Acts of Desperation(39)
“How’s your body?” she asked, toweling off her hair. “Sore?”
“Yeah, but not too bad. I think the bruising on my hip looks worse than it feels.”
“That’s good. And your mind?” she asked.
“I’m not going to harp on it. It happened. My mom and dad raised me to be tough, and I can look at the facts. He’s in jail so I’m safe. I don’t need to go into counseling or anything,” I said.
“Well…you sound like you so I won’t question it, but if you need to beat a dead horse, you know where to find me,” she said.
I laughed. “I’m fine. Really.”
“So, I guess since you’re here, it’s safe to assume you lovebirds are coming up for air?”
“Yeah, and I need to check in with the family and update them on everything. Maybe I can ask my dad if he has something sturdier for the door until we can get it fixed for real.”
“That’d be great actually—I forgot your dad can fix anything. I called and no one can come out till later in the week to look at it. You know it’ll be a special order too so who knows how long it’ll actually be until it’s fixed.”
“I’ll see what my dad can do. I’ll go throw on some fresh clothes and head out,” I said.
****
When I pulled up to my parents’ two-story maroon bricked house, I saw my sister’s car in the driveway. I walked in the front door and followed the voices in the dinette. My dad and Sarah were sitting at the round oak table where we ate all our family meals growing up. They were stern-faced while my mom sat in the family room with Sam and Will playing with an antique Fisher Price hospital from my childhood.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Hey honey,” my dad said. “You hungry?” One of the many things I love about my dad is his never ending desire to feed you until you burst—I presume it’s a German thing because my grandma did it too. “I’ve got some of Grandma’s dumpling soup on the stove.”
“I thought I smelled something. I always have room for that. What’s going on?” I asked, taking my coat off and tossing it on the back of one of their Windsor chairs. “There were some serious faces when I walked in,” I said.
“Fill a bowl and come back in,” Sarah said.
After ladling soup into a bowl in the kitchen, I walked back into the dinette and placed it on the counter to cool. Another loveable fact about my dad is he’ll never serve anyone food unless it is nuclear hot. If steam isn’t rolling up your nose while you eat it, it’s not hot enough. Many years of experience, and burned tongues, told me to let it be for a few minutes. “Ok, sooo…,” I said, leaning against the long row of handmade cabinets my dad had built twenty years prior.
“Anders let himself in last night. I woke up around midnight with him standing over the bed,” Sarah said in a hushed tone.
“I’m sorry. What?” I asked then I picked my chin up off the floor.
“Apparently, he was drunk and forgot he didn’t live there anymore. He used his garage door opener and came right in. I sat straight up in bed and flipped on the light just as he was getting undressed. I told him he needed to go, but he said it was still his house and he wasn’t leaving. He was so loud that he woke up Will. I finally got him to agree to sleep on the couch. When he woke up this morning, it was like everything was back normal and he just left. Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah, slightly,” I said. “You know you can press charges against him. There should be a restraining order in place barring him from coming into your home. He can’t come and go as he pleases, and he should know that being the omniscient attorney that he is,” I said.
“That’s what Dad and I were talking about. I was going to call Jax in the morning and to see what I should do. I can’t have that happen again. What if he’d crawled into bed with me?” She rubbed the goose bumps that had formed on her arms. “Looks like he’s lost a little weight though. Either his support group is working or he’s skipping meals and just drinking his dinners lately,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Without warning, Sam ran in. “Aunt Sember!” he said, slamming himself against my hip.
Reflexively, I pushed him away and winced. “Oh! Ouch, buddy,” I said, rubbing my hip. He looked up at me with sad eyes and sulked. “Oh it’s ok, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” I roughed up his hair and pulled him in. “I just have a booboo and you bumped right into it. It’s my fault really. I should have been looking.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at the ground, moping.
“Oh you knock that off right now and give me a hug already. I haven’t had enough chances to love on you lately.” He finally wrapped his skinny little arms around me and squeezed. “Ok, now if I squeeze you extra hard can you give grandma my hug?” I asked.
He enthusiastically nodded his head. I gave him a bear hug then he ran off.
“So what happened to you?” Sarah asked.
“That’s actually part of the reason I’m here…”
Chapter Seventeen
I told them the whole story, but I toned down the seriousness of the attack. I said John and I had a struggle, and I bumped my hip. I didn’t see the sense in scaring my family since ultimately I was fine. When I finished rehashing my tale, my dad’s reaction was what I would have expected—I had to talk him out of getting a gun and going to shoot John on the prison steps.