Page 26 of Justice for Radar

Like I had told Radar days before, my parents weren’t physically abusive, at least not often or not as often as Rodney had become, but they were abusive nonetheless. Expecting perfect grades, perfect obedience, and coming unglued on me for some of the simplest transgressions including a put-off chore I had intended to do the next day.

Everything was on their time and my time was not my own… and so it wasn’t unusual to be woken late at night at ten, eleven, or even the wee hours of the morning being screamed at and verbally attacked for not getting something done or not doing something to my mother’s satisfaction.

She would scream at me, berate me, and stand over me with her arms crossed while I cried, and did what she wanted to whatever standard she’d chosen and always with the parting shot as she sent me back to my room,“well if you did it right the first time you wouldn’t have to do it like this.”

No, my parents hadn’t whooped my ass on the regular, but they’d sure done a bang-up job of murdering my soul until there wasn’t a day that went by even now where I didn’t think I wasn’t some kind of piece of shit.

I wept, and scrubbed, and cleaned, and grew frustrated that I didn’t feel any better. Only worse.

God, I was so fucked up but I did my level best to hide it so no one would know… maybe I wasn’t doing as good a job as I thought? I mean, that was a thought and right on the heels of that I had to wonder…is that why Billy had left me behind?

I just didn’t understand… I just didn’t understand what was wrong with me and why I was just so universally hated and disliked when I didn’t do anything wrong.

9

Radar…

I sighed on the other side of my bedroom door, and I can’t tell you how much I wanted to go back in there, crawl into bed, and hug myself to Justice’s back and console her. She looked wrecked, standing in my hallway clutching her computer and tablet thing to her narrow body like it was a lifeline or some kind of shield. Her whole body racked with shivers that had nothing to do with how high or low the AC was cranked. Her eyes were wide, showing too much white and her lips pressed thin, and she looked like she was about to fly apart any second but she held it together.

I’d gotten her settled as soon as possible, grabbed the rest of her shit, and put it in there with her and now it was time to deal with my wayward fucking eldest daughter who wasn’t even supposed to be home – it was only mid-term but not any sort of break.

I went back to her room and shut the door behind me and turned, crossing my arms over my chest and fixing her with a flat look.

“Just what in the Christ was that?” I demanded.

“What? Can’t I come home for the weekend?” she demanded, standing up from the edge of her bed.

“Sit your ass down,” I said imperiously through gritted teeth. She looked like she swallowed her own tongue as she complied.

She had the bed half stripped already, and I sighed, putting my arms to my sides.

“What happened?” I demanded. “Why are you really here?”

She looked scared, like she was trying to decide…

“Out with it, Mariposa,” I demanded, and I tried not to snarl. It wasn’t her fault that Justice was sensitive, just like it wasn’t Justice’s fault she was as sensitive as she was. There were a whole lot of traumas to be unpacked there but right now I was here, my kid in front of me looking scared and I needed to know if she was scared of me.

“Campus police thought it would be a good idea if I came home just for the weekend because there’s this guy that’s been bothering me,” she muttered finally. I raised my eyebrows at her.

“Come again?” I asked.

“Dad, I can handle it,” she said, and I ran my tongue across my bottom lip.

“Baby girl, this is one of those things you handle by telling me and the boys – period. End of.”

I dropped onto the bed beside her and asked her, “What’s he doin’?”

“Nuh-uh,” she said. “First,who was that?” she demanded, and I looked down my nose at her for a second and conceded.

“Justice was in town with a guy and when they checked out of the hotel across from your sister’s work, he said he’d be around with the truck to pick her up and left her here.”

“Oh, that’s fucked up!” Mariposa said, rubbing the tip of her nose with the back of her hand.

“No shit. Your sister had gotten to know her over the week or two she was here with the dude and when she came into the diner with all of her shit, crying, Lucia asked questions then came and got me.”

Mariposa nodded and said, “I’m sorry.”

“You ain’t gotta tell me that,” I said and scoffed. “You gotta tell her in the morning.”

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