ARR 1988 - Flipbook - Page 47
be there. It wasn't my fault."
The inevitable kept on coming.
"You know you're not permitted to play with that gir1. You deliberately
disobeyed me!"
The belt slithered out of the loops and formed an exclamation point in
his hand.
Emily's defense was not to cry. She never, ever cried. She would
squeeze her buttocks together hard and clench her teeth and imagine she
was a soldier who was being tortured in a prison camp.
He only struck her about three or four times and then it was over for
him. The rage had subsided and he was congenial again. He was, after all,
only doing his duty as a father. How often had she heard that explanation?
"Now wash your hands and come in for dinner."
The dining table was long, mahogany, topped by an embroidered cloth
and Rosenthal china over which hung a majestic crystal chandelier. Emily
sat across from her mother, her father at the head of the table. Emily looked
at no one, eating slowly, unenthusiastically, running her finger along the
baroque pattern of the fork as she chewed a bite ofroast beef. She knew her
mother was looking at her, wanting to draw her out, cheer her up, make
pleasant conversation. She wondered how the silence would end ... who
would end it. Probably her father would find something to criticize, like,
"Emily, don't pick at your food!"
Her mother looked across at her with compassion and tenderness.
"There are so many nice girls at school, dear. Perhaps you'd like to invite one
of them to come horn~ with you after school tomorrow. That girl Carol, for
instance, the pretty one whose mother does volunteer work for the United
Jewish Appeal. Or Susan, the pediatrician's daughter?"
Emily mumbled something.
"Now don't be sullen," her father demanded, somewhat more gently
than his usual tone. Emily kept her eyes glued to her plate and somehow
dinner mercifully came to an end. She excused herself and went to her room
to dabble at her homework.
Mother came in to kiss her good-night just as Emily was dozing off.
"Would you like me to stay until you fall asleep?" She was tucking in the
blanket on both sides. Emily held her breath, but Mother gave no sign of
feeling the notebook nestled securely beneath the mattress.
"I was almost asleep already." Her mother's attentiveness penetrated
at her most vulnerable time. "Why did you marry him? He's so mean!
"Oh, so gently, Mother replied, "That's unkind, Emily. He gets excited
but he's not mean. He's a good man. He's really trying to teach you what you
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