Liars Garden

Chapter 14

I was eleven when my sister went out to go play in the yard. Chris he had gone with a friend to the beach. I was supposed to be in the yard with her. We had a little swimming pool set up out back and dad had just bought us a sandbox complete with shovels and pails because we both were upset that we hadn't gone to the beach too. I had wanted to go out there, get sand between my toes, and wet my new bathing suit with water straight from our garden hose, but I heard them fighting and I had paused.

Their voices were coming from down the hall. Mom had slammed the bathroom door hard enough to leave a mark. That mark had been fixed later when mom had declared that bathroom as hers and hers alone. Dad's voice snapped after her, angered by her attitude and her aggressive display.

"You're always about them, never me," mom screamed from her spot on the stairs. Those eyes of hers stared right at me when she said it. Dad had stepped in front of me and told me to go outside, it was fine.

I should have went.

The fighting just kept getting louder and louder. At eleven I knew she had been angry about the sandbox. My child self had followed the voices, tears running down my tiny face.

"Don't do this, Shannon," dad's voice was angry. "Don't be so selfish. I'm so sick of this attitude. You're a narcissistic bitch. Our kids deserve so much better."

Leslie yelled for me from the back. Why hadn't I gone out to her? Mom and dad had fought all the time. Every day almost. But this had felt different. The staircase enticed me up, one step at a time. The voices had grown so much louder. Words came to me that I had barely understood.

Then the big one had burst from my fathers mouth: Divorce.

I had stopped where I was. The voices had gone silent. Leslie's splashing had been so loud in that quietness.

"What?"

"You heard me. I already put the papers in. I was going to wait till the papers were served but I can't do this, Shannon. I'm done."

"You can't..."

"I can and I have. I'm done."

Maybe I had emotions for these words. I just remember being numb as I got to the top landing. Mom and dads door had been wide open and I could see dad grabbing handfuls of his clothing from the dresser.

This room later turned into my room. I still owned that dresser, in the same spot.

"You can't do this to me!"

Mom's voice just kept repeating these words. Her shadowed played against the wall. Dad hadn't said anything as he grabbed a bag from under their bed. It had been a laundry bag.

He had been that done.

His head turned toward me. Maybe he had heard me or maybe he had sensed someone there.

"Annie, baby. Go get your sister. Both of you pack a bag, we are going on a little trip, okay?"

"NO!"

Mom's voice echoed down the hallway. She had charged at dad, her hand raised to slap him. "You won't take my kids, you bastard. You're not leaving!" Dad had caught her hand and pushed it to her side.

"Shannon, we are done here. I'm not leaving them with you," dad had said with such sternness I barely recognized him. "Annie, honey, go now."

I turned but mom blew by me, knocking me to my butt. Tears had welled up but I kept them down. The sound of my mother had been similar to a raging bull. She had been slamming drawers and screaming, her words harsh and horrible. It had been raw, unhinged anger.

Maybe halfway down the stairs I had been knocked aside by mom again. She had something in her hand. Something I hadn't known we had as a child. In that moment my child brain had screaming but my mouth had gone bone dry.

Maybe I should have screamed.

Instead I had raced behind her but I had been so much smaller then her. I had hit the landing by the time mom had gotten into the room.

The scene had gone slow from there.

Mom had been just in the doorway, her arms raised. I stared at her back and over her shoulder I had been able to see my dad. He had ignored her, continuing to shoved his belongings into his laundry bag. Mom had screamed at him. He had ignored him.

And that's when she had fired the shots.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

I had screamed.

Mom had screamed louder.

Dad had remained silent.

The only noise he made was his body hitting the hardwood floor.

I had kept screaming and screaming. Mom had walked over to me and shook me good and hard.

"Shut up, shut up!" she had yelled with every hard shake till I had quieted.

There had been blood on the floor, leaking everywhere. There had been blood spatters all over mom's clothing, face, and hair.

She had shot him from so close....

"You have to promise me you won't tell anyone about this, Annie," Mom had said for the first time. "You need to promise me now!"

"I....I..." I had started bawling. Dad hadn't moved once. 

"Say it!" She had slapped me then.

"I promise!"

She had given me a little kiss on the forehead and smiled. "That's my girl. Now, hun, we need to clean this up. Come here."

I did what I was told.

Dad had been heavy and already going cold when I had touched him. Mom had barely helped drag him to the hallways, his head on her shoulder like she hadn't just shot him. There had been three round, bloody holes in his shirt.

Mom had left me in the hallway, barely able to hold dad's dead weight, when Leslie came to the stairs. Her tiny gasp had made me look. Dad's weight had gone forward and down there stairs he had gone.

And thus mom made Leslie promise to never tell anyone that I had pushed dad down the stairs.

It hadn't been my fault.

It never had been my fault.

But mom made it all about me.