I ducked down and hoped he wouldn’t seeme.
“Please open the door,” I whispered and continued toknock.
The door opened, and the old man looked down at me with a scowl on hisface.
“Ryan!” My dad yelled again, and I could hear him stomping down the steps of ourporch.
I slowly stood up. I stood before our neighbor, barefoot, pants held up in one hand, and shirtless. I looked down and held my hand over the bleeding cut that my dad made with the wetrag.
“Young man, what is wrong with you? Don’t bang on my door like that,” the old mansaid.
What was wrong with me? Couldn’t he see? Didn’t he hear? I guess I looked like an idiot kid standing there half naked andcrying.
“Hi, Ed. Sorry about this one. He’s been a handful today,” Dad said as he closed in onme.
The old man laughed and shook his head atme.
“Ryan, what did you do to make your father soangry?”
My dad’s steel grip wrapped around my arm and when he squeezed, I stopped trying to hold my pants up at the waist and focused on pulling his fingers off my arm. His free hand grabbed my hair, and he forced me to look at ourneighbor.
“He asked you a question, Ryan. Since you inconvenienced him, you better answer hisquestion.”
“I didn’t rake the leaves.” The words tumbled out of my mouth quickly. When my dad’s grip shook my head again, I added, “Chad—my brother, we played in the leaves. We had a play fight withleaves.”
The old man laughed and shook his headagain.
“I heard you and your brother laughing and making all sorts of noise. You had your fun, now you have to accept your punishment for being a bad boy and not doing as your father had asked. When I was a boy, if I had misbehaved like you, I wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a week. It would have hurt to even go to the bathroom,” helaughed.
My dad shook my arm hard again, jostling me forward like a ragdoll.
“He won’t be sitting down for a long time. I’ll make sure he feels it when he tries to take a shit too,” Dadpromised.
“No,” Iwhined.
“Apologize, and let’sgo.”
“I’m sorry I banged on your door,” I said as the fear of what was coming ran down my spine. What had he meant by that? It soundedbad.
When we got back inside, I was taken straight to his den where the horror and pain continued. It went on and on until he was tired. I cried out for someone to help me. Where was Chad? He usually helpedme.
Dad left me in the den, and when he was gone, I curled up, unsure of what to do. All I knew was that this was my fault for being bad. I would never play in leavesagain.
Eventually, I got up and trudged toward my room, past the laughter from my mom as she sat in the kitchen with wine. Chad was still curled up on the ground leaning on the couch, and I stopped to look at him. He looked frozen on the spot. I knelt beside him and tried to shake him. I sat beside him for a while as I thought about theden.
“Chad,” I whispered. I shook him until he blinked and looked up at me. “Are you okay?” Iasked.
He shook his head slowly, and I looked around. There was no sign of Mom orDad.
“Come on, they’re gone.” I tugged on his arm until he gotup.
We slowly and quietly made it down the hall, and he turned to go into his room. I didn’t want to be alone and followed him until the door he had flung backward hit me in thearm.
“Go to your room,” he mumbled tome.
“Chad, don’t make me leave. I’mscared.”
He flopped on his bed and acted as if I hadn’t said anything. I went over and sat on his bed, but he kicked me away and I landed on the floor. Why was he acting like this? Was he hurt? I looked closely at him; his pants were part way up too from the spanking, and the marks were all over his back. I thought he was hurt. I had seen kids get hurt at recess and they were given an ice pack. I bet that wouldhelp.
