Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

“Paigey, why don’t you go make a pancake for your dad, huh?” I asked her, smiling and smoothing down her wild curls as she grinned up at me.

“Okay!” she said, and bounded past me and back into the kitchen.

I narrowed my eyes at Randy then, standing in the doorway so he knew he wasn’t invited in. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“It’s my fucking house.”

I ignored my urge to argue that point. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” he seethed back, and then his eyes traveled the length of my body in my thin pajamas.

I crossed my arms over my chest in disgust.

“You’re drunk,” I whispered, careful as to not let Paige hear. “Go sleep it off.”

“I talked to your boyfriend last night.”

I stilled at that, and Randy’s grin grew even more wicked where it grew on his ashen face.

“Oh yeah, we had a great little chat at the high school after he’d unloaded the bus. You see, when I saw the way you were looking at him on the field, when I started putting the pieces together from everything Paige had been saying about him, I knew something was up.” He shook his head, as if he pitied me. “You were at his brother’s wedding, Sydney. I’m not stupid.”

“It’s none of your business who I date.”

“Funny,” he said on a laugh. “That’s what Jordan said, too. But he also said that you guys broke up.” He tilted his head at that. “And you know, it got me thinking… what has our poor daughter been subjected to all this time that I’ve been gone? First, being allowed to play football — a dangerous sport, mind you — without her father’s consent. And her mother bringing strange men around… sleeping with them in our home… going through toxic breakups…”

I moved to slam the door in his face and dismiss him, but his hand caught it quickly, and he stepped a foot over the threshold, his nose inches from mine.

“I know you fucked him in this house, in our house,” he spat. “How dare you?”

“Your daughter is inside,” I reminded him, hushing my own voice while he raised his. “You’re drunk, Randy. Go home.”

“I’m reporting you to child services, you ungrateful bitch.”

I gaped at him. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’ll tell them you’re an unfit mother, that you’re fucking strange men in the house when Paige is awake and can hear it all, doing drugs, partying all night.”

“Literally none of that is true and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” he seethed. “Now, you can make this all go away if you just agree to have dinner with me.”

At that, his eyes softened, and I struggled with not letting my jaw drop farther at his audacity.

“You know me,” he said quietly. “You know how I grew up with nothing, how I worked so hard to get everything I have now. And you…” He shook his head, looking at me with reverence. “You were my crowning jewel. You were the best part of my life. I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

It was the same shit he’d pull on me after he hit me or we had a fight. He’d bring up his childhood, blame his parents or his abusive older brother for his behavior. He’d tell me I was his everything, that I was the one thing that kept him going, that made everything okay.

But I saw through the lies, eventually.

I was nothing but a prize to him, a toy he could control and play with when he pleased.

One dinner, Syd,” he begged. “Give me a chance to remind you what we had. We can try again. We can—”

He was reaching out for me to caress my cheek, but I backed away, trying again to shut the door on him. “Randy. Stop.”

“Come on, sweetheart.”

I cringed, backing away from his touch again. “Randy, you need to leave. I mean it. If you don’t, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he challenged, his eyes wild now that he hadn’t gotten his way. The stench of whiskey rolled off of him in plumes thick enough to fog the entire town as he latched onto me, his hand wrapping around my wrist and crushing it the way he had last night at the game. “Call the cops? I am the cops, sweetheart.”

“Daddy?”

We both ripped around in time to see Paige’s bottom lip protrude, tears flooding her eyes as the pancake she’d just made slipped off the plate she was holding and flopped onto the floor.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I assured her. “Just go up to your bedroom and—”

“Daddy, let go of Mama,” she said through her tears, and then she had her hands wrapped around my arm, trying to pull me away from Randy.

“It’s okay, honey,” I told her again before I narrowed my eyes at Randy and whispered. “Let. Me. Go.”