Her Own Wings

Liz, Four Years Old

Liz and her family had just finished dinner.  Mommy sent her to her room to play and was putting her baby sister, Kim, to bed for the night.

"Lizziebelle, I'm going to put Kim to bed, clean the kitchen, then it will be time for you to go to bed.  I'll be back in a few minutes to get you ready for bed.  Play with your dollies until I come back."

"Ok, Mommy."

She ran to her Mom, wrapped her small arms around her Mom's legs, hugging and smiling up at her Mom.  After Mom left, she pulled her collection of dolls, doll clothes and brushes out from underneath her bed.

She sat on the floor; legs crossed, and was playing dress-up with her dolls.  She was brushing a dolls hair, when she heard Mom's voice in the kitchen.  She couldn't tell what Mom was saying, but could tell Mom was crying.  Again.

"Dollie, I hate it when Mommy cries.  It means that Sir, Father is being mean again, Dollie.  He is always mean to Mommy when he drinks beer.  Should we sneak out, Dolly, and pour his beer away?"  she paused, pretending that Dolly was answering her.

"Shhh, Dolly!  We have to be very quiet.  If Sir, Father hears us, he'll come in here and yell at us.  I bet he's mad at Mommy for crying.  He doesn't like to see tears.  Tears make Sir, Father get angry and get mean."

"Yes, Dolly, you're right, Sir, Father can be very nice sometimes.  He is nice and a lot of fun when he doesn't drink the beer.  But, when he does, he gets mean.  It is important that we are very quiet so he doesn't come in.  If we make any sound, Dolly, even a cough, he might come in our room and scream at us, and yell at us and hit us.

* * *

He always wanted to be called 'Sir.'  Yes Sir, no Sir, just a moment, Sir.  No matter what, he wanted to be Sir.  He said it was a sign of respect.  He also preferred to be called Father.  Not Dad or Daddy, Pop, Pa or Papa.  Father.  She never understood it.  In her mind, the phrase, "Yes Sir, Father" morphed and his name became "Sir Father."  She called him that for as long as she could remember.  By the time she was old enough to know better, she had called him Sir Father for long enough that everyone was used to it.  What he didn't know was that she called him Sir Father now as more of a derisive nickname.  She hated her father, because he was so mean.  So, calling him Sir Father had the outward sign of showing him respect that he demanded, but gave her a secret way to rebel.

* * *

Liz tuned out the cacophony of Mommy and Sir, Father squabbling in the front of the house, and the sound of her Mom sobbing.  She was good at ignoring those sounds, because she heard them almost daily.  It became her habit escape to her imaginary world so she could play there, and not be aware of what was going on around her.  It helped her not feel the bad feelings in life so much.

"Uhoh, Dollie.  I need to go to the bathroom."  She paused to give Dollie a chance to answer.
"Yes, I know Sir, Father is still awake.  I hear him too."  She paused.  "Yes, I know, if he hears me go, he'll yell at me.  I gotta go, so I'll be very quiet."

She walked to her door and listened.  Things got quiet in the other room.  She tried to be very quiet and turned the doorknob slowly, then gently pushed her door open, and paused.  She didn't hear anything, so she hurried down the hall to the bathroom.  She heard his voice, but he wasn't talking to her, so she finished up and was heading back to her room and he came stumbling down the hall, and spotted her.

"Liz, what are you doing awake?"

"Uh, I was playing with my dolls."

"Isn't it past your bedtime, Liz?"