Country Girl

A Week Of Freedom

As Mama drove, she rambled on about how excited she was and how she redid my room to match my age. I thought back to the day my parents decided on divorce. I was seven and they were fighting. I didn't know what was going on, they had been fighting for the past two months. And finally my mom had declared that she could no longer put up with my dad's crap and walked out. And now that I think back on it, she did the right thing, because my dad wasn't perfect. He used to be addicted to drugs. That was what triggered the fights.

So I know you're thinking "why would she want to live with her dad?"

Simple. Because my mom wanted to move to Oregon and I wanted to graduate here in Texas. She obviously didn't move to Oregon, but that was only because Bobby wouldn't move. So she only lived a good two hours away. That may not make much since, given I had was at the creek bank for three minutes and she was in the driveway when I got to Dad's, but I learned in her rambling that she had been on her way when she was talking to him.

"Rache. Rachel. Are you listening to me?" She asked.

"Oh, sorry, Mama. I'm just really tired," I said.

"Well, I said that Bobby will be gone for a week, so we'll get to do fun stuff!" She said.

"Are you serious?" I asked, happy. "Where is he gonna be?"

"At a football game with his buddies. They're making it a guys' week," she said.

"That's great!" I said, excited.

"Do you not like him?" She asked.

I sighed. "Not really. He's just... I just don't like him."

"Well, he adores you," she said.

"Oh, trust me," I muttered. "I know."

"You're so beautiful. More beautiful than your mother," he smirked at me.

I giggled, because he was being nice to me.

"Come here," he opened his arms.

I shook my head. "You're not my daddy."

"Oh, but on the contrary," he leaned forward. "I am."

"Nuh-uh!" I said.

"Come on. I wanna show you somethin'," he smirked.

I tilted my head to the side.

"Just trust me, baby doll," he said.

I didn't move.

"Your mama trusts me. Why don't you?" He asked.

"I don't really know you..." I whispered.

"Get to know me, baby doll," he kissed my forehead. "You're stuck with me all summer long."

"Fine," I sighed.

"Now," he patted his lap. "Come here, baby doll."

I was eight. I felt so stupid. Why was I so stupid as a child? The pain I had gone through was excruciating. And every time he did it, it lasted for five hours. You'd think he'd run out of material, but nope. Every time, it was something different. As I got older, it got worse. He actually made me do things. Things I didn't want to learn till I was older.

The first time he made me do something, I was fourteen. I won't tell you what he made me do, but it wasn't fun. I looked out the window and just focused on the positive. He would be gone for a whole week. Seven days, twenty-four hours each. I was going to enjoy my week of freedom.