Author's note: I have had a story in my head for years and have written the first few chapters of it many times. I always end up putting it aside to write small ones like the one you find here. I still lack the confidence to tackle such a challenging tale. No matter, I have a pile of other stories started that need to be finished. One of these days, I'll have to learn to work on one project at a time.
The Family Man
Chapter 1
The door jerked on its hinges, light igniting along the seams at every pound of the asshole's fist. I picked up the baseball bat I had left near the door. I tightened my hands around its neck to stop them from shaking. Jake was going to kill me this time.
"I've called the police, Jake," I shouted.
"Bitch," Jake yelled. The pounding stopped for a moment as he added some slurred indecipherable insult. Then the assault renewed with extra vigor. He was more drunk than usual. My arms started shaking.
"Stop it, Daddy," Maria shouted from the other side of the room. I turned, too late to hide the bat. There were tears running down her cheeks, mirroring my own. She was so confused; ten years was not enough life to understand what was going on.
"Sneak out the back and run to Mrs. Cummings' house," I whispered to her. In a moment the door would give out, and I knew Jake wouldn't hold back. I should have bought a gun. "Go," I said again, waving her toward the kitchen. Her lips were quivering as she slowly stepped back. Oh God, she knew what was going to happen. "Now," I shouted, probably the last word she'd ever hear from her mother. Maria turned and ran into the kitchen, a second later the back door quietly closed.
The crackling sound of the frame giving out caused me to raise the bat higher. The house shook as he stopped pounding and began to throw himself bodily at the door. I took a step back and steadied myself. It was him or me. There was no one else, and I was done running. As long as I hit with the first swing, there was hope. If I missed, well, I just couldn't miss.
The frame splintered near the dead bolt, and I sucked in my last breath. One more hit and Jake would be in the house. The restraining order was useless. The bat jerked in my hands, my body thinking it could time the first strike with Jake's previous pattern of body slams. Instead, I heard the shuffling of feet beyond the door and steadied the bat anew. There was a solid thump against the garage wall that jutted out and framed the right side of the porch. Maybe he was too drunk. Maybe the police would get here in time.
A moment later I heard a car start up and accelerate. I ran to the window pulled the curtain aside and saw Jake's shiny new black Charger speeding down the road. A deep breath, then I lowered the bat. My arms were shaking so much, I began to cry. Not for what could have happened, but for what he was doing to me. The fear was eating me alive.
The soft sound of a distant siren broke into my moment of weakness. Jake must have heard it coming, and maybe fear took a bite out of him as well. I took a couple more solid breaths and replaced the bat against the entryway table. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, then grabbed a Kleenex and cleaned up the smeared mascara in the front hall mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and weak. They needed to be stronger. I needed to be stronger.
"It took you long enough," I said when I opened the door as the officer approached. "He heard your siren and left." I pointed down the road as if that would help the cop.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" The young officer asked. He looked like a tall fifteen-year-old. Military haircut on top of a face that was meant to have its cheeks pinched.
"No," I replied, "look at my damn door. Another second and someone would have been dead." I knew there was too much anger in my voice, but the adrenaline was still flowing. "He's drunk as hell and will hopefully drive off a cliff. Maybe nature will take care of what you can't." The officer stopped coming forward, and I could see the color leave his face. He wasn't used to failure, probably a stellar student and the perfect soldier.
"Ma'am, we can't be everywhere all the time." He was having trouble with where to put his hands. Just a kid with a man's duty. The wrong person to be yelling at.
"No. No, you can't," I sighed. I stood away from the entrance and made room for the officer to enter. At least his presence would allow the fear to fade for a moment. Jake wouldn't come back while the police car was out front. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"
"Officer Richard Sampson, ma'am."
"Thank you for coming, Richard."
"I'll call it in, and maybe we can locate him quickly," Richard said as he examined the door frame.
"He'll just deny it as always," I said, resigned to the fact that I'd have to end it eventually. "A few hours in jail before his lawyer shows up will just make him angrier. A bottle of bravery later and he's right back at it."
"The courts take this very seriously." He pulled on the doorframe where the deadbolt inserts, testing what little was left of its strength. Some of the wood broke off in his hand. "And this is attempted breaking and entering."
"I can't spend any more days in court," I said. "I'm out of time-off at work and haven't received a child support payment in over a year."
Richard ignored my words and pulled out his notepad. I rolled my eyes as I began reciting the information he needed to bring Jake in. The make, model, and license number of the car he bought with Maria's support payments. His last known address and a description. I waited until the officer was done before I asked him the question I ask all of them.
"If he comes into my home, I can kill him, right?"
"I hope it doesn't come to that, ma'am," Richard said, closing his notebook. His face had aged as his confidence had returned. Still a child to my thirty-two-year-old eyes.
"But I'd be within my rights."
"If your life is threatened, you may take lethal action." It was the same answer I had received every time I asked. I was hoping it would evoke more action on their part. I really didn't want to kill Jake, but the thought of his hands around my throat kept the idea alive. Jake had serious control issues. I had serious anti-Jake issues. Those competing points of view would collide horribly one day.
"Where can I buy a gun?" I asked, trying to emphasize the dire situation to him. He didn't bat an eye.
"Dormer's, on Broadway. Tony is a friend of mine and gives lessons to first time owners for free," Richard said looking straight at me. I was silent, surprised that he'd have an answer to my question. "I'd recommend the lessons. Safety is mostly common sense, but there are some extra things to consider when there are children in the house."
"I don't want to buy a gun," I admitted.
"And I can't promise we can get here in time," Richard continued. He was aging before my eyes. "Some guys only respect force, and the law isn't always quick enough."
I stared at him for a moment, his statement running through my mind. Inside, I was shaking. Outside, I had crossed my arms under my chest. In response to my queries, he was telling me to protect myself. I would either end up killing my daughter's father or dying myself.
"Tony," I said.
"A nice guy, he won't take advantage of you," Richard said. Mrs. Cummings was bringing Maria up the front walk. I could see the tears still flowing from my daughter's eyes. She ran past the officer and into my arms. I hugged her close, trying to fill her with a strength I didn't have.
