Blasting again….

My sisters and I didn’t have a great life, nor were we associated with the upper class. When I was 9 years old we moved to a house my parents decided to rent, low and behold we were coming up in the world. meaning, we had electricity, water, and even a TV. Not sure why exactly, but my dad began drinking more and stayed away longer. Then the unexplained happen. My mother sent me to work with him and when he was done work decided to take a detour.

Hours and hours I had sat in that car after we pulled up to a huge white house, not far from my dads work. He said, ” sit here and I’ll be out soon”. That is just what I did, I sat quietly for hours and too scared of my dad to get out of the car. In my head I was screaming to have out of that car. I had to use the bathroom, I wanted to call my mom, and I wanted to go home.  Finally, the front door opened and a women had kissed my dad on the cheek as he started for the car.

The only thing my dad said to me when he had returned was, ” tell your mother and your punishment will be doubled, got it”. I quietly shook my head YES and home we went. I was 9 years old, keeping a secret was hard, but the acknowledgement that the punishment my mom would give if she found out I didn’t tell her would be greater. Yup, I spilled every detail of our (dad and me) time together. The explosion happening outside my bedroom door that night between my mom and dad was horrifying. Listening to the smashing of glass, the screams of unanswered questions, the short lived dead silence when dad would walk out of the house slamming the door (over and over again).


To Be Continued….


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