“He Might Not of Thought She Was Worth Killing”

Dad would take his fist and put it on mom’s forehead and then drag his knuckles down her face . . . pushin’ real hard on her nose and her lips and her chin . . . mashin’ them. She stood there trembling as he menaced her. Then he would go out drinkin’. He NEVER took her. I don’t think he ever took her anywhere. He never bought her a birthday present or a Christmas gift. He never gave her a bouquet of flowers. There was no Anniversary celebration. Once he did come home with a heart box of candies. It was on the kitchen table the next morning. Mom was in a state of shock and refused to accept it. After he left for work, she kept sayin’, “Vy . . . vy ees he trying to give me dat now?” We were trilled at the gesture and didn’t have a problem with his motivation. We ripped the cellophane off and fell upon those chocolates like starved dogs. We devoured all of it and then fought over the red foil box until we tore it apart. But mom had refused to eat even a single piece of candy. She just stood there watching . . . thinking . . . wondering why he would, out of the blue, bring her a Valentine and then she said, “Dat man must haf done someting wery bad.” She swept up the mess we’d made and threw it in the trash.