falling in love... with Farm Boy part 2

Chapter 2: Changing Tides

After a few weeks I found that the small town wasn’t that bad. Church was a little strange at first. Not that I don’t believe in God, but worshiping Him with a bunch of other people and bothering Him every Sunday with every other person around, seems awkward. Still, it was nice to be in a town where I knew everyone and could walk anywhere that I needed to go without being worried about being mugged.

I quickly got used to life in Carolina. School, then work, then the barn on most days or hanging out with some friends, then home for dinner. It was nice until things started to change with my dad.

One night when I came home he was singing along with the radio, which was unusual for him. Eventually, things got even weirder. School let out and George and I graduated. The next weekend, our power went out. Dad said that it must have been a mistake, but he never got it fixed.

I started showering at George’s house after a week with no electricity.

“You got any idea what’s goin on with your dad?” George asked one day after work.

“Nah, most of the time he’s asleep by the time I get home or he’s out working. I barely even see him.”

“Well, doesn’t he have any days off? You could talk to him then couldntchya?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll try that. Maybe he just needs some more money from me.” that truly was the only explanation I could think of at the time.

“George!” Ginger, George’s little sister, came screaming through the living room, “George, where’s the bottle to feed the baby cow with?”

“I dunno. You fed er this mornin. Watchya do with it?”

“I dunno” she said in an almost bored sort of yawn.

“Go check under the sink. Mom probly put it there when she washed the dishes.”

“Kay” she said running out of the room.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” George said turning his attention back to me.

“No problem.”

George and I hung out for a few more hours before he drove me home. It was a bit past dark when he dropped me at my house.

“Dad!” I yelled walking in, “Dad, I’m home.”

It was strange to not hear him yell, ‘Alright Lilah’.

“Dad? Dad, where are you?”

“Im righ ere” he grumbled from his bedroom.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m fye.”

I opened his door slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I whispered. I opened the door all the way and couldn’t see him anywhere.

“I’m fye!” he yelled. Following his voice, I found him behind his bed with a few crushed beer bottles around him. He was bleeding a little bit from what I could see.

“Dad! Dad, get up. We need to-” I started trying to get him to his feet, but he started waving his arms at me.

“Go way.” he yelled.

“Dad you-”

“Go way!” he yelled now at his feet with a beer in one hand.

“Whoa, dad, just a-”

“Bitch!” he yelled waiving the bottle around.

“Hey!” I yelled backing towards the door. Finally reaching it, I turned and ran down the hall.

“Get back’ere” he yelled as he smashed the bottle against the wall shattering the end of it.

He ran at me and shoved me onto the couch. I tried screaming but before anything could come out of my mouth he slapped me and shoved a pillow over my face. I couldn’t breathe. Waving my hands around frantically all I managed to hit was a nearby light that fell over and shattered.

“You lil whore.” I heard him mumble as the pillow on my face grew lighter and I was able to grasp little bits of air.

As I was catching my breathe he walked into the next room, the kitchen. He was grumbling things that I couldn’t understand and opened the knife drawer. As I watched him pick up each knife and quickly decide it was wrong and threw it behind him, I started inching my way to the door.

The floor squeaked with every step I took, but he didn’t seem to notice. My breathe quickened as I got closer and closer. Then, suddenly, there was an intense pain by my ankle.

“Where dya think your goin?” dad grumbled.

I looked down and saw a bloody knife lying on the ground. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it hurt. Another one came flying at me this time missing.

I started running. I made it out the door and across the lawn.

“Get back ere!” he yelled.

One of the neighbors’ lights went on. I was automatically drawn to that house. It was Mr. and Mrs. Beckham’s house. They were young, but both of them were elementary teachers so it was natural to refer to them by their last name.

By the time I got to the door Mrs. Beckham, who had heard my father yelling, had spotted me and opened the door.

“Lilah, dear, are you okay?” she asked like I was a child crying on the playground.

“No,” I panted, “My father is trying to kill me. I need the police.”

“Oh, dear. Well, come in, come in,” she hurried me, “Ronald, dear, call the police.”

“The police? What’s going on?” he said hurrying down the stairs.

“Oh my, what happened to your leg? Ronald, hurry up and call them.” she urged although he had already dialed the phone.

Mrs. Beckham started cleaning the cut above my ankle when there was a loud banging on the door.

“Could that be the police already?” Mr. Beckham asked as he opened the door.

“Where’s Lilah?” my father grumbled.

“I’m sorry Bob-” Mr. Beckhm started.

“Gimme Lilah!” he interrupted.

“Alrighty dear,” Mrs. Beckham whispered, “Let’s move into the next room and get you bandaged up.”

“Gimme Lilah!” my dad yelled again thrusting the door open, “There yar.”

“I’m sorry Bob,” Mr Beckham said stepping in front of my dad.

“Move!” dad yelled as Mrs. Beckham pulled me into the kitchen.

Something smashed and both Mr. Beckham and my dad started yelling at each other. Something else fell when a police siren started up.

Everything went quiet except the footsteps on the front porch.

“What’s goin’ on Ron?” a rough voice calmly questioned.

“We’ve got Lilah in the other room. She had a cut and was pretty shaken up. Said her pa was trying to kill her.”

“Bob, I’m gonna have ta ask you ta come with me.”

“No.” was my dads stubborn response.

“Bob-”

“No!” he yelled and something else smashed.

No one said anything. There was just some banging around for a little while and then everything was clam again.

Ron came into the kitchen soon after. “Okay, Lilah, the police man is putting your father in the back of his cruiser and you will be in the front. He’s going to bring you down to the station to ask you a few questions. Then, if you’d like, you can come back here and stay with us for a little while things get sorted out.”

“Thank you,” I said, “but I think I might see if I can stay with George. I practically live there anyways.”

“Alright, I’ll walk you to the car.” Mr. Beckham said.

“G’night Lilah,” Mrs. Beckham called as I was escorted to the car.

Walking through the living room I saw that the coffee table and couch had been thrown over, several books had fallen from the shelf, and the window in the door was smashed in.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ron assured me, “We’ll take care of it all.”

The police man brought me to the station. My father was taken down a hall to the back and through a door. I sat in a chair that was just inside the door. The police man came back and had me run through what had happened once and then called up George’s father for me.

George showed up to bring me back to his house.

“Are you okay?” he asked grabbing my face and looking in my eyes and then hugging me.

“I’m fine” I assured him almost breaking out into tears.

“I’m so sorry. I should-”

“No, this isn’t you’re fault.” I reassured him.

Okay, so I know this is kind of dorky, but he really did feel bad and I knew it wasn’t his fault. We went on in a tear filled emotional conversation for a few brief moments before we got the momentum up to go to the car and back to his house.

George’s parents were waiting in the living room when we got back to his house.

“Hey sweetie,” George’s mom, Carla, said wrapping me in a big motherly hug, “Are you alright?”.

“Yes, thank you.” I replied in a voice barely above a whisper. George’s parents were always really sweet, but they still made me uncomfortable when they hugged me or acted like I was a part of the family.

“Alright. Well, we made up the couch for you to sleep on for now.” Carla said.

“No,” interrupted George, “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

I couldn’t help but smile, “That’s alright-”

“No, I insist.” he said jumping on the couch.

“George!” Rick started.

“No, that’s okay. Thank you George.” I said.

“Alright,” Carla said, “We better be gettin to bed. Now Lilah, you go right on ahead and make yourself at home now, ya hear? Don’ be shy.”

“Thank you. Good night.” I said as Carla and Rick headed towards their room.

“Well, I gotta shirt and some flannel pants you could wear to bed if ya’d like.” George said leading me down the hall to his room. “Sorry it’s so messy.”

He searched his drawers and found a black t-shirt and some white flannel pants. As I headed to the bathroom to change I saw him start to throw the clothes on and around his bed into a pile on the other side of the room.

When I got back to the room the bed was sort of made and around the bed was, for the most part, cleared.

“Kay, well, night Delilah.” George said.

“Night.” I said back as he left the room, “Hey George.”

“Ya?” he said appearing at the door way again.

I grabbed him and hugged tightly. When our grip loosened again I kissed him. “Night.”