It was the first Monday of my summer vacation and I was up early watching TV, enjoying the freedom. Dad was in the kitchen, unknowingly tangled in the phone cord, gripping the phone so tight his knuckles blanched. His eyes were bloodshot from a long night of tears and disrupted sleep. Kenny woke up, he was only 4 then and had walked into the kitchen, his pajamas soaked in urine. Dad didn't even acknowledge his mishap, and grabbed him by the wrist, screaming at me to get my coat.
It was 98 degrees.
When I finally found my shoes, dad was already in the car. I had to run out in my bare feet, scared he would take off without me. I ended up losing a sneaker in the process. Cassie wasn't even awake. Kenny was thrown in the back and left to fend for himself without a seatbelt. As dad weaved in and out of traffic, he repeatedly slammed a fist on the steering wheel, nearing a scream, but never quite got there. At an age where death did not seem to be an option, it was rather exciting for me. At a sudden stop, the seatbelt caught me from slamming my body against the dashboard. Kenny, now sitting on the floorboard behind the drivers seat, cried. He was wet and wanted to go home. "We're going to go visit Mommy! We're going to see what Mommy is up to!" Dad talked through gritted teeth, with a voice that was neither soothing nor calm. I was no longer thrilled and began to cry along with my little brother. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Marty slammed his fist against the wheel along with each word he screamed.
Pulling into the parking lot of some shabby motel, we parked in view of the line of doors. Kenny and I whimpered as dad watched. Minutes later, I looked out the window to see my mother walking out one of the rooms with another man, a stranger. "Stay in here and be quiet." Dad left the car. I watched as he walked quickly over to the confused man. Mom got between them before dad could reach for the stranger's throat, but with a sudden burst of anger, he backhanded her. She hit the ground, knocking the back of her head on the concrete ground. Without hesitation, the stranger punched dad in the face. His head retracted like a punching bag and the man punched him again, knocking him out onto the pavement.
Dad was able to break out of his unconscious state with the help of police officers minutes after they arrived on scene. An officer attempted to entertain me with his severed thumb magic trick while my dad was placed in the back of a police car. Mom was taken to the hospital for stiches. The stranger disappeared along with her in the back of the ambulance.
Kenny continued to sulk as the officer searched his pockets, struggling to find something to keep our attention. "You kids ever seen a Buffalo nickel?" I was 7 years old and the illusion of my superhero father was shattered and replaced with the image of a weak and pathetic excuse for a man. It was the first time I learned to truly despise him.
