Mom lived on constant diets. She’d go days on end without eating just to lose a few pounds. At times like that, the only person she’d cook for was my dad, so I’d go hungry as well.
All of their marital problems rested solely on my shoulders. I was told by the both of them that if I hadn’t been born, they’d still be happy and in love.
The older I got, the worse my father became. The verbal and emotional abuse morphed into physical. He loved to take his issues out on my mother and me using his fists. I used to pray Mom would pack us up and take me away from that awful house, that she’d see his abuse wasn’t right and she’d finally have enough. But that never happened. She remained insanely in love with Dad throughout everything, never once faulting him for his own actions. It was all my fault. I was the reason he didn’t love her anymore.
“Mackenzie, get your worthless ass down here!”
Already halfway up the stairs, I paused mid-step and turned with a sigh. I dreaded each step that took me closer and closer into the living room. Closer to a man I hated with an intensity that no fifteen-year-old should even comprehend.
“Yes, Daddy?” I asked once I was standing in front of his recliner. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom perched on the edge of the couch like the good, doting wife. As usual, she was dressed in her very best. Not a hair out of place, the makeup on her face strategically applied to cover up the black eye she was sporting from his vile outburst just two days ago.
“What the hell is this, you little twerp?”
He tossed a crumpled sheet of paper in my direction, causing me to have to scramble to catch it. It was a truancy letter from my school stating I’d already gone over the allotted number of days I was allowed to miss. It said I would fail tenth grade unless I made up those hours before or after school each day for the remainder of the year.
Of course I’d missed too many days of school. There was no way my mother would have allowed me to show up with bruises on my face and body for anyone to see. She wouldn’t risk people asking questions and finding out my dad liked to hit on his wife and daughter. But I’d have been stupid to think Mom would have actually spoken up for me.
“Once again, you’ve disappointed us, Mackenzie. I can’t believe you’d cut class and get into trouble.”
“Oh, shut the hell up, Nancy. No one asked for you to open your fat mouth.”
Mom bowed her head at my father’s insult, offering up a pathetic, “Of course, honey. I’m sorry.”
I kept my eyes focused on the pristine carpet under my feet.
“Well, what do you have to say to yourself?” Dad asked.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing that trying to defend myself was pointless. The eye twitch I’d developed two years ago hit full force as I stood before him.
“Goddamn it. Will you knock off that stupid tick! You look like a retard!” At his words, I squeezed my one eye closed, trying to get it to stop, but I couldn’t control it. “And you’ll make up every one of those fucking hours before and after school. So help me, if you fail this year, I’ll make you live to regret it.”
With that, he stood from his recliner to go.
“Sweetie, where are you going?” my mother asked, jumping from the couch and following like an obedient dog as my father stormed from the living room.
“I’m going out.”
“Please, Gary,” Mom pleaded. “Don’t leave. I made your favorite. Let’s just sit and have dinner together like we used to—”
“Christ, woman! Would you stop your damn sniveling? It’s pathetic.”
I was silent as the front door opened and shut on the sounds of my mother’s whimpers. Seconds later, the loud rumble of his truck pulling from the driveway alerted me he was gone.
My mom stomped back into the room and stood before me, brushing the tears off her cheeks. “This is all your fault, you stupid little brat. I wish you’d never been born!”
I couldn’t find it in me to be hurt by her cruel words. I’d heard them so many times growing up that I’d become numb to them. The only thing I was thankful for was that I’d managed to avoid my father’s fists, at least that time.
Present
As a rule, all single men hated grocery shopping. It was just a part of our nature, but seeing as I’d already finished my last pack of Ramen the previous night and ate my only can of Spaghettios for breakfast that morning, I didn’t really have much of a choice but to endure the dreaded grocery store.
“My mommy says those is full of bad stuffs that’ll make your tummy hurt,” I heard off to my side as I tossed another bad of potato chips into my cart. I looked over, and then way down to see two little brown-haired, hazel-eyed kids standing next to me, staring up in wide-eyed wonder.