Except for recognizing his voice, she could have mistaken him for an entirely different person. It happened so suddenly, she had no idea how to react.
He was usually so considerate of her, her feelings, and every little piece of her. When he was upset and knew she wouldn’t like what he needed to say, he would figure out a way to say it in a way that showed he loved her.
But that day was different.
Attempting to figure out what was upsetting him, she leaned across the kitchen counter toward him.
Even the dog was scared at the volume of his voice and ran out of the room as the anger screamed at her, as if the sun broke through clouds, reflected off a car, and blinded everything – until only fuzzy, semi-shapes remained.
The yells suffocated her and she tried to breathe in, but felt her throat tighten, cutting off any air that should have been available to her.
Eleven-years-old.
The walls were vivid, unmistakable: lightly stained wood panels that had been popular then.
He stood at least two feet taller than her, his voice enveloping the room as her ears started to ring.
She forgot to run the dishwasher. Again. Took the remote from her sister. Again. Mouthed off to her mom. Again.
And he was not happy about any of it. His yelling drowned out the actual words he was saying until she couldn’t even hear him anymore, and she waited – for what she knew would come.
She felt his hands grab her by her shoulders, tighten his grip and lift her as he pushed her into the wall. Her teeth bit into the front of her lip as her head hit hard behind her, his face so close that his features started to blur. She could taste the salty blood in her mouth as she looked into his irate eyes.
Her vision started to clear and the white kitchen walls came into focus. The dog was back, nudging her arm and licking her hand. In the quiet, her husband sat next to her on the floor, mouthing something she couldn’t quite understand.
His voice gradually became audible again. “I’m sorry.”
Attempting a breath, she found a bit of air.
She squeezed her eyes tight until everything went black, and then opened them again to see him looking at her with sincere concern – his eyebrows up, but tight, questioning.
“I know,” she said, as she reached out for him, leaned in and focused on the beat of his heart in her ear.
*Fiction