The Heat of The Moment

I can't recall hearing much about domestic violence in the 80's. I mean I was all too familiar with violence in my home and in the homes of some of my friends but I'm not sure it was looked upon the same way it is today...

Mid-summer in Elkhart was hot and humid. It didn't matter to much to me. I was just a kid and those were just words on the weather report. Temperature... like the length of summer was irrelevant. It just was. I've grown older and more heat intolerant so I understand that back then... during that especially hot year... the rising thermometer may have crept into the psyche of the vulnerable.

I liked to eat ice... I'd run up the stairs to our apartment.. which was even hotter.. and fill a glass with ice. Then I'd go back downstairs to the porch and crunch it while I cooled off. My clothes were usually soaked in the sweat of hard play so any air stirring would cool me. The street was only a few feet from the stoop where I sat so I would enjoy the breeze of a passing car while I finished my ice. Sometimes I'd run back up and get another.

My Step-father was at home and hold up in his room. I suppose in retrospect the thundering of my footsteps could have been an irritant... but on my return trip he came out of his room just as I entered the kitchen.

Of course today I can look back at him through the minds eye of a man seasoned by time and experience and see him for what he was... but back then he was imposing. He was tall... arrogant... lanky and pale. He was angry most of the time and he drank. I can't really remember seeing him drink. I just remember seeing him drunk. And that day he was drunk. He barked at me and told me to get out of the freezer. I told him I was just getting ice but the words had no sooner left my lips when the freezer door slammed into my face. Tears immediately flooded my vision. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

I remember a little of the drive to the hospital. And I remember seeing our downstairs neighbor when we got there. He worked at Elkhart General. He smiled at me when I came in. It was an... I feel sorry for you smile... but he had kind eyes. I don't know if I smiled back.

The doctor came in... my nose was broken. He asked what happened and my Step-father spoke up quickly and related that it was an accident. The doctor asked to speak to me alone and I confirmed it was an accident. I don't know why I lied... I just felt as though I had to.

The next couple of weeks were tense... I wont lie... I played the injury for all the sympathy I could muster from my Mother and all the while I was feeling less and less afraid of my Step-father. I guess I felt like I had something on him. I'd manage a glare here and there... and a little back talking. The cruel little games he'd play... like the one in which he would ask which arm I wanted to be able to use today... had stopped. The beatings with a belt had stopped... all these things bolstered my position. I didn't push very far... but I was enjoying the reprieve. 

Like I said... I didn't see him drink... he was just drunk. But one day a short time after the trip to the hospital I saw him sitting in the parking lot... passed out in his old Ford Fairlane. I eased up to the car and spoke to him...nothing. I nudged his shoulder and he slid over in the seat... an empty whiskey bottle between his thighs. I'd like to say that what happened next was an accident and that I didn't know. But I knew enough to realize that you couldn't even leave a dog cooped up in a car in the blistering heat. Honestly I can't even remember rolling the window up... but I must have. With the door closed he wasn't visible to anyone... including me and I went back to playing... out of sight... out of mind I suppose.

I was coming back from the park when I heard the sirens. I'd heard the sound of police cars coming to our house but never an ambulance. He lived of course... He wasn't happy when he got home but he never said a word... in fact he never said an unkind word to me again. He kept his distance for the remainder of his stay with us. I never told anyone until now.