Caught in a Crossfire

Chapter 9

I am a bit surprised.

Dad actually kept his promise. The following day after he told me what he was going to do,he catered to Mom and me. Getting what we needed before he went back to work, becoming a coach for future wrestlers at Paraclete.

"How about I get you lovely angels some ice cream?" Dad asks one day, kissing my Mom's cheek again. We were watching old family videos. It was when I was a baby and coming into my new home after the hospital. People from our neighborhood come and say I'm the most beautiful baby they laid eyes on. Mom looks exhausted, her eyes tinged with red as she cradles me against her chest.

"That would be nice," Mom answers him, her voice a tad raspy. But nevertheless, it is beautiful and soft, like a windchime. "Autumn, what do you think?"

I am too entranced of my first homecoming to listen, but when she says my name more sternly, I look over at her. "Ice cream sounds good."

Dad grins like the Dad I see in the video. All smiles and asking to fulfill our wish. "What flavor?"

"Chocolate." We say together.

"On it." He gets off the bed to go out. "I love you girls."

"Love you, too." Mom says, kissing his forehead. Dad waves at us before disappearing out the door to get us ice cream.

I put my attention back towards the video of when I am still a baby. The party is over, and Dad is recording me making noise towards the camera, eyes darting in every direction. I am small, vulnerable to anything, while Mom coos to me a song she made up.

The screen on the TV suddenly turns black, and I look back at Mom in shock. "Mom, why did you—"

"That is a memory of when I used to love your father, Autumn." Mom says, her voice unnaturally cold. Her arms are around her small form. I curl myself into her,pulling her arm away from herself, and around me. I shiver at the feel of her skin. No matter what, she is always cold. Long sleeve,jacket, even the blanket draped around her, makes her icy cold. "It was a time when I couldn't see the evil within him. Your father plucked out all the life in me, and he is doing the same to you."

I want to tell her someone  else has been doing that to me for years, and she knows him, but he rmemories may be fuddled because her and Carlson had only brief conversation. Instead I merely nod, trying to get close, noticing the tones of our skin matching. "Let me tell you a story, dear."

There is a huge difference between us in appearance, but people say I look like her. She has along waterfall of dark curly hair that falls to her back. She is gaunt, but still having some traces of muscle. It had gone away after she had started throwing up and tried not to eat. I can almost seethe the spiral of cigarette burns surrounding her chest. She looks defeated, angry, and sad.

"Your father and I met right around the time I went to college in Maine, getting my teaching degree. He was a wrestler, and was tossing a football back and forthwith a friend, and the ball rolled over to me. Oh, he was so charming, Autumn. He asked me of my name, what my major was, like I have given him my whole life. We didn't date until a few times of staying by the trees, where—cliche as it is—we carved our names into the tree. Best friends, and then, having a heart around it."

The story brightens me, almost making me remember how I met Carlson. I fell right under his spell. Maybe I should tell her about us—complicated or not of our meeting. But then Mom's arm leaves me, only to curl against her knees. Her eyes close, and she shivers coldly.

"We had only been dating around two months,and he had begun to control certain aspects of my life. Made sure I was in class, asked me who I was with. He often degraded me, telling me my outfits made me look slutty. He even got angry when I was hanging out with my friends. He kept sending notes in class whether or not I was doing my homework or not, because he wanted to hang out.He often showed me around his friends, showing how beautiful I was,but giving occasional tight squeezes around my waist every now and again." She sighs, gathers herself, before putting her head back atthe headboard. "I kept up with it, because I felt he was going formy best interest at heart.

"Then the day came when I was going to introduce him to my parents over Winter break. He had some sort of falling out with his parents, and he doesn't keep much contact with them anymore. I wanted him to present himself nicely,but—I'm not sure if you remember your grandparents—he gave the worst impression that I was forbidden to date him. Now, that only aggravated him even more.

"He was never one to be told whathe can't and cannot do. He would do it, no matter what. He told methat they never wanted to me to be happy, that they only wanted me tofulfill their dream of me succeeding. Nothing else. At first, Ididn't believe him, but when I saw that my parents were only speakingto me about their studies. I believed him. But then we hadarguments, your father and I. All we did was become verbal for a yearor so. I remember so vividly the first time he struck me. Wewere at a frat party, beer was available and we were outside,dancing. I was talking to a colleague of mine, discussing things fora project we had to do. And your father, Malcolm, oh, he came in atthe worst time. He was drunk, some of spilled on the front of hisshirt."