The Night

Melissa kept on coming over.

She came over at least five times a week and always showed up for my games. She was really nice and a really good Mom. She hugged me, but not too much 'cause sometimes I didn't like being touched. She was even at my birthday party in September.

I turned six September 12th, 1982. We had a baseball themed birthday. I told Dad I wanted a math themed one, because I really like math, especially adding and subtracting, but Dad ignored me. Like usual. But it didn't matter because everyone from Tee ball came, even Coach. We played a mini game in the backyard with Melissa and Dad.

After presents, which were HeMan action figures, new wooden baseball bats, some books and a special math book for third graders. The math book was from Melissa and I did the first few problems before I went to bed that night.

The best part though, was that Melissa and Dad sat me down in the living room to tell me something. I racked my brain trying to figure out what it was, but never guessed what it actually was. "We wanted to tell you that a month from now it won't just be us two living here". Dad started, looking at Melissa. "Because I'm going to be moving in". I let the words sink in. "Okay! So you'll be here all the time?" Melissa nodded. "Cool! You can help me with my math book, chapter 2 gets into multiplying and I don't know how to do that yet". Melissa laughed. "So, you know why I'm moving in?"

I nodded. "You're getting married. Daniel's stepmom moved with them to a new house when Mr. Walsh got married". Melissa looked surprised. "Yes, that's right. How do feel about it?"

"Pretty good. I like you". Melissa and Dad laughed and we all watched a movie that night.

Then Melissa left, and it all went downhill.

I had tried to figure out the multiplication on my own, but I couldn't read that well yet. I gave up and went to bed later than usual. The sound of something hitting the wall and shattering jolted me out of my sleep. I heard heavy footsteps climb the steps to the second floor. My whole body tensed and I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped he wouldn't come in to my room.

I didn't hope hard enough, because he barged into my room. The door slammed into the door stopper, making me jump. Now he knew I was awake. "Get up you little shit". He slurred, walking closer to my bed. He tripped on some of my baseball gear. That only made him angrier. He grabbed my left arm and yanked me out of bed, screaming in my face. "You're worthless! You hear me?!" He shook me a good bit and then waited for a reply.

I was so terrified I could have peed my pants, but something made me say something. "No, I'm not". Dad's eyes filled pure unbridled rage at the words and in fit of rage, threw against the wall. I heard the crack before I felt the hot searing pain travel through my arm. I screamed, hot tears trailing my face.

He grabbed my good arm and shook me again which only jostled my arm. "Look at me!" I hesitantly looked up at him, sniffling and trying to the tears in. "You are nothing, you are the reason Rebecca left and you will never my son". The darkness and hate in his voice made my tears start again. He threw me on the ground like a abandoned toy and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

I didn't have willpower or strength to get up from the floor. So I curled into a ball which my right arm cradled to my chest and managed to fall asleep.

When I woke the next morning I couldn't feel my fingers very well and didn't really respond to my brain. I looked in the mirror and was angry at what saw. My face was all puffy and tear streaked from crying in my sleep. My bicep was a mirage of purple and blue bruises and it was swollen well above what it should be. I was angry because I let him. I let him do this to me because I was terrified of the consequences. At the end I was a scared little boy.

I knew staring at it in the mirror that it was a broken bone, I knew it. But I still went to school. What would Dad say if I even told him? Probably to suck it up. So I did. I put on the clothes easiest to put on with one arm and then picked up my math book from the floor. It was ripped from Dad stepping on it. I knew I should have put it in my dresser. Stupid.

I took my bag downstairs and expected to find Dad passed out on his La-Z-Boy. I was surprised to find him putting a bowl of Cheerios out of me with a glass of milk. My lunch was already made and sitting on the counter. "Good morning, Max". Dad said, putting his own bowl at the head of the table. "Hi". I mumbled, taking a seat at the table.

Since I was left handed, I didn't have a hard time eating. Now, trying to reach for my glass was something I wasn't even going to try. It was a slow endeavor, but I ate all the cereal. Dad was sneaking me glances the whole time which I tried my best to ignore. After a while, he finally asked the question I was waiting for. "How's your arm?" He took my bowl from me and rinsed it out while he waited for me answer. I wanted to tell him it was broken, but I was scared that he would call names and ignore the injury. "It hurts". I said simply, waiting for his reply. "Put some ice on it". He said.

He grabbed his bag and left to the office for his job. Being an accountant, he worked pretty regular hours so I walked to school. It wasn't that far, maybe seven blocks away from the neighborhood, but on this day I was in no shape to be walking in the cold weather with a broken arm. But I did it anyway. Because what else could I do?

At school, my first grade teacher Mrs. Dixon, sensed something was off when I wasn't working in the book I had brought along. She always let me do the advanced work while the rest of the kids worked on adding and subtracting. I was in so much pain and so nauseous I didn't trust myself to do anything more than lay my head on my desk and do nothing. "Honey, how about we go see the nurse". Mrs. Dixon said while the kids were silent reading. I nodded reluctantly and let her lead me to the nurse.

The nurse took one look at me and knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the way I looked. Bags under my eyes, my face red from crying in my sleep. "What seems be the problem?" Mrs. Dixon looked to me for an answer. "My arm hurts". I muttered to the nurse who nodded understandingly. "How about you have a seat and I'll take a look". Mrs. Dixon led me to the cot in the back and sat me down. She helped me take off my jacket. She gasped when she saw the bruises. The nurse sidled up next to her and gasped as well. "Oh, Aaron, why didn't tell me?" I shrugged and then cried out when the nurse touched my arm.

"Yeah, that's broken alright, as well as some bruising. How did this happen?" I wanted to tell them about Dad, but something made me tell another lie. A lie that Dad had drilled into me the first day of kindergarten. "I wanted to climb a tree before school, when I tried to get down I fell on my arm. I didn't know it was broken, honest". I pleaded, hoping the nurse would believe my story. "Okay, honey, we need to call your parents, do you know their number?" I knew my Mom's number, Dad's number and Melissa's number like the back of my hand. Mom was obviously out, Dad was a definite cross off the list which left the only person I trusted.

"Melissa, my stepmom". I said and rattled off the number. It only took five minutes for Melissa to storm into the nurses office, obviously worried sick. "Oh my God, Aaron". She saw my arm and covered her mouth with her hands. She wanted to hug me, but I knew she knew she couldn't.

A short Emergency Room visit later, I had a red cast from my shoulder down to my hand. The doctor called it a Comminuted fracture. It was a clean break so they were able to set it in the office. It hurt, but not as bad as when it first broke. Melissa took me out to get ice cream for being brave. When we got home Dad was sitting on the couch. When the door opened he put his beer down and feigned concern for me. "Aaron, what happened, buddy?" He asked me and I almost believed that he cared for a second. "Um-I was walking to school and I wanted to climb a tree 'cause I still had time and then when I tried to get down I fell". I rambled. He hugged me and I flinched back involuntarily at the gesture. "Now you know to be careful around those bud, especially around this time of year". Melissa seemed worried about me, but sat with Dad on the couch. I wanted to ask her if she'd help with with the multiplication portion of the book, but was scared that she'd ignore me. I asked anyway.

"Um...M-Melissa, can you help me with my math book?" Melissa beamed at me from the couch while Dad scorned. "Sure, Honey, you go get it". I broke into a smile and ran up the stairs to grab it.

We spent the better part of an hour learning two and three digit multiplication as well as some division. Melissa praised me when I was able to crack the bonus problem at the end of the chapter. "You're on your way to being a mathematician when you grow up, little man". She said and tickled my left side. "Dad wants me to play baseball". I said offhandedly when I stopped giggling. "Well, maybe you can do both. I don't know many baseball players who are mathematicians, but perhaps you'll be the first". I smiled at that and helped Melissa make dinner as much as I could with a broken arm.

After dinner Melissa signed my cast. Dad did too after Melissa asked him. "How about you ask your class to sign it tomorrow?" I nodded at the prospect of getting so many signatures. I knew Daniel would be the first to sign it. And he did, the biggest out of all of them.