what is it, cookie?”
Like Grandma, I blinked and blinked.
“Uh-oh. Here come the banana splits,” he said.
Daddy used to say that whenever I cried. Before. Then he’d take out his handkerchief, wipe my eyes and say,
Let’s mop it up, honey.
I’d forgotten. I’d never cried here.
Grandma would be back soon. The question pressed harder against my throat.
“Cat got your tongue?” Daddy smiled and tipped his head down, looking all wise and kind, as though we were in an episode of
The Brady Bunch.
“Why’d you stab me, Daddy?” I whispered. Words rushed out like throw-up. “Why’d you try to kill me?” Daddy backed away as though my soft words were little knives. Now I was the stabber.
“You remember?” His voice sounded thin, like it came from high up in his throat.
Daddy pushing me away from the kitchen. Mama lying on the floor.
Lie down, Merry. Lie down on Mama and Daddy’s bed. Be a good girl.
“I remember some stuff.”
Daddy holding the knife all covered in Mama’s blood.
This will only hurt for a second, baby.
No, Daddy, it hurt for a long time.
“I couldn’t do it.” He shook his head. “I started to, but I couldn’t. It didn’t go very deep.”
I opened my hand wide and covered the cotton shirt hiding my scar, as if Daddy might see through the fabric. I knew every bump of the ridge. It was purple-pink and straight. It was on my left side and the length of the memo pad in which I wrote my school assignments.
“Why did you want to hurt me?”
Answer my question, Daddy.
“Oh, baby girl. Booze had me dead-drunk mixed with stupid. Jealousy screwed me up bad. You’re too young to understand.” He put his head in his hands. I wanted to rip them away, pound his stupid dead-drunk jealous head.
“That’s why you did it to me?” I whispered, wondering how anyone ever drank.
“I didn’t want to leave you.” Daddy crossed his arms as though he were hugging himself. “I didn’t want to leave you all alone.”
“What about Lulu? Didn’t you care about her?”
“Booze knocked the sense from my head,” Daddy said. “And I was scared, baby.”
“But you were going to leave Lulu all alone? Afraid?” I felt the walls of the room closing in on me.
“Lulu could always take care of herself. You, you’re more like me.”
I’m not like you. I’m not.
“Oh, Jesus, Merry. I love you so much. All I have left in the world is you and Grandma. No one else cares if I live or die.” Daddy took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his knuckles. Now the guards would come. Now Grandma would be sad.
“I can’t stand the thought of you in that place,” Daddy said. “Damn Cilla and Hal putting you there. Damn cowards. Cilla, who expected anything from her? But Hal? I thought he was a stand-up guy. If I had just one minute alone with that guy, I swear.”
“I’m okay, Daddy. Everything’s fine.” I had to calm him down. Make him happy. Or maybe he’d hurt Aunt Cilla and Uncle Hal, even from in here.
“You shouldn’t be there.” He buried his head in his hands. It looked like maybe he swatted a tear away with his thumb. I couldn’t stand it if he cried. He didn’t have a handkerchief or tissues, or anything. Prisoners couldn’t bring anything into the visiting room. I wondered if Daddy could carry things around when he left his cell. Maybe they kept him locked up every minute. Did he ever get to watch TV? Did he have to shower and go to the bathroom in front of people?
Grandma and I visiting him was probably the most important thing in the world for my father, and I was ruining it.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” I repeated. “I’m all right.”
My father’s face got hopeful as the puppies in the pet store window on Flatbush Avenue.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Under the table, I twisted the skin on my arms. “After the pumpkin pie, we made pancakes.” I clasped my hands in my lap and gave him a big, happy smile. “With real maple syrup. We celebrated autumn. It
Like Grandma, I blinked and blinked.
“Uh-oh. Here come the banana splits,” he said.
Daddy used to say that whenever I cried. Before. Then he’d take out his handkerchief, wipe my eyes and say,
Let’s mop it up, honey.
I’d forgotten. I’d never cried here.
Grandma would be back soon. The question pressed harder against my throat.
“Cat got your tongue?” Daddy smiled and tipped his head down, looking all wise and kind, as though we were in an episode of
The Brady Bunch.
“Why’d you stab me, Daddy?” I whispered. Words rushed out like throw-up. “Why’d you try to kill me?” Daddy backed away as though my soft words were little knives. Now I was the stabber.
“You remember?” His voice sounded thin, like it came from high up in his throat.
Daddy pushing me away from the kitchen. Mama lying on the floor.
Lie down, Merry. Lie down on Mama and Daddy’s bed. Be a good girl.
“I remember some stuff.”
Daddy holding the knife all covered in Mama’s blood.
This will only hurt for a second, baby.
No, Daddy, it hurt for a long time.
“I couldn’t do it.” He shook his head. “I started to, but I couldn’t. It didn’t go very deep.”
I opened my hand wide and covered the cotton shirt hiding my scar, as if Daddy might see through the fabric. I knew every bump of the ridge. It was purple-pink and straight. It was on my left side and the length of the memo pad in which I wrote my school assignments.
“Why did you want to hurt me?”
Answer my question, Daddy.
“Oh, baby girl. Booze had me dead-drunk mixed with stupid. Jealousy screwed me up bad. You’re too young to understand.” He put his head in his hands. I wanted to rip them away, pound his stupid dead-drunk jealous head.
“That’s why you did it to me?” I whispered, wondering how anyone ever drank.
“I didn’t want to leave you.” Daddy crossed his arms as though he were hugging himself. “I didn’t want to leave you all alone.”
“What about Lulu? Didn’t you care about her?”
“Booze knocked the sense from my head,” Daddy said. “And I was scared, baby.”
“But you were going to leave Lulu all alone? Afraid?” I felt the walls of the room closing in on me.
“Lulu could always take care of herself. You, you’re more like me.”
I’m not like you. I’m not.
“Oh, Jesus, Merry. I love you so much. All I have left in the world is you and Grandma. No one else cares if I live or die.” Daddy took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his knuckles. Now the guards would come. Now Grandma would be sad.
“I can’t stand the thought of you in that place,” Daddy said. “Damn Cilla and Hal putting you there. Damn cowards. Cilla, who expected anything from her? But Hal? I thought he was a stand-up guy. If I had just one minute alone with that guy, I swear.”
“I’m okay, Daddy. Everything’s fine.” I had to calm him down. Make him happy. Or maybe he’d hurt Aunt Cilla and Uncle Hal, even from in here.
“You shouldn’t be there.” He buried his head in his hands. It looked like maybe he swatted a tear away with his thumb. I couldn’t stand it if he cried. He didn’t have a handkerchief or tissues, or anything. Prisoners couldn’t bring anything into the visiting room. I wondered if Daddy could carry things around when he left his cell. Maybe they kept him locked up every minute. Did he ever get to watch TV? Did he have to shower and go to the bathroom in front of people?
Grandma and I visiting him was probably the most important thing in the world for my father, and I was ruining it.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” I repeated. “I’m all right.”
My father’s face got hopeful as the puppies in the pet store window on Flatbush Avenue.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Under the table, I twisted the skin on my arms. “After the pumpkin pie, we made pancakes.” I clasped my hands in my lap and gave him a big, happy smile. “With real maple syrup. We celebrated autumn. It
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