Cracks in the Sidewalk(69)

“Yeah. He lives up in heaven.”

“And what does He do in heaven?”

“He watches over little kids.”

“And what are you supposed to do so that God knows to watch over you?”

“Say my prayers,” David answered dutifully.

“And do you say your prayers?”

“No,” Kimberly exclaimed. “He doesn’t.”

“Do you?” Elizabeth asked her daughter.

“Sometimes,” she answered tentatively. “When David doesn’t bother me.”

~

Jeffrey stomped out the second cigarette and lit a third. He could hear the excited voices inside. He knew they were laughing at him and the way he shivered on the cold cement step while they stayed warm and comfortable and had a fine time. Liz wanted people to feel sorry for her, but he was the one who deserved their pity. He was the one up to his knees in bills. He was the one responsible for taking care of three kids—kids who, judging from the sound of their laughter, enjoyed being with Liz more than him.

He tossed his cigarette onto the walkway then twisted and ground it until it was nothing but shreds of tobacco. He stood, took two steps across the walkway then two steps back. Once, twice, then again and again, pacing as the anger inside of him swelled and pushed against his skin.

At first he didn’t notice the rain, but when the wind pushed the icy drops inside the collar of his jacket, he moved beneath the overhang. Now closer to the door, he heard their words clearly. Charlie told David he’d take him to a Yankees game in the spring.

“Over my dead body,” Jeffrey grumbled as a frigid droplet slithered down his back. The rain began to fall harder and wind gusts blasted his face. He moved closer to the door until his back pressed against it.

Suddenly the door opened and Jeffrey tumbled inside, landing on his back and looking up at Liz leaning on her walker.

“What the hell are you trying to do, cripple me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to ask if you and the kids could stay for lunch.”

Scrambling to his feet, he gave her an angry glare and snarled, “No.” He heard David and Kimberly already at the dining room table.

“You’ve got forty minutes,” he said, eyeing his watch. “Then we’re out of here.”

“But, Jeffrey—”

“Twelve noon!” he said, tapping the face of his watch. “You’ve got the kids until twelve noon, not one minute longer!”

“That’s not fair,” she argued. “You were late getting here, and you didn’t even bring Christian. Judge Brill said—”

Jeffrey took a step forward and jabbed a finger at Elizabeth’s face. “Don’t start with me. You think because your daddy’s got money, you can bully me around?Try it and see what happens!”

“I wasn’t trying to bully you into anything. I only thought maybe we could spend some time together as a family.”

“Spend time together?” His face crumpled in disbelief. “You’re crazy! Only a crazy person would ask me to spend time with someone I hate.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Yes, I do! I can’t even stand to be around you! You know what I wish? I wish you’d hurry up and die so me and the kids can get on with our life!”

Tears rimmed Elizabeth’s eyes.

“Jeffrey,” she whispered.

But he stormed down the walkway. She bit her lip as she watched him, his steps crashing against the cement, his body hunched against the cold, his movements deliberate and unrelenting.

“Are you all right?” Charlie asked from behind Elizabeth.

Torn between sorrow and shame, Elizabeth tried to force a smile.

“It was nothing,” she said. “You know Jeffrey. He can be a hothead at times.”

“We’ll see about that!” Charlie moved toward the walkway.

“Don’t,” Elizabeth said softly.

The muscle in Charlie’s jaw twitched as he stepped back inside the door and wrapped his arms around his daughter’s trembling shoulders.

“He’s not worth it,” he whispered, pushing back his own anger to comfort his daughter.

Together they stood there for several minutes, until Elizabeth lifted her head from his shoulder and said, “We’d better get back to the kids.”

Charlie nodded, saying nothing more even though he’d already decided what had to be done.





Claire McDermott


I’m not deaf. I heard every word Jeffrey said, but what could I do with David and Kimberly sitting at the table waiting for me to pour milk? I tried to pretend the commotion was nothing and covered it up by asking if they wanted cookies. I know both kids heard Jeffrey screaming, but they didn't mention it. They didn’t have to; the frightened looks on their poor little faces made it obvious. Kimberly’s only four so she probably didn’t understand the maliciousness of her father’s words. David understood. I know he did, because he ducked his head like a child who’d already learned to hide from anger.

Hearing one parent speak to the other in such a way is something kids don’t forget. It roots itself in their impressionable minds and leaves an ugly mark. Kids exposed to such behavior eventually accept meanness as the way of the world, and they pass it on to others. It’s unthinkable that any father would offer his babies such a heritage.