Promises to Keep - Ann Tatlock [10]
At eleven years of age I didn’t quite understand. Oh yes, Daddy had his faults. That much I knew. Sometimes he drank too much, and the alcohol seemed to ignite some deep well of anger inside him. He could be violent; oh yes, I knew that too. I’d seen it all – seen the fists, heard the curses, saw the aftermath of his fury in the bruises on Mom’s face. And whenever that happened, I was afraid. But I tried to shut it all out as simply as I shut my eyes, pretending that if I couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there. Because Daddy had a good side too, and there were times when he was all smiles and fun and laughter and even love. He said he loved us, and I believed him.
I was thinking about Daddy that summer morning when Tillie and I were walking to Jewel Food Store, with Tillie pulling Valerie behind us in the wagon. Not yet used to the stranger beside me, I was startled when she asked, “Do you miss him?”
I looked up at her sharply. “Who?”
“Your father,” she said. “Weren’t you thinking about your father?”
“How did you know?”
She lifted her broad shoulders in a shrug. “I just figured.”
I looked straight ahead again, down the treelined street that led into the center of town. I didn’t know how to answer. Finally I simply said no. Which was a lie, because I did miss him; or rather, I missed the good part of him.
Tillie shook her head. “Pity, three children growing up without their father.”
I felt my fingers curl into fists. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“No,” she agreed. “I don’t. Still, it’s a pity.”
I didn’t want to talk about my father, not with her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about him or even should be thinking about him, since Mom had said we were leaving the past behind and making a fresh start.
In truth, though, I was haunted by Daddy’s tears on the day we left Minnesota. Mom didn’t say a word while she carried our few suitcases to the car, Daddy dancing around her like a man on fire.
“At least,” Daddy said, his hands outstretched, “at least tell me where you’re taking my kids.”
He looked at me then, his eyes wild, sweat pouring down his face. Our eyes locked, and I couldn’t stop my own tears. I wanted to cry out, Daddy! Tell Mom you’ll change. Just promise you’ll stop drinking, and maybe Mom will stay!
But I didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t do any good. Mom had made up her mind, and we were going.
We all piled into the car. Mom buckled Valerie into the front seat beside her and turned the key in the ignition. Daddy banged on the roof of the car with one fist and then, as though surrendered, he stumbled blindly up the walkway to the porch and dropped down to the steps. He buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders heaved as he wept.
“Look at him now, the old fool,” Wally muttered. “He’s finally getting what he deserves.”
At least we should have left when Daddy wasn’t home, I thought. If we had to leave, we should have left without this wrenching away, without this scene of separation that left Daddy broken and crying on the steps.
Mom must have been worried that Daddy would try to keep us from going, because she’d asked Uncle Joe to be there when we left. Uncle Joe was Daddy’s brother, and he was the only one on Daddy’s side of the family who understood why Mom was leaving. Just as Mom started the car, Uncle Joe leaned in the open window and wished her luck. “My only regret,” he said, “is that I didn’t help you do this a long time ago.”
“Well, Joe,” Mom said, “I appreciate what you’ve done for me over the years.”
“It was never enough.”
“It was more than most.”
Uncle Joe looked up at Daddy, his face a billboard of contempt. “I’m finished too,” he said. “I’m washing my hands of him. If I never hear from Alan again, it’ll be too soon.”
He bent down and kissed Mom on the cheek, said good-bye to us kids, and stepped away from the car. When Mom put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, I saw her glance in the rearview mirror and smile, a small victorious smile. But even then I didn’t understand.
Years would pass before