the things i’ve caused (two)
One Sunday afternoon, watching football on the couch, his father turned to
him and said “I want you to listen, and whatever happens you need to
remember this. A man who hits a woman is a punk. He’s a fucking punk.” His
father never swore, even when he caught his hand in the car door, so he
knew this wasn’t a casual comment. He didn’t know what to say, so he
pulled himself together a bit, put a little more depth into his voice, and
said “I know”. Years later, he’d been in circumstances with women which
were, to put things kindly, ambiguous, where the use of violence, or at
least the threat of violence, seemed to be a desired result. She would
turn, and she would dig, for a reaction, and he would give her nothing,
held inside, unwilling to push against the few things he took as truths.
In time he found someone with whom this was not an issue, and he took her
as his bride, and she told him the story, the story every woman he’s known
eventually tells him, who he was, when it happened, how she’s not really
afraid anymore. The next year his father died, and after the funeral he
sat on the back porch with his wife, and his sister and her boyfriend, and
he mentioned the thing his father told him, and they all became quiet, and
his sister told him what had happened to her, and how her father found
out, and what he wanted to do, but she said no, no, it’s over. After
everyone went to bed, he sat on the back porch by himself, staring at the
scattered lights of distant farmtowns, and he found the address in the
phone book.
(12:26.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #