Burning Rage

Today my daughter and I had a long talk. We were discussing Thanksgiving, which, against my better judgment, I had agreed to host at our house this year.

As we were talking about my father in law, who the children call Gpa, and as I have stated before, is a raging alcoholic, her face took on a troubled expression and I asked her what was wrong.

“Will you make a rule that he can only drink a couple of beers Mom?”
”He is not allowed to drink in our house sweetie you know that”
“That’s good because last time….”

I felt the little prickling of fear raise the hair on the back of my arms and I tried to keep my voice calm.

“Last time what?”
”Nothing”
“Don’t tell me nothing, last time what”
“Well, he does weird things when he gets drunk”

Alarm bells began to ring in the back of my ears and I took a couple of cleansing breaths.

“Weird things like what”
“I, I can’t tell you Mom”
”Yes, you can sweetie, you can tell me anything”
“Well, remember when we spent the night?”

My mind raced back to about two weeks ago when we let all three of the kids spend the night and I nodded stupidly.

“Well, Gpa told “insert oldest boys name here” that he could earn some money, doing yard work but it was cold and I didn’t want to go outside, so I asked him if he had something I could do inside. He started to say something and Sara came in and he got quiet and watched her, waiting until she left and he leaned over to whisper in my ear”

Her voice cracked and tears welled up in her eyes and the bells turned to a low hum and I reached out to tuck her hair back away from her face behind her ear.

“What did he say to you?”
”He said that there was something and I asked him what and, and Mom”

Her words trialed off as she sobbed and I gathered her up into my arms and rocked her back and forth while we sat in the van in the parking lot of a laundry mat. I held her until she was all cried out, my mind scrambling to put it together as I held her.

“He said he wanted me to lift up my shirt and I told him he was crazy, he said that it wasn’t like he’d never seen tits before, mine were just smaller”

I felt the white hot rage begin to burn under my skin and I was grateful she couldn’t see my face as my hands smoothed at her hair.

“Did he touch you, or grab you, or anything at all?”
“No, he started like he might because I told him he was crazy again and I pulled away fast and then he just shrugged and started drinking beer again and I’m sorry Mommy, I”

I cut her off “NO! You didn’t do anything wrong. I wish you had told me sooner, but this is not your fault”

She started to cry some more “ I didn’t want Daddy to fight with Gpa, he’ll be mad at me” and I hugged her close to me again.

“Daddy is not going to be upset with you, don’t ever think that, this was not your fault, Gpa is a grown man and he should know better, I promise you baby, I >PROMISE< you, this will not >EVER< happen again.

The whole way home my mind buzzed and burned and by the time we parked I was shaking so bad I could barely stand.

Chris knew the moment he came out the door to help us carry in the groceries and laundry that something was wrong, I could barely get the words out as I whispered “We’ll talk, in the house, send the kids to their room”

He looked alarmed and I wanted to tell him it wasn’t him, that it wasn’t his fault, but I had no words just yet.

We unloaded everything and he sent the kids up to their room and turned to me and I started to cry as I unloaded the conversation onto him.

I have never seen him so pale, so distraught, so angry. I tried to reach for him, to comfort him and he jerked away form me, rasping out “Don’t touch me. I am going to kill him, I will fucking rip his head off”

It was the last we spoke of it for the night, though he eventually took me into his arms and kissed my cheeks whispering his love for me.

My body still burns with rage.