Page 87 of Old Fashioned
“Iknowyou fucked him in this house, inourhouse,” he spat. “Howdareyou?”
“Your daughter is inside,” I reminded him, hushing my own voice while he raised his. “You’re drunk, Randy. Go home.”
“I’m reporting you to child services, you ungrateful bitch.”
I gaped at him. “What iswrongwith you?”
“I’ll tell them you’re an unfit mother, that you’re fucking strange men in the house when Paige is awake and can hear it all, doing drugs, partying all night.”
“Literallynoneof that is true and you know it.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” he seethed. “Now, you can make this all go away if you just agree to have dinner with me.”
At that, his eyes softened, and I struggled with not letting my jaw drop farther at his audacity.
“You know me,” he said quietly. “You know how I grew up with nothing, how I worked so hard to get everything I have now. And you…” He shook his head, looking at me with reverence. “You were my crowning jewel. You were the best part of my life. I don’t want to live without you anymore.”
It was the same shit he’d pull on me after he hit me or we had a fight. He’d bring up his childhood, blame his parents or his abusive older brother for his behavior. He’d tell me I was his everything, that I was the one thing that kept him going, that made everything okay.
But I saw through the lies, eventually.
I was nothing but a prize to him, a toy he could control and play with when he pleased.
One dinner, Syd,” he begged. “Give me a chance to remind you what we had. We can try again. We can—”
He was reaching out for me to caress my cheek, but I backed away, trying again to shut the door on him. “Randy. Stop.”
“Come on, sweetheart.”
I cringed, backing away from his touch again. “Randy, you need to leave. I mean it. If you don’t, I’ll—”
“You’llwhat?” he challenged, his eyes wild now that he hadn’t gotten his way. The stench of whiskey rolled off of him in plumes thick enough to fog the entire town as he latched onto me, his hand wrapping around my wrist and crushing it the way he had last night at the game. “Call the cops? Iamthe cops, sweetheart.”
“Daddy?”
We both ripped around in time to see Paige’s bottom lip protrude, tears flooding her eyes as the pancake she’d just made slipped off the plate she was holding and flopped onto the floor.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I assured her. “Just go up to your bedroom and—”
“Daddy, let go of Mama,” she said through her tears, and then she had her hands wrapped around my arm, trying to pull me away from Randy.
“It’s okay, honey,” I told her again before I narrowed my eyes at Randy and whispered. “Let. Me.Go.”
“Not until you agree!”
Paige was crying harder now, and Randy’s grip tightened on me so hard that I winced and crumbled forward at the pain shooting up my arm.
Suddenly, Paige let out a scream, and then she wrapped her little hands around Randy’s arm, instead, and with all her might — she bit him.
Randy yelped, yanking his arm back and holding it in shock. It was just enough time for me to shove him backward as hard as I could manage, and I didn’t wait to see if he fell or regained his balance before I slammed the door shut and locked it. I ran to the sliding glass door next, making sure it was locked, too, and then I rushed back to where Paige was at the front door.
She had giant tears rolling down her cheeks and more building in her eyes when I pulled her into me, and I sank down to the floor, my back against the front door as my daughter sobbed into my chest.
From the other side came a cynical laugh. “This isn’t over, Sydney,” Randy sang. “You belong tome.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, and Paige held me tighter, shaking and crying in my arms. I couldn’t be sure how much time passed before I heard the car door to his cruiser slam shut, and then the squealing of tires as he pulled away.
I let out a gasp, my hands frantic where I smoothed Paige’s hair and held her to me and assured her everything was alright. But I knew it was a lie. Things werenotokay, and they hadn’t been for a long time.
