Day Double Uno
“Daddy?” I squeak.
He turns towards Tyler. “You did what?”
Tyler looks at me. He’s scared shitless, and rightfully so. “It was supposed to be a secret,” he hisses to me.
A secret?” my Dad roars. “What the hell were you thinking? You’re still in high school,” his arm flails out and hits Tyler square in the jaw.
Tyler grabs hold of his face and stares at my Dad in shock. “What the fuck?” he shouts. He stands there for a second and then charges my dad. I watch in shock, completely unable to move as Tyler knocks my dad onto the bed. He had the element of surprise just then but my dad doesn’t just stand idle. He hits back. And now the two of them are rolling around on the floor wrestling.
I am finally able to move and I run out of the room to go find my mom. I scream her name all the way down to the kitchen where she’s sitting calmly sipping her coffee. You can clearly hear the ruckus from above. “Mom, Dad and Tyler are fighting. Please come help break it up,” I beg her. I grab hold of her robed arm and try to pull her out of her chair but she just shakes her head sadly.
“Melissa, if you and your boyfriend weren’t so stupid then this never would have happened.” Mom seems tired. She’s got dark bags under her eyes which look really puffy. “Really, how did you think that you’d be able to get away with this one?” she takes a sip of her coffee.
“Mom, they’re practically killing each other!” I shriek.
She sighs and pushes herself up from the table. She walks up the stairs slowly. I’m tempted to push her to make her move faster. She finally reaches the top and leads the way down the hallway. I peek over her shoulder and see that Dad has Tyler pressed up against the wall by his throat.
I rush ahead of Mom. “Dad, let go! Please let go!” I grab onto his arm and try pulling but I’m not nearly as strong as he is.
“Thomas!” my mom barks.
Dad turns his head so that he can see Mom but he doesn’t let go of Tyler. “They were fucking, Judy,” he says, his voice low but loud all at once. “This little fucker thinks that he can just use my daughter whenever the hell he wants. This fucker,” Dad releases Tyler’s neck with one hand and grabs hold of his hair, “thinks that my daughter is a slut that he can have whenever he wants without even having the courtesy of being discreet.” Then he lets go of Tyler completely. Tyler crumples to the ground, coughing and clutching his own throat trying to get a decent breath.
I rush to his side and kneel on the ground next to him not knowing what to do to actually help but knowing that I should do something. I try to touch him but he wrenches away from me. Mom’s trying to calm down dad but he’s having none of it. He’s practically foaming at the mouth he’s so angry. He turns back to us and he’s screaming so loud that spittle literally hits me in the face. I try to shield Tyler with my body but he throws me off and suddenly charges my dad.
Suddenly they’re at it again. Tyler’s pummeling my dad’s face and while Tyler has speed on his side, my dad has the weight advantage. With seemingly little effort my dad flings Tyler across the room like a rag doll. He flies into the wall, crashing against my bookshelves and sending two snow globes shattering to the ground. There’s glass and water all across the floor.
Mom has grabbed my dad, “Thomas, calm yourself,” she orders but dad isn’t paying any attention.
“You think you can beat me boy?” he shouts grabbing Tyler by the hair and yanking him off the ground. “You think you can just waltz in her, violate my daughter and then pick a fight with me?” He punches Tyler hard in the face. His nose starts bleeding he slumps to the ground in the middle of all the glass. He’s unconscious.
“Thomas, what did you do?”
“Are you kidding? Call the cops. I’ll scream self defense. He comes into my house in the middle of the night and expects to just get away with it? That’s bull shit.” Dad spits near Tyler then walks out of the room to call the police.
February 7th, 90 total days till graduation, 73 days left of school
“Tyler, I’m sorry!” I protest loudly.
“Shut it Melissa,” he snaps and continues to walk
I can understand why he’s so upset. Dad did such a number on him that instead of ending up at the police station he was taken to the hospital. Tyler’s left arm was broken and he required 32 stitches across his face, hands and feet from the broken glass. Everyone at school saw his arm and wanted to know what happened and stupid me, when a girl asked me I told her the truth. The news spread around school faster than the last outbreak of herpes. So now Tyler hates me even more than he would have just for what my dad did to him.
“But Tyler!” I grab his right arm and while I see him wince he simply drags me along. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why the alarm didn’t work but it was really stupid for you to park in the driveway.”
He whips around and slaps me hard right in the middle of the hallway. “What so now it’s my fault?” he shouts.
“No, no,” my voice is quivering and I reach for his face. I stroke his cheek. “I didn’t mean that.
Suddenly someone yanks my hand away from his face. “Get away from her,” snaps a teacher I don’t recognize. He stands between us and glares at Tyler with death in his eyes.
“I was just-“
“Just slapping a woman. Yeah, I saw. Get your ass to the principal’s office.”
Tyler stares at him in disbelief for a second.
“Now! Do you need me to escort you?”
Tyler glares daggers at me and then starts walking down the hall.
The teacher turns back to me. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” we were just talking. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
His face completely sinks. “I think you might need to visit the counseling center.”
“What? But I didn’t do anything wrong?”
“And you don’t think he did either,” he says flatly.
“Look, can you just stay out of my business?” I shoot back. “I’m fine. He got a little out of control that’s all.”
The teacher looks at me and his eyes are saying something that I refuse to recognize. It is not pity because there is no reason for him to think of me as the victim.
Then the one minute bell rings. “Excuse me,” I push by him. “I need to get to class.” I walk quickly to psychology and slide into my Monday seat just as the late bell rings.
Alex is already starting on her Stanley Milgram rant but I’ve heard enough over the last month and I’m really pissed about what happens so I decide to shut her up early by telling her to do just that. “Will you shut up already? No one but you gives a shit about that experiment. Besides,” I say sitting back in my chair, “we need to actually get started on our experiment.”
“Fuck you princess. Just because you aren’t able to--”
“Well,” Bethany cuts in suddenly, “I was able to borrow a couple of blood pressure measuring thingys-“
“Sphygmomanometer,” Christoper says.
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I borrowed two of them but I need to have them back by the end of next week. So we really need to get this experiment started.”
“Well, Mrs. Lavene said that if we need to use the class just to write it in our letter and she’ll arrange time. So how about we use this class as our start?” Justin suggests.
We’ve started to write our bi-weekly letter when Mrs. Lavene calls my name. I look up and she motions towards a hall monitor standing beside her with a green slip in her hands. I’m being called to the counseling center.
I stand up glaring at the little sheet of paper as if I can make it burst into flames. And maybe, if I can do that then I don’t have to go to the fucking counselor’s office. The hall monitor decides to escort me down there and attempts to make conversation the whole way there. I don’t want to have this conversation or the conversation that’s coming. There’s nothing wrong with my relationship.
I show up to the office and hand the secretary my slip. She looks at me sadly over her cat eye glasses and tells me to sit down and wait for Mrs. Boswell to call me in. She does so less than five minutes later.
“Melissa, hello! Come into my office. How are you today?”
“Fine,” I say curtly.
“Well then let me just cut to the chase. Mr. Peters called me just a moment ago and asked me to talk to you.”
“I don’t need talking to,” I snap.
“He’s just concerned, Melissa.”
“Well there’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“Melissa, healthy relationships do not involve violence.”
“He doesn’t mean to get violent,” I snap. This is my man she’s talking about and I love him. I will defend him to the death.
“But he did! And based on what your other teachers have told me you’ve had multiple visible bruises and black eyes over the past few months.
“Cheerleading is a tough sport.”
“Melissa, no one else in cheerleading has so many injuries. How can you explain that?”
“I’m a clutz.”
“Melissa, denying what’s happening isn’t going to make it stop.”
“There’s nothing TO stop.” I stand up and grab my purse and backpack. “Are we done here? I’d rather get back to class then sit here talking about absolutely nothing.”
Mrs. Boswell jumps to her feet and moves to block the door. “Melissa, please be rational. We’re here to help you.”
“You don’t get it. I don’t NEED your help. I’m fine on my own.”
She shakes her head sadly. I’m seriously ready to spit I’m so angry with all of these people taking pity on me. “Melissa, when you are ready to talk, please come find me.” She reaches over onto her desk and hands me her card. I throw it into my purse without looking at it.
“Fine, can I go now?”
She steps out of the way and I rush out of the counseling center. I decide to skip the rest of class and cheer practice. I can’t deal with anymore shit today so instead I head out the door and walk home.
The wind is whipping and snow gets caught in my eyelashes but I’m not about to turn around. I shift my backpack higher onto my shoulders, bow my head against the wind and start the long trek home.
20,707 words