Fight


“I own and I control and I’ve the papers to prove it!” I am in the kitchen beside mom. Dad has his back to us, arms outstretched. He is wagging his ass back and forth, mocking us.
Mom grabs a plate and throws it, just missing his left ear. The plate smashes against the cabinet. He whirls around. “You stupid fucking bitch! You could’ve hit me.”
This time a glass smashes at his bare feet. Glass goes all over the floor. He does a quick hop-skip and lands on a jagged shard. “Ouch! God damn it!” he raises his right foot up and turns it sideways. Blood trickles down.
The phone rings. We all freeze not knowing what to do.
“J.R. go get your dad his shoes out of the living room. Then get the broom out of the closet for me.” Mom said.
I go to the living room. She gets the phone, which hangs in the kitchen. I hand dad his shoes, he is red faced and angry. I do not look him in the eye.
“Hello?” She clears choked back tears from her throat. She clears her throat again. “Oh, nothing, just watching T.V.” she turns and surveys the room. Dad hops on one shoe to the sink. He tears off a few paper towels and dabs at his foot. He snaps his finger at her.
“Who is it?” He said. Furrowing his brow and screwing up his face to show his disgust at mom’s calm voice and at the person on the other end of the phone.
I am thankful for whoever it is as I bring the broom in and push it against my mom trying to get her attention. I need so many things right now, a hug, a self-assuring word, an understanding look, anything. Nothing comes.
“Ruth!” she mouths the word without making a sound. Dad rolls his eyes and hops down the hall.
“Okay, well thank you and we’ll see you tonight. Good bye.”
She hangs up and exhales for a long time. “Damn that woman will talk your ear off if you let her. Thanks for the broom. Go see if daddy needs any help in the bathroom.” I walk away as she sweeps the glass into a pile.
I pick up a couple pieces of glass before she can say anything. It slices my hand. There is too much blood. I do not remember what happened after that, but I still have a two-inch scar on my left palm, from the cut and subsequent stitches.