Sweet Revenge

Everyone in the classroom stood or half-sat in our desks. We were armed with our backpacks slung over our shoulders waiting for that glorious dismissal bell to ring. At the sound, we charged the door hearing the faint voice of our teacher talking loudly at our exit, “Ya’ll have a great evening.” I heard a few voices responding with, “You, too, Mrs. Harper.” I was not one of those voices. I had a bus to catch that would take me home by 4:30 promptly or there would be hell to pay.

I knew exactly how long it took for the bus to arrive at the beginning of our dirt road to the house and so did my dad. He would be waiting. I hit the school’s metal door with full force, ran down 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8, 9, 10 steps, past the adjoining junior high building, through the elementary school playground, past the crepe myrtle trees to the parking lot where the buses stood like soldiers. Clearing my way, I ran to where bus 15 sat waiting for me. But it wasn’t there. The bus driver was there, but our old, exhausted bus that carried us away to our happy homes was not there. Huffing and puffing, I ran up to Mr. Driver demanding to know where the bus was. I had exactly 15 minutes to get home. I looked at my watch that timed my route home.4:10.

“Where’s the bus, Mr. Driver?” I asked while shifting my weight from foot to foot.

“It wouldn’t start this afternoon. Another bus is on it’s way. Hold on, it will be here shortly,” he replied.

“You don’t understand. I need to be headed home right now,” I stuttered.

“Calm down, Windy. It will be here shortly. Do you have a plane to catch or something?” he joked.

I glanced at my watch. 4:13

My heart was beating wildly as I walked away. Glancing around hoping to find another way to get home, I saw a chance. I ran up to Zeke Horton as he got into his pickup truck.

“Zeke!” I yelled. As I approached him, I asked breathlessly, “Can….I…..hitch…. a…. ride…. home…. with…. you? It’s…. important….that…. I ….get….home…. by ….4:30.”

“Sure. I can take you home. I need to go to the field house first,” he replied.

I glanced at my watch. 4:16

I waited as Zeke went inside the building and it seemed like it took forever for him to come out. I saw him with his gym bag walking and talking with his buddies. I glanced at my watch. 4:20. I hung my head and took deep breaths trying to slow my heart beat down. I wasn’t going to make it home before 4:30.

Zeke turned to go down the dirt road and I told him to let me off. I did not want him to see my shack of a house. He told me he didn’t mind taking me on down the road since it seemed to be at least a mile long. I glanced at my watch. 4:45. With tears, I stared into his eyes and didn’t say a word. I opened the door and ran the distance to the house.

I knew this road like the back of my hand. It was a typical Texas dirt road, worn hard, dry and full of holes. I knew where each hole was as I ran around them trying to make record time. At one point, I rubbernecked around making sure Zeke had left. He didn’t. He was sitting at the entrance of the road. Finally, I heard him put the truck in reverse and heard the smoothness of his tires on the highway as he drove away.

I ran up the steps to the porch, 1,2,3,4. I slung the screen door open and rushed in.

He stood leaning on the doorway to the kitchen. I felt the fire of anger emitting from his nose like an angry bull. I stood still and would not look into his face. I heard the familiar motion. His belt buckle was opening and I heard the sound of it being jerked through the loops on his pants.

Crying, I said, “I’m….sorry….daddy. The….bus….”

“Don’t give me your sorry ass excuses. I don’t want to hear it!” he yelled.

I heard the swish, swish of the belt coming at me like a whip. I looked up in time to see it lash out at me across my back. I moved the backpack around in time for it to cut into it instead of my skin. The leather then came down towards my leg as he shouted, “4:30! You are to be home at 4:30!” and he lashed out at me again.

I dropped my backpack down my leg and again, the whiplike belt landed solidly on it blocking the hit. He then grabbed my backpack and I gripped it for protection. However, I couldn’t align it with the hit on my other side. The belt slapped me across my back. He was always careful not to hit me where the red welts could be seen by the teachers.

“Slap, slap, slap,” the belt cried out as he continued.

Lying on the floor, the kicks started. I screamed through the painful beating. I curled up in a ball and covered my face as tears flowed through my fingers. Finally, it stopped. I heard his footsteps walking away. I glanced at my watch, 5:00. I slowly got up. I was sniffling, wiping my tears away and holding my side as I went to my room. I moved the curtain door aside and gently laid on my bed. I took the baby wipes from my backpack and wiped the dirt off me that had fallen from his boots while he kicked me.

I felt the curtain door being pulled back. I cringed but sat up. “It’s 5:30 bitch. Get in the kitchen and fix supper,” he barked.

Without looking at him, I made my way past him and went to the kitchen. I kicked the beer cans out of my way to the refrigerator.

After serving him his supper of fried chicken and beer, I went back to my room. This was our nightly routine. I never got to eat at home. Thank goodness for free breakfast and lunch at school.

I heard him snoring with the t.v. blaring the news. After finishing my homework, I worked on my valedictorian speech. Graduation was a month away. I hoped my bruises would not be visible and hoped no more beatings would occur. Even though the beatings had lessened as I got older they never stopped. At bedtime, I prayed for my mother who was buried at the city cemetery and prayed something would happen to my dad that would put him there too, but not next to her.

One day when I got home my dad was standing at the screen door with a beer in his hand. I hesitated before entering. He backed away and let me come inside. I noticed he was slurring his words, which was not unusual, because he stayed drunk most of the time. I was scared he was going to whip me with the belt he had in his hand, but he didn’t.

“I ne-ne need you to go to to-to town and get me s-s-some beer. I only have one six pack left. Here’s, here’s the money. And don’t do anything stupid while you are gone,” he mumbled hatefully.

I was more than glad to go to town. I would do just about anything to get out of that house.As I drove down the road to the highway, I was haunted by the sound of my mother’s screams. I couldn’t help but remember his hard fist against her weakened body. I shook my head to rid away that painful sound.

As I traveled on, little sprinkles of rain dotted the windshield. I looked up at the dark skies and wondered what would be worse? Driving in rain or back in that nasty old house with that nasty old man. I knew which was worse. I traveled on into town.

The rain clouds kept building on top of each other becoming bigger and bigger and darker and darker. As the rain fell harder, I was having trouble seeing out the windshield. Finally, I reached Lowe’s grocery store. I sat in the truck for a few minutes hoping it would die down enough so I could run in and get the stupid beer. I entered the store and took my sweet time walking up and down the aisles. I heard the weather alert sound on a t.v. in the back of the store.

“Tornadoes are to be expected in the area soon. You should be taking shelter,” the weatherman was saying. And then he went into the long explanation of how and where to take shelter. Suddenly the t.v. went off and the power went out.

The store manager was walking up and down the aisles announcing he was closing the store and that we all needed to find shelter.

I grabbed two six packs of beer and ran for the exit of the store. I just got out before the door slammed shut behind me. I saw a man’s Stetson blow across the parking lot and a lady screaming because her umbrella was turning inside out. She clung to it as rain drenched her. If our situation wasn’t so serious, I would have laughed. Rain was already puddling in the potholes as I ran to my truck. The rain drops felt like pebbles being thrown as they pounded against me. I jumped inside and felt immediate relief. I let out my held in breath, started the truck and pulled onto the highway. The radio was blaring out warnings about a tornado just outside of town and coming in our direction which also meant it was headed to our farm.

I sped down the highway and through the rear view mirror, I could see the funnel cloud behind me. The enemy was closing in. My heart was beating out of my chest as I pressed on the gas and flew down the highway. I skidded around the turn to the road home. I held tightly to the steering wheel as I bounced up and down and side to side as I hit every pothole there was. Rain drops mixed with the dirty water from the road covered my windshield which made it very hard to see. The quick burst of wind jolted the truck. I held on tight and pressed on.

I pulled up to the front of the house. I bailed out of the truck, took the steps two at a time and threw the screen door open and quickly stepped inside. The wind behind me slammed the door shut. Daddy was passed out on the couch. I stood looking down at him. His arm was hanging towards the floor. His fingers were relaxed holding a beer can upside down. The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside me at the sight of him. I glanced out the window behind the couch and saw the huge dark funnel of the tornado tearing up the road to the house. Trees were being uprooted, limbs were broken and tossed around as if the earth was being torn apart. I ran to the basement heaved the heavy door open and locked it behind me. I stumbled on down the steps where I was safe and sound.

It was just a few seconds later, when the hateful, twisting wind reached the house. The roaring blast sounded like a freight train coming through. I was sure the walls above me were being blown out. The small 2 x 4 window allowed me to watch pieces of the house flying by. Something hit the window and I jumped back. I prayed every nail of every board was blowing away. I wanted for there not be anything left standing. I wanted EVERYTHING to be tossed far away which included all the bad memories with it.

My lips parted into a smile as all the debris flew past the window.