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ONE
Helen
I was five years old when I realized I was surrounded by monsters.
It had been late, but summer late, when the sky wasn't dark yet even though it was after bedtime.
Some noise woke me up, eyes blinking at the fluffy white clouds in the bright blue sky that my mom had painted there for me, illuminated in an otherwise dark bedroom by a pretty princess nightlight she left up for me even though Daddy told her I needed to get over my fear of the dark.
I lay there for a long moment, heart beating a bit frantically, wondering if it was safe to swing my legs over the bed, if the monster spray Mommy spritzed under there before I went to sleep was still working.
But then I heard it again, what woke me up.
Daddy yelling.
Daddy yelled a lot.
Sometimes, it was hard to remember what his inside voice sounded like.
And I didn't like when he yelled; it made my insides feel funny, even if he wasn't yelling at me.
Mommy said to stay away from Daddy when he was grumpy.
So I was just pulling my blankets up to my chin, figuring I could pretend to be asleep if he came in to yell at me about my tea set that I was pretty sure I left in the kitchen after I had a tea party with Helga, our housekeeper. She'd even made Earl Grey madeleines for us, my favorite. She told me that when I was big enough, she would show me how to make them for myself. She told me I could make them for my husband and babies someday.
I told her that I didn't want a husband and babies. I was going to be a mermaid princess as soon as my tail came in.
Daddy didn't like when my toys were left around.
I really didn't want to be yelled at again.
I always cried then he always yelled at me for crying which always made me cry harder.
I wasn't going to get up to see what he was yelling about.
But then I heard something else.
I heard Mommy crying.
She cried sometimes, but always pretended she didn't, told me the wind got in her eyes even when it wasn't windy out, or that a dandelion seed got stuck in her lashes, making them water because she was allergic to dandelions.
But sometimes there weren't even any dandelions around, but the tears would pool in her eyes and pour out down her cheeks.
But this was different.
This was loud crying.
Like when I lost my balance and hit my head on the edge of the table in the hall, cutting my forehead open.
I forgot all about monsters as I threw off the blankets, swung my legs over the bed and into my slippers, the edge of my favorite white nightgown with little red roses on it skimming the tops of my feet as I rushed across my bedroom, worried that maybe Mommy had hit her head on the table too, that maybe she had gotten blood on it too, making Daddy yell at her like he had yelled at me about it.
I could tell him that I would clean it up like Mommy had, so he would stop yelling.
I knew where Helga kept the spray and rags.
My slippers made a scratchy sound across the tile floor as I rushed toward the back of the house where the sound was coming from, finding two of Daddy's friends there because Daddy's friends were always around. Dressed in suits like they were going to church, but every day of the week like Daddy; I always thought it was because they must have all been very important people.
They were standing outside in the hallway by Daddy's office where the yelling and crying were coming from.
I was about to move forward, even though walking past them as they flanked the doorway made my belly wobble when suddenly, the noises got closer.
Because Daddy was walking out into the hallway.
Dragging Mommy by her hair.
She must have fallen down.
Her nose was all red like it was bleeding, and there were big bruises on her cheek.
She was in the middle of trying to say something to Daddy, her words all funny because of the crying, "Fine. Fine. I won't go," she sobbed, her eyes suddenly finding me as Daddy dragged her past me toward the front of the house. "Baby, go back to bed. Go to bed."
"You're crying. Did you get hurt?" I'd asked, hearing my voice shaking as I ran to try to keep up with them.
"I'm fine. Mommy's fine. Go back to bed."
"But..."
"Go back to fucking bed, Helen," my Daddy had snapped. Roared, really. So loud that I felt the sound move through my whole body.
I felt it then.
The warm trickle down my legs that said I hadn't been able to hold it.
He would yell at me about that too.
