Beautifully Broken

6

Mom was still working at home. Dad was better.

We were out in the backyard having a picnic. It was a cool day. The sun was out but the wind was cool signifying the  coming autumn season.

I was playing with my rabbit, my dad's gift.

"Come on, Bugs. Bugs bunny here!" I ran around with carrots, trying to make my bunny chase me.

Mom came out with sandwiches and lemonade.

Dad was smiling as he watched me run.

Mom places the plate and pitcher on the table and went back inside to get some glasses.

Dad's phone started ringing and he excused himself to head inside just as mom came back out.

Her face changed as dad walked by her. Her breathing was more rapid and her eyes darted around until they landed on me.

She gave me a quick smile. "Stay here, Mina."

She went back in and I tiptoed towards the back door. It was open just a bit and I peered inside.

Mom was yelling at dad. Dad was yelling back. His arms were flying as his face changed into one of anger.

Mom stepped back, tears in her eyes.

"How long have you been keeping this from me?" She whispered.

I looked at dad and saw his face soften. "Please. Just forget about it. Let's just spend tonight together."

Mom's face showed conflict. Should she surrender or keep fighting?

I step back and stumble backwards off the platform.

The door opens and mom stands over me with a sad smile.

"Come on, Mina. Let's clean up and get you to your nap." She says, helping me up.

For the rest of the week, things seemed fine. Mom and dad were sweeter than ever. But then it happened again.

Mom was cleaning the kitchen when she heard the front door open and dad came in with tousled hair and unkempt clothes.

"Where have you been?" She asked, her eyes wary.

He hesitated but said he went to work.

She let it go. But it kept happening. Mom was so fed up, their fights happened every night. So many once treasured china vases were broken.

Mom had bruises and cuts that scarred her Spanish beauty.

Dad didn't care. I often casually walked downstairs but would freeze in fear when I saw things flying and my mom on the floor.

After a year, mom decided to start working again. Dad stayed at home. She could forget and release her emotions and he could keep doing what he was addicted to.

Then came the summer after fifth grade.

Mom was away at work. Dad was at home.

I had grown a few inches taller and I was a bit more conscious of the way I dressed and looked.

I walked into the house, hoping he was in a good mood. I realized that being in a bad mood would've been better.

He was too high on affection and alcohol.

His eyes were watching me as I made my way upstairs and into my old room.

He knocked on my door that night and I allowed him in. He locked the door and to my horror, I was stripped of my childhood.