Burnt Edges

Chapter 1 - Foundation

Whenever Laurel worried she pinched the inside of her upper arm because the pain made the worries go away. On this particular morning she worried about Father’s mood. She pinched herself then reached for a banana. She tried to conceal the bruises by twisting her arm but there were too many to hide.

Laurel sat at the kitchen table with her two brothers who were eating oatmeal. Mother handed Father a cup of coffee. He took a sip. Laurel watched him closely to see if she could tell how the day would go from a raised eyebrow, a twitch in his forehead, or a downward curve on his lips. He set his cup down and announced that he was going to build a tree house.

“Bob, where are you going to put a tree house? We only have the one tree in the backyardand the branches are too high,” Mother said.

“The kids can use a rope to climb up to it, or I can add pieces of wood up the side of the tree. They’re young. They can climb.”

“I’m not talking about the kids. How in God’s name are you going to get it up there?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he said, standing. He grabbed his coffee then he walked out of the kitchen.

A tree house. Perhaps it would be a good day.

Laurel and her brothers had always wanted a tree house, especially after watching The Little Rascals on television. They wanted a clubhouse like Spanky, Alfalfa, Darla, Buckwheat, and the gang had with secret handshakes and code words. A place where they could go where adults weren’t allowed.

“Wow, a tree house! That’s going to be super,” yelled Gerry.

Gerry always said what was on his mind. Laurel envied her younger brother. Even though he got into trouble for his mouth, she wished she could be more like him. Like yesterday he told Father it was too cold when Father opened the front door to let some air in the house. But Father simply turned and closed the door. No slap or even a furrowed brow for such an outburst. It seemed to Laurel that Father was proud that his youngest son was willing to stand up to him.

“I don’t want any of you falling from that tree and breaking a leg,” Mother said. “The last thing we need is another visit to the doctor.”

Laurel thought Mother must have been referring to last week. Laurel had torn her knee open when she fell into Rusty’s scooter. Mother huffed and puffed on the way to the doctor’s office, complaining about Laurel’s carelessness. When the doctor announced that Laurel would need seven stitches, Mother rolled her eyes.

Summer mornings in Southern California began with thick cloud cover that would roll back like a wool blanket as the sun marched across the sky to reveal warm blue skies. Laurel and her brothers went out to the garage to see how Father was doing with the tree house. Father had created a workshop in the garage, and it was where he spent most of his time. A large pegboard where well-worn tools hung—hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, drills, and a large vice—covered one whole wall. The workbench held a few unfinished projects including a birdhouse and a flower box. When the children entered, they saw that Father had finished the tree house frame and was adding pieces of wood to the sides. He stood near theedifice at the side of the garage where all the discarded wood fromother projects stacked like a bunch of broken bread. He raked his hair back with one hand and he held a smoking cigarette in his right as the white ashes hung at the tip.

A tall, quiet man, Father was like a dormant volcano simmering and bubbling until something or someone triggered an eruption. Mother once said he saw things when he was in the navy stationed in Korea that would drive any man crazy. Laurel imagined bombs going off and men shooting at one another but when she tried to visualize Father holding a gun and killing someone, her mind went blank. She was afraid of him like almost everyone else in her family but she couldn’t imagine him shooting another person. When Father entered the room, everyone would stop what they were doing, never knowing if he was in a good mood or if he was about to punch the wall. Mother, only four feet and two inches tall, seemed to be the only person he’d listen to when he was enraged. In fact, Laurel once heard Father pleading with Mother not to leave him.