something?”

  My father looked up, alarmed, one hand clutching a limp burger.

  Tommy rolled his fingers, “I didn’t hear a ‘please’ in that sentence.”

  Dad blinked and then looked back at me, “Please Jack?”

  Tommy smiled, “That’s better. You have to lead by example, Mike. That’s the most important thing a parent can go. Lead by example. Your kids are always watching, even when you think they aren’t.”

  Dad tossed the patty onto the grill. “Sure.” The meat sizzled and filled the empty hole of growing silence. I went inside with a tightness in my chest. I felt like I was dreaming, like this was some horrible bubble I was trapped in. I begged it to disperse, to free me from its walls of fear. The world felt different inside the bubble. It all looked the same, smelled the same, even tasted the same. But something had shifted, changed, and now dread had begun to fill the sphere surrounding my family.

  “Jack?” Mom said, her voice shaking.

  I realized I was standing in the doorway, unmoving. I shook the trance from my mind and looked at my mother. Her face was sickly pale and her eyes were bloodshot and wide. She was running on the edge of a knife, barely maintaining mental balance.

  I went to the counter and picked up the spatula for Dad. Katie stood silently, watching me. Her fingers were stained with vegetable juice, the knife in her hand the murder weapon.

  “Dad forgot this,” I said, turning back to go.

  “Jack?” Katie asked softly.

  I turned, “Hm?”

  Her face squished with worry before whispering, “Be careful.” Her words sent chills down my back, our eyes meeting with mutual understanding.

  Mom and Dad can’t protect us right now.

  I gave her a weak smile and crossed the kitchen. I opened the storm door and jumped out of the way before it could smack me in the face. I looked up at Dad and Tommy and felt a wave of new fear roll through me like fog in the early morning…

  Tommy was gripping the back of my dad’s neck, hard, and whispering furiously into his ear. Their bodies were tense and I couldn’t hear what was being said. Dad’s back was to me, but I could see Tommy’s face. It was twisted into a snarl, his blue eyes dangerous.

  He looked sideways at me and immediately released my dad, his composure returning. “Ah, there he is. Come on, these bad boys are going to need to be flipped soon.”

  I shuffled over and looked up into Dad’s eyes. They were brimming with tears and his jaw was locked, tendons standing out in his neck. Smoke wafted from the open grill and filled the evening air with familiar smells of summer. But there was nothing familiar about the way my father looked.

  It was a look that stuck with me for a long, long time.

  “Thank you, Jack,” Dad finally said, taking the spatula without moving his head. He flipped the burgers, the meat sizzling loudly as flames engulfed them.

  “You going to drink that?” Tommy asked my dad, pointing to the untouched beer next to the now empty plate of burgers.

  “Not thirsty,” Dad said quietly. His knuckles were white against the spatula.

  “Go ahead and have some,” Tommy encouraged. “I think you need to loosen up a little bit. It’s the weekend; enjoy yourself!”

  Dad picked up the beer and took a ghost of a sip before returning the bottle to its place. Tommy’s face grew dark. He stared at my father, smoke rolling between them, my father’s eyes trained on the cooking burgers.

  Suddenly, Tommy closed his eyes and his too-smooth face broke into a smile. “What a day to be alive.”

  “Want a clean plate for the burgers?” I asked nervously. Dad nodded, but Tommy held up a hand, stopping me. He motioned for Dad to hand him the spatula. Slowly, my father handed it over, confusion melting his somber expression.

  “I need to know you understand completely what kind of relationship we now have,” Tommy said dangerously, all humor and cheer draining from his face.

  “I understand,” Dad growled.

  Tommy shook his head, eyes twin slits, “No Mike, I don’t think you do. And it’s very important that we clear this up. Remember what I said about leading by example? You need to show your family that you’re compliant. You need to change your attitude or you’re going to make things very, very hard for everyone else.”

  Dad just stared at him and my heart thundered in my chest. I felt like I was watching two gunslingers sizing each other up, just like the cartoons I watched on Sunday morning before church.

  “Hold out your hand, Mike,” Tommy said darkly, his perfect lips a thin, white line.

  “Why?” Dad asked, unmoving.

  Tommy stepped closer to him, their noses almost touching. “Because I told you to.”

  Never breaking eye contact, my dad extended his hand, palm up.

  Tommy’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “If you move your hand, I’m going to drown Jack in the pool. Do you understand?”

  Some of the hardness left my father’s eyes and he nodded, barely tilting his chin. I could see the blood draining from his face and again, I wanted to cry, paralyzed by the confrontation before me. Tommy scooped up a sizzling burger from the grill with the spatula, smoke rising from the cooked meat in waves that watered my eyes.

  Slowly, he lowered it into my father’s waiting hand.

  Immediately, Dad’s face went red. He clamped his jaw shut to extinguish a groan crawling up his throat. Burning hot grease dripped betwee
n his fingers and I saw his hand quiver as his skin cooked beneath the inferno.

  A slow smile crept up Tommy’s face as he watched the anguish ignite in my father’s eyes. The seconds ticked by, the two of them silent, refusing to be the first to speak. My dad’s face had taken on a sickly cherry color now and I saw sweat beading across his forehead. The hand hosting the burger was shaking violently and veins stood out on his arm.

  “Stop it!” I cried suddenly, smacking the patty from my dad’s hand. “It’s burning him!”

  Immediately, Dad sucked in a grateful breath and rubbed his hand vigorously against his pant leg, gasping. Tommy sniffed and the humor returned to his impossibly blue eyes. He looked at me and for a second I thought he was going to hit me, but instead, he ruffled my hair and went inside, leaving us both in pained shock.

  “Dad?” I asked, the tears finally escaping. “Dad are you ok?”

  My father gritted his teeth and clutched his hand, the skin an angry shade of crimson. “I’m ok, Jack. I’m ok. Everything is ok.”

  I shook my head, vision blurring, “No it’s not! He hurt you! Why did he do that?!”

  “Listen to me,” Dad said, bent over, gripping my shoulder. “We need to be very careful around Tommy. If he asks you to do something, you need to do it. Otherwise, things could get very bad.”

  “Dad, you’re scaring me,” I sobbed, standing helplessly before him, tears streaming down my face like comets.

  Emotion swelled across my dad’s face and he embraced me in a hug. “We’re going to get through this. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. Be brave.”

  I nodded miserably into his chest.

  And that’s when we heard a gunshot echo across the sky.

  Dad tensed against me, his grip tightening around my shoulders. It had come from somewhere down the street. The blast faded and I felt my dad’s heart drumming against my ear.

  “What on earth…?” Dad whispered.

  A split second later, we heard a distant scream. A woman. The shrill cry echoed again, a harsh, guttural sound full of fear that splintered the cooling air.

  “Let’s go inside,” Dad said quietly.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, wiping my face.

  Dad looked around, his voice low. “I don’t know. I think that was Mrs. Murphy.”

  “Is she ok?” I asked dumbly, the scream now fading. It was replaced by gentle night bugs as evening bled across the sky.

  “I don’t know, Jack. Come on, inside.”

  He threw the burgers back onto the plate we had originally used and then I followed him into the house. The kitchen smelled of simmering vegetables and butter. Normally, it would have made my mouth water, but tonight it felt more like a disease trying to worm its way down my throat.

  Tommy was sitting at the head of the dinner table, waiting for us. Katie and Mom were on either side of him, also seated. My mother’s hands were folded tightly in front of her, eyes wide, staring across the table a Katie. My sister looked at us as we walked in and quickly motioned for me to sit next to her.

  “Smells great doesn’t it?” Tommy asked, addressing my father. Dad just placed the burgers on the table and pulled a chair out. Piles of steaming food lay before us, but hunger was an alien concept that we were all struggling with.

  “Who wants a burger?” Tommy asked cheerily.

  “Was that a gunshot?” Katie asked quietly. Dad snapped his eyes over to her and gave her a curt shake of the head. Don’t talk about that.

  Tommy looked at my sister, his face unreadable. Finally, he said softly, “Would you like a burger, Katie?”

  Katie shook her head, a look of strained anguish peeling her lips down. “No! I’m not hungry! I don’t want this! I don’t want any of it! I want you to leave and stop hurting my dad!” The tears came next, great big diamonds down her flushed cheeks.

  Wordlessly, Tommy slid a burger into a bun and placed it on Katie’s plate. He then repeated the action for the rest of us, his face a blank slate.

  “Honey, come sit with me,” Mom said gently, scooting her chair out and reaching for Katie.

  Tommy slammed his hand down on the table so hard that my water glass tipped over.

  “She will stay EXACTLY where she is, Penny!” Tommy yelled, eyes flaring with blue lightning. “We are going to SIT here and enjoy this meal as a FAMILY!”

  “You’re scaring her!” Mom cried, clutching her hands to her chest. “Look at her, she’s terrified!” Katie sat miserably in her spot, sobbing and rubbing her eyes. I reached out and patted her leg under the table. It was all I dared to do.

  Tommy slowly stood up, his eyes blazing. “Well, if it’s bothering you so much, maybe you shouldn’t look at her.”

  “Stop, please, everyone…” Dad said weakly. But Katie just cried harder and Tommy’s face was positively burning with cold rage.

  “Jack,” Tommy said darkly, “pass me the mustard.”

  “I’m sorry!” My mother shrieked, “she’s just scared and—”

  “The mustard, Jack. NOW!” Tommy bellowed, extending a hand to me. Sniffling, terrified, I looked at my dad who just closed his eyes, and then handed Tommy the mustard.

  Tommy walked behind my mother and placed the mustard bottle on top of her head, “When will you people learn to listen,” he muttered darkly, “Why do you make me do things like this?”

  He suddenly gripped my mother’s ponytail and jerked her head back. Screaming, Mom flailed in a panic, but Tommy swatted her hands away like they were pesky flies. He upended the bottle of mustard and doused both her eyes with it. Dad exploded into a standing position as Mom went into agonized hysterics, kicking and thrashing in place as Tommy held her.

  Tommy glared at my father, yelling over Mom’s screams. “If you move, Katie gets it next! Or do you think you can stop me?” Dad went still, hands shaking, his face strained.

  “No?” Tommy smiled, “Then sit DOWN!”

  Dad obeyed, chest hitching, and gripped the edge of the table in helpless misery. Tommy smiled and slowly pressed his thumbs into Mom’s eyes, rubbing the burning condiment deeper into her sockets. Katie had covered her face with her hands, trembling, feet pulled up into her chair. My lip trembled as I watched all this, tears flowing freely down my face. Stop this, someone please, make him stop hurting her.

  “Penny! PENNY!” Tommy yelled into my mother’s face. “Calm DOWN, Penny, it isn’t that bad! You can make the pain stop! Do you want the pain to stop, Penny?”

  “Yes, please GOD stop this!” Mom wept, yellow tears running down the sides of her face, thick trails of mustard extending from her eyes like tentacles.

  “Are you ready to listen to me?” Tommy prodded, jerking my mom’s ponytail in his grip.

  “Yes. YES, PLEASE!” she shrieked.

  “Then open your mouth,” Tommy instructed. “Open it wide, Penny.”

  “Please, let her go…” Dad begged, unheard.

  Tommy ignored him and unscrewed the top of the mustard bottle. Mom opened her mouth, spittle leaking from the corners of her lips. Tommy gripped my mother’s hair again and then dumped the entire bottle into her mouth. Immediately, Mom sputtered and coughed, but Tommy jerked her head back violently, her mouth filling. It looked like a yellow marsh rising to the edges of the shore, a gurgling puddle of waste.

  “Swallow it,” Tommy chirped, “Swallow it all down, Penny.”

  Gagging, shaking, I watched as Mom clenched her throat muscles and forced the thick mustard down. She buckled once, threatening to vomit, but caught her breath at the last minute. Tommy chuckled and then looked directly at me.

  “Can you pass the ketchup, Jack?”

  Fresh tears welled in my mother’s blazing eyes, a yellow film coating the top half of her face. Katie was still weeping next to me, buried in her own fear, and my father just stared at Tommy, his face so white you could cut snowflakes from his skin.

  “Please, Tommy,” I begged quietly, my eyes feeling thick and bloated. “Please…let her
go…”

  Tommy held my gaze for an endless amount of time and then finally pushed my mother’s head forward, a small smile twisting his smooth lips. “Sure, Jack…anything for you, bud.” Mom gasped and blindly found her way to the sink, splashing cold water across her stinging eyes, hands shaking. Dad stood and went to her. He gently picked up a dishrag and helped her clear the remains of the mustard from her face.

  Tommy sat back down at the head of the table and slowly looked around at the four of us. “You people sure do get wound up easily.” I stared at my lap as Katie’s cries finally began to diminish.

  Suddenly, something heavy crashed into our front door causing us all to jump and momentarily forget our own misery. Tommy just casually turned his head looking almost bored.

  A female voice screamed at us from the other side as she thudded on the sturdy wood. “Get out of there! Penny, Mike, get your kids and GO! Run! He’s everywhere! He’s hurting us! Oh God, he’s HURTING US!”

  Another gunshot echoed outside and the woman on the other side of the door screamed. Something huge thudded against the side of the house, shaking the foundation, and then the woman stopped screaming, her cries cut short. A third gunshot exploded outside and then I head someone yelling, a man. It sounded like Jason’s dad from across the street.

  “What is happening to us…?” Dad said, immobile next to my mom.

  The phone began to ring. I jumped, despite all the noise, because now the source was coming from inside our house. I watched the yellow box dance on the wall, the color matching the mustard on my mother’s face.

  Through all of this, Tommy remained seated, an amused look plastered across his bizarre plastic features. He nodded to me and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  “You going to get that?”

  I slid from my seat, skirting a wide trail around Tommy, and reached for the phone. Trembling, I raised the receiver to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  At first, it was all distant static, but then a voice called to me through the distortion. It was the same voice as before. Eerily soft, yet strained.

  “It’s starting again.”

  And then the line filled with chirping static, growing so loud that I held the phone away from my ear, wincing. After a moment, the line went dead. I stared at the receiver for a second and then gently hung it back on the wall. I walked to my seat, staring at my feet.