But everything I expected him to do... never happened.
It never happened because in my wildest dreams, I never could have predicted what would occur.
“Got laid off. Need the money.” That was all he said as he bent beneath the tree and unwrapped the gifts there, then he lifted them in his arms and stalked out of the house.
Leaving wrapping paper in tatters.
Leaving red and green bows scattered around.
Leaving a little girl in shambles who knew not to cry.
Crying led to him beating my mama.
In his words, his daughter wasn’t going to be a whiny little bitch.
And I made that mistake once.
I wouldn’t do it again.
Not if it meant seeing my mama covered in bruises, wincing when she moved the wrong way.
And there I sat on my behind on the floor in front of the television, trying not to let the tears fall.
I felt the all too familiar scent of nothing but goodness wrap around me a second before my mom curled her body around mine, and in my blonde hair, she whispered, “It’s okay, sun beam. Let it out.”
I shook my head, then I whispered, “I can’t.”
I felt her arms tense around me as she asked, “Why not?”
Even though I was only eight years old, I knew the difference in my tone when I said, “Because he will know.”
Her arms tightened around me as her voice shook, “I don’t care, sun beam. Let it out.”
I shook my head again, “No, Mama. I remember what happened last time I cried. You had bruises. I’m not letting that happen again.”
“Lila,” she started.
I shook my head. “No, Mama. No. You’re the only one in my life who loves me. I’m not going to cause you pain.”
And there in front of Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer that was playing on Channel Three, I felt her arms tighten around me, and I didn’t know what she was thinking.
Not until a few moments later, when she said, “Right. Enough is enough.”
Thirty minutes later, we had my belongings in a black trash bag, as well as hers.
We were loaded up in our old four-door Ford that had seen some much better days, and off we went.
The first night I slept in a women’s shelter, I did it pressed close to my mama’s side.
On the second, third, fourth, and fifth nights, I repeated the process.
And on day sixty-four, we walked into a small house on the outskirts of town.
The first safe haven I’ve ever known that wasn’t in my mama’s arms.
There was no yelling.
There were no holes in the walls from fists.
