truth of present and future.
It was my only option.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Some are born great,
some achieve greatness,
and some have greatness thrust upon them.”
~ William Shakespeare
DONATELLA- 8 YEARS OLD
“Do you feel better now, Super Dad?”
“Do not start with me, Mel; I’m doing all I can not to—”
“NOT TO WHAT?”
My eyes snapped open and I rolled over in my bed…my bed?
“Keep your voice down, she’s sleeping!” Daddy yelled.
Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and looked over to Wyatt’s bed, but he wasn’t there.
“You do this all the time, Liam! You are always undermining me!”
“I apologize for not letting you lock our daughter—”
“She was one room over, Liam!”
“She was crying!”
“SO WHAT?”
“I will not tell you again. Lower your fucking voice, Melody!”
“DO NOT BARK ORDERS AT ME!”
Walking to their door, I looked through the tiny opening just as my mom’s hand made a fist. She stood on the other side, her whole body shaking.
“You are always hard on her. She’ll grow up thinking you hate her. Worse, she might even hate you! For fuck’s sake, Mel, she doesn’t need to be —”
“Strong? Independent? A Callahan?” she asked, looking up at him.
“You know what I mean—”
“Yes. I do. She’s girl. She’s your little princess. When she cries, it breaks your big soft heart. Fine! I won’t bother with her. You can keep her locked away, feed her ice-cream and cake all day. When she turns grows up, she’ll be the type of woman who gets used then thrown away; she’ll be like Natasha.”
“Watch your mouth!”
“Or what, it might say too much of the truth?”
“Goddamn it, Mel!” Daddy raised his hands and balled his fists, but Mommy just crossed her arms like she did when she was waiting for us to get ready and we were late. “She’s eight; she’s already doing self-defense, you have her swimming before the sun is up, running before the sun goes down. Let her breathe! Let her enjoy something!”
“There you go again! Making it seem as if I don’t want her to enjoy anything in life! As if I’m torturing her for the fun of it. As if I don’t love my own daughter! Fuck you!”