Tender Love

It’s raining, long lines of transparent liquid falling on the cement floor. The raindrops falling on the roof create a din that soothes me, I’m alone with the rain, the thunder and lightening and that’s fine. I’d rather be here looking out my window than outside with my parents. It’s cold so I grab my blanket and resume my watch at the window staring at the rain and hoping it never stops.

“What do you mean by that?” my father shouts angrily

“I’m asking you to tell me the truth!” my mother shouts back.

I block out their argument, they’re always fighting so I’ve perfected the act of shutting them out. She’ll never hear the truth from him; she ought to know that by now. Lightening strikes.

“The neighbours have been telling me things” my mother says emphatically

“Then maybe you should stop listening for once!”

“I’m tired of making excuses for you…” my mother says wearily. I think she has reached her breaking point. The argument will soon be over; whenever she reaches her breaking point there is silence for a long time and then she’s happy again. I wish I was a mermaid, part human and part animal so that I get to choose when I want to be in the world and when I want to be safe under water. If I was a mermaid I would also be beautiful and wanted, I am ugly now and no one wants me.

There is silence now just as I predicted and I wonder what they do when they are quiet. Do they just stare at each other, walk away, think or fall asleep? I know when I’m quiet I think, there’s a lot to think about and when I’m done thinking, I fall asleep. I yawn and my eyelids are starting to close, it’s easy to succumb to the coolness of the rain.

“What did you just call me?”
my mother says surprised. I am surprised too, they never resume their argument after the silence.

“N…nothing” my father stutters and I can hear the fear in his voice.

“So it’s true and you’ve been lying to me the whole time?” my mother says and I can tell that she now believes. “She told me that you call her tender love” she says tearfully “You have been touching my child?!” she says angrily now like a person who is just recovering from the surprise of a slap on the face.

“Baby, I can explain, it’s the work of the devil!” my father says pleadingly. I can’t believe that he is fearful, he’s always so confident at night, calling me tender love and wringing my neck when I refuse to cooperate with him. The very sight of him makes me shudder, everyday I live in the fear of the possibility that one day when he wrings my neck he’ll stop a second too late. I have tried to tell my mother of his nightly visits but she has refused to believe me until now. So I have come to love the rain and this window pane where I can stare out and dream as I imagine the raindrops cleansing me.

“I’m going to kill you!” my mother says with fury

“Please let’s work this out, I’ll go for therapy, anything you want!” he pleads frantically.

I hope she doesn’t kill him because then my baby won’t have a father.

Lightening strikes again.