The pain from his name-calling had settled into my bones. Although terrified, I knew I had to talk back to him, no matter the cost. “Am I really that horrible of a person just because I love rock music?” I asked, my voice dripping with anger.
Dad dipped his chin, answering me with the same ire. “Yes.”
Whether I could continue to swallow the rage bubbling inside my throat was anyone’s guess. But I took a deep breath and tried. I knew the consequences of challenging my father. The Beatles concert was proof of that.
I also knew something equally dire. I had to leave. That night. I couldn’t endure his cruelty another second.
On second thought, I could never leave. My mother’s bleating cries were killing me. She was already dead from the constant worry of whether her only son would make it home alive. If I left, what would happen to her? She couldn’t afford to lose another child.
Stand up to him!I heard my brother’s voice echoing at high volume.Do it for me, SuSu. Do it!
In that moment I didn’t care what Dad had called me. I only cared about what he had done to Ron. “I hate you!” I blurted out, softly at first; then the fury I’d been suppressing for three years exploded like three million sticks of dynamite.
“I ... hate ... you!” I yelled, turning into someone I didn’t recognize. Heat rushed to my head. My body shook with rage. “How can you treat your own daughter like this? I’m sorry I’m such a big disappointment.” My voice cracked as tears flooded my eyes. “You’ve destroyed beautiful music by talented people who God himself created! Why—”
Dad cut me off mid-sentence. “I’m trying to save you from burning in hell with all the beautiful beatniks you think so highly of.” His eyes were cold. Sharp. Murderous. But he did not yell. “You’ll thank me on Judgment Day.”
“I’malreadyin hell!” I screamed. “And so is Ron! Why did you make him go to Vietnam? He had his student deferment! He should be going to college with his friends, not killing innocent people!” Tears streamed down my face. “He’s not a soldier, and you know it. He’s a kind, caring person who just wants to make music and bring love to the world. You saw in living color what happened at the Tet Offensive. How can you still believe in this war?”
My father remained silent. In his mind, he owed me no explanation. But I could tell, by his crimson cheeks, he was furious. Beads of sweat sprang on his forehead. His face tightened as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“He’s my only sibling. Imisshim!” I yelled. “He never writes us anymore. Do you know why that is? He doesn’t write”—I thrust my finger toward him, bouncing it with each word—“because he. Hates. You. Too!”
Dad stood there with his lips mashed together. His shallow breaths provided the only sound in the room. I had awoken the hornet’s nest.
He stepped closer, raising his voice. “You’re absolutely right! Not only is your brother not a soldier—he’s not a student, an athlete, or even a man. He is acoward!” he yelled, nose flared, fists clenched. “Going to Vietnamwas the only way to change him.” His yell ricocheted like bullets off my bedroom walls, terrifying me. “Not writing to his family is his choice!”
My first instinct was to cower. Instead, I stood tall. “Maybe so. But here’s my choice. I’m moving to Arkansas. Or Kentucky.”
Dad lowered his chin, peering at me down his nose. Clearly, he didn’t think I was serious.
“And you can’t stop me.”
With arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the doorframe. No longer yelling, he asked, “How will you survive? No money, no car.”
I hadn’t thought that part through. He’d never allow me to take my car. “I’ll figure it out,” I said. “I’m smart.” Between my fury and what I’d just threatened, I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mama. I felt guilty already.
I knew Dad so well. On one hand he figured I’d never leave. On the other, he’d never seen me like this. Until I could formulate a definite plan, I knew I had better calm myself down. He may try and stop me.
Seizing the lull, Mama glared first at Dad, then at me. “ForGod’ssake!” she said through gritted teeth. “College starts soon. Can’t we just make it through the next three weeks?” Her gaze darted between the two of us. “My son has had to fight tostay alivein Vietnam. Is it too much to ask the rest of my family to stop fighting in our own home?”
A sidelong glance between Dad and me confirmed we’d better do as she asked. I’d never seen my mother this way. She rarely made a fuss. And she never,evertook the Lord’s name in vain. Come to think of it, how could she make a fuss? Her every move was controlled by her husband. Whether it be meal planning, folding the laundry, or making the bed just so, my mother had strict guidelines to follow. The poor thing had dominion over nothing in her own home. Right then and there I made a silent vow never to get married.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dad closed his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he regretted his behavior.
He let a few moments pass before darting his gaze between Mama and me. “It’s late,” he said. “We’ll discuss this in the morning.” By then his voice was laced with a surprising calm. And a tinge of kindness.Psycho.“Good night, Suzannah.” Turning toward the door, he stretched out his arm. “Come back to bed, Jean. All will be well.”
From the despair on Mama’s face, I could tell she didn’t want to go. But, like always, she relented. “I’ll be there in a moment, Ronald.”
After he stepped away, she pulled me toward her, pressing a watery cheek against mine. Together our tears formed a weeping wall of torment.
Nestling my face into my mother’s neck, I breathed the scent that had comforted me all my life. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered. “Let’s run away.”
Mama squeezed harder, whispering back, “I love you with all my heart, my sweet girl.” As her breath sailed across my face, I detected an unfamiliar odor. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there. It smelled like liquor.
Seconds away from challenging her, my better sense grabbed ahold. Who could blame her?
“I love you too, Mama. Let’s go. Let’s leave. Right now,” I pleaded. “I can’t take living here anymore.”
