Page 19 of Roses for Rosie

“Why the hell not?”

“My dad was an alcoholic too. I grew up watching him bully my mom just like your dad bullied you tonight. She deserved better too, but she never stuck up for herself.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“What happened to them? Your parents, I mean.”

“When I was sixteen and big enough to take him on, I confronted my dad. I literally pulled him off of my mom one night when he had her cornered. I punched him and broke his jaw. Once he was unconscious, I called the cops. He was charged with aggravated assault and tossed in jail.”

“Wow. What about your mom. Is she OK?”

“I wouldn’t know. She took his side. She called me a traitor and kicked me out that night and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it sucked. When you grow up with something like that, it leaves a raw spot on your soul. Seeing your dad grab you tonight like that opened that wound.”

“I can’t even imagine what growing up like that was like for you.”

“Maybe you can,” I say pointedly, looking in the rear-view mirror at her dad.

“Touché.”

We ride in silence for another block before she indicates that I should turn left.

“This is it,” she says, as I pull up in front of a tiny ranch. “I know it isn’t much.”

“But it’s home, right?” I answer.

She gives me a weak smile. “I’ll unlock the door. Can you grab him?”

“I’m on it.”

She leads me through the kitchen and living room, down a short hall and into a bedroom. The bed is unmade and the sheets smell like they haven’t been washed in a month. Clothing is strewn over the room in piles. An empty pizza box sits next to the bed.

I deposit Rosie’s father on the bed and Rosie kneels down to untie his shoes and swing his feet up onto the mattress. She pulls the covers up and rests her hand on his shoulder for a moment, looking down on him with a combination of pity and disgust.

I remember those feelings. Seeing my father drunk terrified me, but it also made me mad. He was supposed to be the adult. Fathers should be in control of themselves. They should be strong and solid. They should make everyone else feel safe and protected.

My dad was the opposite of every ideal I set for him. Instead of strong, he was weak. He was constantly flying off the handle and making everyone around him cower in fear. You never knew when he would strike.

But I loved him anyway. I see that love in Rosie’s hand on his shoulder. He treats her like shit but he’s still her dad and she still loves him. She wants him to get better. She wants to make him better.

She looks up from his bedside and nods her head toward the door. I follow her out and she closes the door gently behind us.

“Sorry you had to see that.”

“No judgement here.”

She nods. “Thanks for helping tonight. I’m sorry he ruined the book signing.”

“Are you kidding? That’s the most exciting small-town book signing I’ve ever done,” I joke.

She smiles weakly. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you.” She extends her hand like she wants me to shake it and walk out the door. The chances that I’m going to leave her here alone with that man are somewhere between zero and hell freezing over.

“I wasn’t kidding about you staying with me tonight,” I say firmly, grabbing her outstretched hand with my left hand instead of the right. I start to walk toward the front door, pulling her with me.

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