A Moment Before

Four...

This was it. Her insides clenched together and fear began slowly, suddenly, engulfing her. As they pulled into Lexi's neighborhood, she began to tense. Maybe Chuck will be there? No. I can't see him it can't happen. A big banner ran across the chipped brown garage door. 'WELCOME HOME LEXI!' balloons scattered around the red, white, and blue letters. Her mom, tall and blonde, stood next to her big, marine, dad.

He was a marine when she was young. Disappointed that she chose the army to carry on the legacy but at this moment his face was only flooded with relief that she was standing there in front of him. Her relationship with her father had always been very conflicting. It didn't take long for her to end her quest in gaining his affection. He was too stern for emotion. In fact, she had never seen him cry or hear him share a feeling. He never held her mother's hand or kissed her cheek. Strange, how a daughter can become more like the man she rarely spoke to over the mother she was never without.

The life he lived when he was young may explain why he had become the man he was. His real father left his family when he was only 15. Leaving his mother alone with four children to raise. He told her stories of his younger life. Ones that make your stomach ache. His youngest brother was born of a different father. This man came back to his mother. He was a perverted man who seemed to lack a purpose in his life. They were living in a trailer in a small, trashy, town. Nights where food would be on the table were rare.

Her father had a dog that him and his brother adored. Of the few possessions they owned, this dog was by far their most prized. Lexi tried to imagine the dog as her father would tell the story. She saw a pup with curly golden fur and a stout nose. It had a high-pitched bark when a squirrel would scamper by. His step father came home one night, drunker than most. The door smacked shut as he kicked it in, regaining his balance. Him and his brother were sitting on the tattered couch with the pup laying at their feet. The old man grabbed the dog by the skin of its neck and dragged it out back. Lexi's father ran after the pervert yelling over the sound of the pup's yelps. His step dad grabbed his shotgun, and for no reason at all, shot the dog in the head. His younger brother cried at the sounds but remained on the couch. Her dad buried the dog and hurried inside to hug his brother.

He told her that when he was a boy he was walking home from school and two kids attacked him. They were crossing the train tracks, one of them held him and the other stabbed him in the ribs with a small pocket knife. That story she found difficult to believe, until he lifted his shirt to show her the scar. Often, his mother was in and out of jail or psychiatric hospitals, putting the siblings in foster homes. He had a best friend, though. She lived in a slightly more stable home. When things were rough in his house he would take sanctuary with her. And when he was pushed into a foster house he would escape its clutches and run away to her. They were romantic and Lexi believed she was one of the women he had an affair with. She was unfortunate to be the host of secrets like these, her father's secrets. 

---As a child, I strived for the approval of my father. It wasn't often you found a tiny curly brown-haired girl playing with a GI Joe. Or in the front yard trying to keep up with the neighborhood boys in a rough game of football. I was supposed to be wearing too much mascara. Instead I wore a black eye every so often, draped in a thick layer of mud. My brother had stolen his heart. His first child and only son. I was no good at being daddy's little princess. And I didn't try to be.

He had an office in our basement. I don't remember it like that, though. What I remember is crawling down the stairs, as if I were a lion stalking my prey, into the room my sisters played. Here I pushed through the jungle of toys, still crawling. I was pretending I was a spy on a top-secret assignment. When I got to the door that led to his office I stopped and inched it open, checking to see if he was in there. My dad was the target. Steal the weapon, stapler, from his drawer and return it to headquarters, my bedroom. But today he was not there. I sprung to my feet and sat in the swiveling chair behind his desk.