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JJ
Age: Thirteen
“Juliette walked home from school with a boy today, Daddy.” My little sister, Charlotte is bouncing up and down in her seat as she tattles on me to our father. At nearly four-years-old, she lives to get me in trouble nowadays.
I swallow my mouthful of disgusting asparagus and hope that Daddy isn’t listening. Sometimes he doesn’t hear them telling on me, and other times he’ll snap at them for being disloyal to their “sister”. I hate it when he says sister in that funny way of his—making it clear that I’m not their real sister—but I’d rather hear him tell them off than have him turn his attention on me. I don’t want to be punished tonight. Not after the awesome day I had at school. For the first time in a long time, nobody teased me about the stupid buttoned-up way I wear my uniform or the fact that my hair was in an old-fashioned chignon like it is every day.
In fact, nobody teased me at all.
The new boy—the tall, good-looking new boy with his cool skate shoes and his English accent—went out of his way to spend all day with me and that made everyone else be nice to me. Nicholas even called me pretty in front of our classmates, saying that he’d love to see me with my long, dark-red hair down, so he could find out if it felt as soft as it looked.
“She did. She did, Daddy.” Elizabeth joins in when Daddy doesn’t answer Charlotte. He hasn’t looked up from the newspaper he’s reading while he eats his dinner with us at our big, fancy table. I want to kick the twins under the table to shut them up but if I do, they’ll cry, and then we’ll all end up in trouble. “We saw him. He walked her to the front door.”
Looking at me as they try to get Daddy’s attention, I swallow down the tears that try to fall when they laugh at me. Not long ago, I was their favourite person. Now they thrive on watching me get into trouble.
“Did you hear your daughters?” Mother cuts in. She shoots me a poisonous look when I jerk my head toward her, wide-eyed with surprise. I didn’t expect her to speak tonight. I heard her having a fight with Daddy in their bedroom when he came home just before dinner. She was limping, and her cheek was red when she served our dinner. When Daddy hits her, it means she’s been exceptionally stupid and useless, and has upset him more than usual. When that happens, she stays quiet for the rest of the night, unless Daddy speaks to her first.
Once upon a time, Mother was on my side and we would hide the little things that upset Daddy away from him together. We were a team until the twins got bigger and Daddy got angrier at their messes and their noisiness. Now I think she hates me, and even though I try so, so hard to be perfect for her, she doesn’t hide my little things from Daddy anymore—only hers and the twins.
“What are they saying, Carmen?” Daddy addresses my mother and she flinches at his angry voice. Oh, no. When he sounds like this, it means he had a bad day at work, and he’s going to be extra angry if we upset him. I pray to God I’m wrong.
I don’t think I really believe in God. Daddy says it’s impossible for one magical being to be responsible for the creation of the world, and that people who believe in God are stupid and don’t understand basic science. Daddy’s a doctor, so he knows all about science, but a teeny, tiny bit of me wants to believe in God like my friends do, because their parents are nice, and they love them. Maybe if I believed in God or I found a way to prove to my parents that he’s real, they might be nice to me and love me again?
“Are they saying that you were inept as a mother once again today? That you allowed your barely teenaged daughter to be alone with a boy, unchaperoned? That you compounded your ineptitude by letting your toddlers see your stupidity? Is that what they’re saying?”
The twins fall still in their seat as Daddy’s booming voice fills the dining room, their laughter dying as they realise that they’ve woken the monster, and he’s not just angry at me tonight. When Daddy speaks like this, we’re all in the firing line.
“Dmitri, please. It wasn’t like that, at all. You know how wilful Juliette is. She doesn’t listen to me. I’ve told her not to walk home from school. I’ve told her that I’ll pick her up. I’ve told her numerous times to stay away from boys and to keep her attention on her studies.”
While Mother is offering her rushed excuses, I’m shaking my head in disagreement.
She’s lying about me. She said at the start of the year that she would no longer be “schlepping the twins down to my high school” to pick me up—that I was now “old enough and ugly enough” to get myself to and from school. She refused to give me money for a bus pass, so I was forced to walk every day no matter what the weather was like. Nicholas lives one street away from me, and when he found out that I didn’t catch the bus like he did, he offered to walk with me from now on. I knew if I was caught that I’d be in big trouble, but I really wanted to spend time with him and be normal for once, so I overrode my fear and broke my parents erratically enforced rules.
Slapping his hands palm down on the oak table, Daddy jolts me from my thoughts as he pushes to his feet and walks towards the twin’s side of the table. Coming to a stop next to Elizabeth, he swings her off her chair by her arm and shakes her until she stands on her feet. Then he tells her to bend over with her hands flat on the seat.
Biting my bottom lip, I look down at my tightly clasped hands as they shake on my lap. I pretend that I don’t hear him unbuckle his belt and that I don’t hear the ear-splitting crack it makes as it flies through the air, making contact with the delicate skin of my baby sister’s backside. Sinking my teeth into my lip hard enough to draw blood, I hum as she cries out from the strike, and then breaks into loud wails that earn her another slap from the belt for crying.
“Now, Elizabeth, how many times do I need to tell you that Patrice’s do not tattle on each other? We are loyal to our own. We are strong. We do not cry over trivial things like physical pain. Do you understand?”
I block out as much as I can when Daddy repeats the process with Charlotte, who thankfully doesn’t cry, before he sends them both to their room without allowing them to finish the remainder of their dinner. Listening to their little feet scampering along the marbled floor as they head for their bedrooms, subdued and sniffling, makes the fear I’ve been trying to ignore rise in my throat and choke me. I can’t breathe, the room spins when I chance a look up from my lap, and every atom of my being is hyper-aware of Daddy making his way around the table to me. Every hair on my body is standing on end, anticipating the moment he lashes out.
My eyes fly open, and I jump in my chair when Mother shrieks. Turning to look at her, I watch as Daddy seizes her by the front of her blouse and slaps her across the face. He hits her with his palm the first time, the next strike coming from the back of his hand. Her pearl necklace breaks when she tries to pull away and the jewels bounce in multiple directions as they hit the floor.
“If you were any sort of mother, I would not need to discipline my daughters constantly. A man should be able to enjoy a decent, home-cooked meal in the comfort of the house he pays for, without interruptions from unruly children who should know better.” Turning his attention from my mother to me, he continues. “Although, with you, I suppose it’s a case of you get what you pay for. You will always require a greater amount of discipline in order to overcome your dismal heritage.”
Dropping my eyes from his, I think about the adage I heard in English class a few weeks ago. “Water off a duck’s back”, that’s how I’m going to treat Daddy’s words about me tonight. If I cry, his punishment will last longer, so I’m going to act as if his words don’t affect me. He’d kill me if he found out, but I also mutter a quick promise to God—just in case there is one—that I’ll get an A+ on every test for the rest of the year if he makes Daddy finish his punishment quickly.
Pulling Mother’s face closer to his, he shakes her as he snarls. “If you didn’t have your looks and your father’s money, you’d be completely useless to me. Clean this mess up—”
I’m confused when he mentions mess since our home is always immaculate, until I hear china crashing onto the floor, breaking and shattering. It’s risky, but I can’t help peeking as Daddy wipes all of Mother’s expensive and cherished china plates, crystal tumblers, and sterling silver cutlery off the table, making a mangled, broken pile at her feet. He’s completely lost his temper. Spit is flying from his mouth and his eyes are filled with hate as he berates her. He throws her to the floor next to the pile, yelling down at her. His angry voice makes me tremble. I want to run away because I know my turn is about to come but my legs won’t move when I tell them to. I’m frozen stiff with fear.
“I said—clean this mess up. And then get out of my sight. I don’t want to lay eyes on you until you’ve decided that you’re going to do the name I gave you justice. Learn to control your daughters, and be a decent mother, before I lose all patience with you and file for divorce. Without me, you’ll have nothing. You’ll be nothing.” Daddy says this all the time to Mother, but for the first time, I find myself hoping that he’ll do it. He’s getting scarier and angrier—the nice Daddy I can remember from when I was little is a distant memory. Even though Mother hates me, it would still be better to live with my sisters and her by ourselves, than with an always angry Daddy.
“Juliette.” His sharp, angry tone snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, Daddy.” My voice quakes, the trembling from before becoming full-blown shaking.
“Come with me. It’s time for your punishment.”
Grabbing my hand in one of his, he picks his belt up from where it lays on the table and walks past Mother, who’s now kneeling on the floor sorting through the broken pieces. He pats her on the head as we pass. “I hate nights like this, Carmen. I hope you understand the lesson I’m trying to teach you all tonight.”
Raising her tear-streaked face toward us, Mother nods. “I do, Dmitri. I’ll fix this mess and put the twins to bed. Once you’re finished disciplining Juliette, I’ll be ready to make this all up to you.”
Letting go of my hand, Daddy turns back and runs a finger down Mother’s face. “I love you, Carmen. You’re the only woman who’ll ever understand me.”
“I love you, too.” Her tired, but happier voice follows us out of the dining room as Daddy pulls me behind him on wobbly legs towards my bedroom and my punishment.
*
“Eleven.”
I wince as the sting of Daddy’s belt radiates across the back of my thighs, although I’m grateful that since I started high school I don’t have to pull my school dress all the way up to be smacked on the backside. The back of the thighs might sting and burn more, but at least I maintain my modesty.
Bracing for the next strike, I count again as instructed.
“Twelve.”
The last one is always the worst, so I prepare myself by sucking in a deep breath.
Whack.
“Thirteen.”
I can’t help the cry that leaves my mouth as I say thirteen, and I stiffen waiting for the extra whipping I’ll receive for breaking Daddy’s “no crying” rule. It doesn’t come, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“One smack for every year you’ve been on this earth, Juliette. One smack for every year you’ve brought dishonour to the Patrice name.” I don’t understand what Daddy is saying. I’ve only been a Patrice since I was three. I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but I don’t get to because he pulls me upright by the top of my arm, spinning me to face him. Saliva lands on my face as Daddy scolds me for messing up today, but I don’t dare wipe it away.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Your actions forced me to punish not only you, but your little sisters and your mother as well. I hate disciplining you, but what you all received tonight is what you deserved. I can’t let you get away with embarrassing me and not doing as you’re told. You bear my name, and you will fulfil its legacy. I’ll make sure you do. You will be a good girl, a true Patrice, and you will not let me down again. Do you understand?”
I’m lost in the pulsing pain shooting through my legs, so I miss my cue to agree with him. Slapping me across the face, Daddy jerks me closer to him. “Do you understand, Juliette?”
Nodding my head as fast as I can, I answer him in a rush, desperate to get the words out before he hits me again. “I do, Daddy. I promise. I won’t embarrass you and I’ll do everything you say. I’ll be good.”
He stares into my eyes and I widen them, trying to make him see that I mean what I’m saying. I don’t want to be punished again. I don’t want my little sisters to be disciplined because of me, and I don’t want to see Mother hurt like she was tonight.
I’m never going to mess up again.
I’m never, ever going to let Daddy down.
I’ll be the perfect daughter from now on.
Tonight was all my fault and I will never forget that.
