Straight out of the Parent’s Official Handbook, right under the heading: What to say when you don’t have a real answer for your kid.
“And maybe,” she added, “when you’re in charge of your own household, you’ll realize your dad did the things he did to protect us. He loves us, and our safety is the most important thing to him. Don’t hate him for that.”
I should have known. The good and evil speech always circled around to love and hate. “Have you ever seen one of his monsters?” I asked.
A pause. A nervous laugh. “I have refused to answer that question the other thousand times you asked, so what makes you think I’ll answer it today?”
“Consider it a late birthday present, since you won’t give me what I really want.” That was a low blow, and I knew it. But again, I refused to apologize.
She flinched. “I don’t like to discuss these things with you girls because I don’t want to scare you further.”
“We aren’t scared now,” I lashed out. “You are!” Calm down. Deep breath in...out... I had to do this rationally. If I freaked, she’d send me to my room and that would be that. “Over the years, you should have seen at least one monster. I mean, you spend the most time with Dad. You’re with him at night, when he patrols the house with a gun.”
The only time I’d dared venture into the hall after midnight, hoping to get a glass of water since I’d forgotten to bring one to my room, that’s what I’d seen. My dad clutching a pistol, marching this way and that, stopping to peer out each and every window.
I’d been thirteen at the time, and I’d almost died of a heart attack. Or maybe embarrassment, since I’d come pretty close to peeing myself.
“Fine. You want to know, I’ll tell you. No, I haven’t seen them,” she said, not really shocking me. “But I have seen the destruction they cause. And before you ask me how I know they were the ones to cause the destruction, let me add that I’ve seen things that can’t be explained any other way.”
“Like what?” I peeked over my shoulder. Em had moved to the swing set and was now rocking back and forth, but she hadn’t dropped me from the crosshairs of her hawk eyes.
“That, I still won’t tell you,” Mom said. “There are some things you’re better off not knowing, no matter what you say. You’re just not ready. Babies can handle milk, but they can’t handle meat.”
I wasn’t a baby, blah, blah, blah, whatever. Worry had contorted Emma’s features. I forced myself to smile, and she immediately brightened as if this was now a done deal. As if I hadn’t failed her in this regard a million times before.
Like the time she’d wanted to attend the art exhibit at her school, where her papier-maché globe had been on display. Like the time her Girl Scout troop had gone camping. Like the hundred times her friend Jenny had called and asked if she could stay the night. Finally, Jenny had stopped calling.
Pressure building...can’t fail this time...
I faced my mother. She still had her back to me and hadn’t abandoned the stove. In fact, she was forking the noodles one at a time, testing their flexibility as if the chore was the most important thing ever. We’d done this same dance before. She was an avoider, and she’d just hit her stride.
“Forget the monsters and what you have and haven’t seen. Today’s my birthday, and all I want is for us to go to my sister’s ballet recital like a normal family. That’s it. That’s all. I’m not asking for the world. But if you don’t have the guts, fine. If Dad doesn’t, whatever. I’ll call one of my friends from school and we’ll go without you.” The drive into the city was at least half an hour, so there was no way we could walk. “And you know what? If you make me go that route, you’ll break Em’s heart and I will never forgive you.”
She sucked in a breath, stiffened. I’d probably just shocked the crap out of her. I was the calm one in the family. I hardly ever lashed out, rarely went mental. For the most part, I accepted and I rolled.