drove away down the streets of Seattle.
8
Three Months Ago
Jamie walked out of the hospital and to the bus stop. He knew that arrangements would have to be made soon, but there were other things on his mind. He thought about the life that just ended and the circumstances that led to that end, about the previous night and about all the things that he’d been enduring for so long, about the abuse. He thought about—yesterday.
By the time Jamie had gotten home from school, his father had already been sitting in their trailer’s floral-print kitchen drinking for about an hour. Hank drank a lot. He was the kind of alcoholic who actually functioned better when he was drinking. He had recently been laid off from the local factory, which only served to increase his love affair with the bottle. Hank filed for unemployment but hadn’t, as of yet, heard any news. The bills piled up, and his severance check wouldn’t last long, especially with his habit.
Jamie’s mom, Angel, sat in the wood-paneled living room with her head in her hands, crying softly. Everyone in the neighborhood called her Angel because of her looks and singing voice. They always remarked about how beautiful she was, even with some of the premature streaks of grey in her dark hair. Sometimes the family went to church, and when they did, she was always invited to join the choir. She refused every time, afraid that someone would somehow discover her secret.
Jamie sat on the worn, brown couch beside her, the springs underneath the cushions beginning to protrude, and lifted her head. The purple ring that had formed around Angel’s left eye couldn’t be disguised by any amount of makeup. This wasn’t the first of its kind. Usually, the bruises were on places hidden by clothes; occasionally, there were broken bones. This was the secret she was keeping from friends at church. Jamie had a secret of his own, however; Angel was not the only one sustaining injuries. Jamie often bore the brunt of Hank’s misfortunes, and he did his best to hide it from her.
“Why don’t we just leave? Why do you let him do this to you?” Jamie asked.
“Where would we go?” asked Angel. “There’s no one to take us in, and we can’t just leave. You’re sixteen; you’re still in school. I’m sure things will get better soon. He’ll get word on unemployment any day now, and then he can afford to find another job. He’s just having a tough break. We all are. Everyone is.”
“Not everyone responds the way he does, though. Not every unemployed husband is beating his wife. Besides, the hits don’t occur only when he’s taking hits. This shit’s been going on for years,” he said.
“Honey, it’s only been once or twice, and he apologized right after.”
Once or twice a month , he thought. He had always kept quiet, but not for Hank’s sake. He could care less about what happened to him; he remained silent for his mom. She would believe her son, there was no doubt about that, but she was right, where would they go? It would only make things more difficult for her.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “But sooner or later, somebody’s gonna give him a taste of it. And I hope I’m there to see it.”
Jamie walked to his bedroom, glancing at Hank out of the corner of his eye. He noticed Hank looking back at him, as if he were waiting to see if Jamie were going to make a move. Hank looked like he wanted Jamie to do something. The teen kept walking to his room, closing his door behind him.
Jamie wasn’t a popular kid in school. The female student’s often talked about how attractive he was, but that’s as far as they took it. He had what they considered a beautiful face, framed by alt-rock style blond hair. They labored to think of anyone else as good-looking as Jamie. But they also considered him too weird. He was known as a loner. He had a few acquaintances, but none he really hung out with. His mom would often tell him to get out of the house, to go somewhere, be
8
Three Months Ago
Jamie walked out of the hospital and to the bus stop. He knew that arrangements would have to be made soon, but there were other things on his mind. He thought about the life that just ended and the circumstances that led to that end, about the previous night and about all the things that he’d been enduring for so long, about the abuse. He thought about—yesterday.
By the time Jamie had gotten home from school, his father had already been sitting in their trailer’s floral-print kitchen drinking for about an hour. Hank drank a lot. He was the kind of alcoholic who actually functioned better when he was drinking. He had recently been laid off from the local factory, which only served to increase his love affair with the bottle. Hank filed for unemployment but hadn’t, as of yet, heard any news. The bills piled up, and his severance check wouldn’t last long, especially with his habit.
Jamie’s mom, Angel, sat in the wood-paneled living room with her head in her hands, crying softly. Everyone in the neighborhood called her Angel because of her looks and singing voice. They always remarked about how beautiful she was, even with some of the premature streaks of grey in her dark hair. Sometimes the family went to church, and when they did, she was always invited to join the choir. She refused every time, afraid that someone would somehow discover her secret.
Jamie sat on the worn, brown couch beside her, the springs underneath the cushions beginning to protrude, and lifted her head. The purple ring that had formed around Angel’s left eye couldn’t be disguised by any amount of makeup. This wasn’t the first of its kind. Usually, the bruises were on places hidden by clothes; occasionally, there were broken bones. This was the secret she was keeping from friends at church. Jamie had a secret of his own, however; Angel was not the only one sustaining injuries. Jamie often bore the brunt of Hank’s misfortunes, and he did his best to hide it from her.
“Why don’t we just leave? Why do you let him do this to you?” Jamie asked.
“Where would we go?” asked Angel. “There’s no one to take us in, and we can’t just leave. You’re sixteen; you’re still in school. I’m sure things will get better soon. He’ll get word on unemployment any day now, and then he can afford to find another job. He’s just having a tough break. We all are. Everyone is.”
“Not everyone responds the way he does, though. Not every unemployed husband is beating his wife. Besides, the hits don’t occur only when he’s taking hits. This shit’s been going on for years,” he said.
“Honey, it’s only been once or twice, and he apologized right after.”
Once or twice a month , he thought. He had always kept quiet, but not for Hank’s sake. He could care less about what happened to him; he remained silent for his mom. She would believe her son, there was no doubt about that, but she was right, where would they go? It would only make things more difficult for her.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “But sooner or later, somebody’s gonna give him a taste of it. And I hope I’m there to see it.”
Jamie walked to his bedroom, glancing at Hank out of the corner of his eye. He noticed Hank looking back at him, as if he were waiting to see if Jamie were going to make a move. Hank looked like he wanted Jamie to do something. The teen kept walking to his room, closing his door behind him.
Jamie wasn’t a popular kid in school. The female student’s often talked about how attractive he was, but that’s as far as they took it. He had what they considered a beautiful face, framed by alt-rock style blond hair. They labored to think of anyone else as good-looking as Jamie. But they also considered him too weird. He was known as a loner. He had a few acquaintances, but none he really hung out with. His mom would often tell him to get out of the house, to go somewhere, be
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