fast—crystal,
crack, ecstasy. Anything he could get
hold of. That made him mean. To me.
To Chad, who was too little to know
anything except Daddy hurt him.
I was working one day—somebody
had to. It was a crap casino waitress
job, but it paid the bills, if not the drug
tab. Anyway, Damian was supposed
to be watching Chad, but he’d been
on a bender, and was crashed out on
the sofa. Chad was four. He decided
he was hungry and was going to the store.
So he took off walking. Alone. In a bad
part of town. Luckily, the woman
who found him was decent. She took
him to her house. Called the cops.
She pauses, catches her breath.
But I have to know, “What happened?”
By that time, I had come home,
found him missing. After a frantic
search, I called the cops, too.
They brought him home, and when
they tried to talk to Damian, he got
all belligerent—first sign of a doper
on the down. Next thing you know,
he was swinging at one of them.
They hauled him in, cooled him off
for a couple of days, then let him
out, awaiting trial. Somehow, in
his demented mind, it was all my fault.
She stops again, and I know it’s hard
for her to relive it when she says,
He beat me bloody. Broke bones. Teeth.
Little Chad tried to stop him. Damian
pushed him headfirst into the wall.
We were both unconscious when he left.
As the Story Goes
A neighbor heard the ruckus.
Called 911. The paramedics found
Cassie shattered and Chad close to death,
with a subdural hematoma—rampant bleeding
in the skull, which squashes the brain. The two of
them were in the hospital for days. Damian hid
out with his brother in Red Rock. Then his
brother’s wife saw the news reports and
put in a covert call to Secret Witness.
They threw every charge they could
think of at him, including attempted
murder. He got fifteen to twenty-five
years. I was there when they sentenced
him, and the look he give me clearly
said, “When I get out, I’m coming for
you.” Well, he’s out. That’s who I saw.
Older. Grayer. But it was definitely
him. I don’t know why I thought
he’d be in for the max ride. But, no.
Early release. It’s weird. But in
my mind, he was dead. Stupid, huh?
I’m Kind of Speechless
But . . . “You don’t really think
he’d try to hurt you, do you?
I mean, he wouldn’t want to
take a chance on going back
to prison, right?” Jeez, I def
can’t tell Mom, or no way
would she let me come over
to Dad’s anymore, even though
I can’t believe this Damian dude
is a danger to me. Or to Cassie.
I don’t know. I would hope not,
and I don’t want to live all paranoid.
Two more burning questions.
“Does Dad know? And does Chad
remember what happened?”
Could explain why he’s a little
chill. I wouldn’t keep it from your
Dad. And how could Chad forget?
When We Get Back to Dad’s
He is all cleaned up, ready to go
out to dinner, and then dancing.
Cassie doesn’t want to spoil
his good mood, so she asks me
not to say anything. I’ll tell
him when the time is right.
And please let me break
the news to Chad, too, okay?
I give her a hug and she goes
to get ready. I hate secrets.
Especially explosive ones.
Ones that feel ready to blow.
Dad and Cassie leave and Chad
is watching an awful Austin Powers
movie. I sit next to him, restless.
In fact, I’m almost ready to spill
when Bri calls my cell. Promise
you won’t tell, is the first thing
she says. I heard Mikki talking
to Dylan. She’s pregnant.
Dylan
Pregnant
The very concept strikes fear
into the hearts of young people
everywhere. In fact,
it’s
right at the top of my Do Not
Tell Me This list, just above
“You’ve got cancer and are
not
a candidate for chemo.”
Un-freaking-believable!
When Mik called to tell me
what
the two-blue-lines thing
meant, I thought she was
joking. Ginormous mistake—
I
laughed, and that made her
cry. Not sad tears. Pissed tears.
Then I asked her what she
wanted
to do, totally expecting her to
say abortion. She said she wasn’t
sure, and that’s not
crack, ecstasy. Anything he could get
hold of. That made him mean. To me.
To Chad, who was too little to know
anything except Daddy hurt him.
I was working one day—somebody
had to. It was a crap casino waitress
job, but it paid the bills, if not the drug
tab. Anyway, Damian was supposed
to be watching Chad, but he’d been
on a bender, and was crashed out on
the sofa. Chad was four. He decided
he was hungry and was going to the store.
So he took off walking. Alone. In a bad
part of town. Luckily, the woman
who found him was decent. She took
him to her house. Called the cops.
She pauses, catches her breath.
But I have to know, “What happened?”
By that time, I had come home,
found him missing. After a frantic
search, I called the cops, too.
They brought him home, and when
they tried to talk to Damian, he got
all belligerent—first sign of a doper
on the down. Next thing you know,
he was swinging at one of them.
They hauled him in, cooled him off
for a couple of days, then let him
out, awaiting trial. Somehow, in
his demented mind, it was all my fault.
She stops again, and I know it’s hard
for her to relive it when she says,
He beat me bloody. Broke bones. Teeth.
Little Chad tried to stop him. Damian
pushed him headfirst into the wall.
We were both unconscious when he left.
As the Story Goes
A neighbor heard the ruckus.
Called 911. The paramedics found
Cassie shattered and Chad close to death,
with a subdural hematoma—rampant bleeding
in the skull, which squashes the brain. The two of
them were in the hospital for days. Damian hid
out with his brother in Red Rock. Then his
brother’s wife saw the news reports and
put in a covert call to Secret Witness.
They threw every charge they could
think of at him, including attempted
murder. He got fifteen to twenty-five
years. I was there when they sentenced
him, and the look he give me clearly
said, “When I get out, I’m coming for
you.” Well, he’s out. That’s who I saw.
Older. Grayer. But it was definitely
him. I don’t know why I thought
he’d be in for the max ride. But, no.
Early release. It’s weird. But in
my mind, he was dead. Stupid, huh?
I’m Kind of Speechless
But . . . “You don’t really think
he’d try to hurt you, do you?
I mean, he wouldn’t want to
take a chance on going back
to prison, right?” Jeez, I def
can’t tell Mom, or no way
would she let me come over
to Dad’s anymore, even though
I can’t believe this Damian dude
is a danger to me. Or to Cassie.
I don’t know. I would hope not,
and I don’t want to live all paranoid.
Two more burning questions.
“Does Dad know? And does Chad
remember what happened?”
Could explain why he’s a little
chill. I wouldn’t keep it from your
Dad. And how could Chad forget?
When We Get Back to Dad’s
He is all cleaned up, ready to go
out to dinner, and then dancing.
Cassie doesn’t want to spoil
his good mood, so she asks me
not to say anything. I’ll tell
him when the time is right.
And please let me break
the news to Chad, too, okay?
I give her a hug and she goes
to get ready. I hate secrets.
Especially explosive ones.
Ones that feel ready to blow.
Dad and Cassie leave and Chad
is watching an awful Austin Powers
movie. I sit next to him, restless.
In fact, I’m almost ready to spill
when Bri calls my cell. Promise
you won’t tell, is the first thing
she says. I heard Mikki talking
to Dylan. She’s pregnant.
Dylan
Pregnant
The very concept strikes fear
into the hearts of young people
everywhere. In fact,
it’s
right at the top of my Do Not
Tell Me This list, just above
“You’ve got cancer and are
not
a candidate for chemo.”
Un-freaking-believable!
When Mik called to tell me
what
the two-blue-lines thing
meant, I thought she was
joking. Ginormous mistake—
I
laughed, and that made her
cry. Not sad tears. Pissed tears.
Then I asked her what she
wanted
to do, totally expecting her to
say abortion. She said she wasn’t
sure, and that’s not
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