Brock
Time freezes and silence descends. Ripley crumples in Jonah’s arms, her eye swelling up immediately. I’m frozen where I stand, a nauseous feeling swirling around in my gut. I hit her. I hit Ripley, and now she’s unconscious on the ground. It’s like a home movie in my head. Images flash through my mind: my dad slapping my mom right out of her chair at the dinner table, him grabbing me by the throat and holding me against the wall while my mom cried, my mom and I leaving in the middle of the night only to have him find us and drag us home.
Every picture is of my father hurting me, hurting my mom, and now I’ve hurt Ripley, the only person I’ve ever loved, the one I swore I’d never hurt. Jonah’s bent over her body and then people start moving around me. Kat and Cale come toward me, their expressions full of shock and fear, and I finally become unstuck. I hear Cale call after me as I back away and then turn, rushing through the crowd. Everyone gives me a wide berth and I head right to my truck.
Images assail me, images of Ripley’s eyes rolling back in her head, the shocked look on her face, and then nothing. As I hit the gas, my body goes numb, my mind gets fuzzy, and all I want to do is crash my truck, hoping it kills me. Tears spill down my cheeks and a pained cry slips past my lips. I whip my truck over to the side of the road, smacking my head against the steering wheel over and over.
“What have I done?” I don’t even recognize the sound of my own voice right now. Why did I leave? I need to go back, need to make sure she’s okay and tell her I’m sorry. It was an accident. She shouldn’t have gotten in between us. I wipe my face with my t-shirt and throw my truck into gear. Before I can turn around, I spot an ambulance flying down the road, my stomach sinking as I watch it fly by.
I need to leave, and I need to do it to protect Ripley. She deserves someone better than me, someone who will cherish and protect her, not hurt her. Instead of turning around and heading back to the party, I head home to pack a bag and leave town.
I park a block down from my house and keep to the shadows as I make my way toward it. The little blue bungalow I’ve lived in since I was born is up ahead, and I move around to the side and open the window to my bedroom. I quickly grab some clothes and shoes, stuffing them in my duffle bag. On top of my dresser sit several picture frames: Ripley and me at prom, Ripley on my back at the homecoming game, Ripley and me sitting in front of the Christmas tree at her parents’ house. I rip the pictures out of the frames and stuff them into my bag.
As I look around my room, a knot grows in my stomach. I need out of here. I toss my bag out the window and then climb out, walking away from my house for the last time. Once I’m back in my truck, I pull out my phone and call the one person who would never tell anyone where I am.
“Brock?”
“Hey Granddad. I need your help.” My dad has parents I’ve never met; this is my mom’s dad. He and my grandma cut my mom off after she went back to my dad when I was ten. They were hoping it would guilt her into leaving my dad for good, but it backfired and she never spoke to them again. My granddad reached out to me when I was sixteen and made sure I knew that if I ever needed him, he would be there for me. No one knows I’ve been talking to and seeing him, not even Ripley. Tears leak from my eyes as I relive the punch over and over again.
“Son, you are not your father. It was an accident. Stay with us tonight, get some rest, and tomorrow we’ll deal with everything else, okay?” They live only twenty minutes away.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks Granddad.” I head toward their home and try to quiet my thoughts, but they’re loud and unforgiving. My phone beeps, which it’s been doing since I left the party. I don’t want to pick it up, but morbid curiosity has me doing it anyway.
CALE: WTF!!!!! Where are you? Rip’s crying for you. We know it was an accident. We all do. Get here now, she needs you. She’s starting to freak out.
An image of Ripley’s eyes rolling back hits me and I roll down my window, throwing my phone out of it. She’s awake, which is good. She’ll be okay.
A short time later, I pull in front of my grandparents’ house. I grab my bag and as I walk up the sidewalk, my granddad meets me at the door. He pulls me right into a hug, squeezing me tight. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” I almost believe him . . . almost.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I sit in the passenger seat of my grandpa’s car, staring through the windshield at the recruitment center for the Marine Corps. Over the past few days, I’ve talked to my grandparents and have decided to enlist in the Marines. I know I’m running away from everything, but right now I feel like I have no other option. I’ve got all this shit balled up inside me and I don’t ever want it to come out like it did again.
My grandparents are worried. I haven’t been sleeping because every time I fall asleep, I relive the whole thing. I’ve woken up crying, gasping for breath, and I’m depressed. I’m falling apart. They’ve tried to convince me to call my mom, but I can’t, at least not yet. I called Ripley twice, blocking my grandparents’ number so she couldn’t call back. Both times, she answered, her voice sounding tearful, and I never said anything, just hung up.
I look down at the fading bruises on my knuckles and nausea swirls in my belly. They’re bruised because I hit her, because I lost my cool because of some asshole and his words. A roughened hand covers mine. “You are not him. Boy, do you hear me? You’re not your father. You don’t have to do this. We can go home right now.”
“I have to do this. I can’t explain it, but I do.” With a sigh, my granddad shuts the car off and we climb out. My grandma decided not to come because she’s not on board with my decision, though she says she’ll support me regardless.
Once we’re inside, I begin talking to Sergeant Richards, and it’s weird because once he starts asking me questions, a sense of calmness and purpose washes over me. I confidently tell him what he wants to hear, that I’m joining because I want to make a difference, that I want to defend our country. Do I mention to him that I’m running away from my problems? No.
Earlier this morning, I withdrew from school. It was painful because Ripley and I were supposed to go together, but now she can go and meet someone who won’t hurt her the way I did. She’ll never have to fear that they’ll turn into their abusive, drunken father.
Right here in the office, they have me take a practice version of the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, or ASVAB. I sit down and begin working on it, and in about thirty minutes, I’m done. The recruiter grades it and looks at me. “I’m going to try to get you in to take the real test down at the government building this week. Does it matter which day it is?”
“No sir, it doesn’t matter.” He disappears and then returns a few minutes later; I can go down there this afternoon. It will start at two o’clock and will take me around three hours to complete. Apparently I scored extremely high in all areas so they’re sending me pretty much right over.
The recruiter tells me to come back after I get my physical on Thursday—I didn’t expect things to move this quickly. He gave me a list of MOS codes so I can start looking at different jobs I can pick, then we say goodbye and my granddad drops me off downtown. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’ll just be waiting for you in the car.”
I watch his car drive away until it disappears in the distance, then I look up at the large brick building and head inside with a sigh.
Two weeks have gone by and I’m finally heading to boot camp in San Diego. That will be twelve weeks, and afterward I’ll be in MCT, Marine Combat Training. I’m glad to have all that going so I won’t have to think about who I’ll be missing. Right now I’m in a hotel room that the military paid for while I wait to head out in the morning. My flight is at six AM.
My grandparents wanted to come and make sure I got off okay, but I told them I’d be fine because I didn’t want them driving the three hours to Chicago. I had taken the bus to Chicago earlier in the day I made them promise not to call my mom and tell her until tomorrow afternoon when I’m already in California, though it’s not like she would come anyway.
I grab the phone on the desk in my room and dial Ripley’s number. It rings and rings, and I’m about to hang up when I hear her voice.
“H-Hello.” It sounds like I woke her up. “Hello?” I hear her take a deep breath. “B-Brock is that you? Please answer me. Where are you? Are you okay? Brock?” I hang up when I hear her voice break at the end.
I slam the phone down and throw myself back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as that night comes back to me. After I dropped Rip at home so she could get ready for the party, I took off toward my place. I noticed the lawn was overgrown and knew I’d need to mow it; my dad certainly wasn’t going to do it. When I stepped inside, I found my mom standing at the dining room table folding towels.
“Hey Mom. How’s it going?”
She reached up and stroked my cheek. “It’s good honey. I’m so proud of you, did you know that?”
I hugged her tight. “Yeah I know. Where is he?” Her body stiffened and rage filled me.
“Your dad’s outside on the back porch.”
I left her to finish folding, went to my room, and changed my clothes. On my bed, I lay back and closed my eyes, intending to do so just for a second. Sometime later, something hitting the wall woke me with a start. I grabbed my phone and saw that I was supposed to pick up Rip in ten minutes. I climbed out of bed and opened my door to see that my dad had my mom pinned against the wall. Her face was red. “I-I’m s-sorry. I didn’t realize what t-time it was. Dinner won’t t-take me very long.”
He let my mom go and she scurried away, and I couldn’t help but yell, “Why don’t you leave her the fuck alone?”
As always, he struck fast. The back of his hand connected with my cheek two times in rapid succession, and then he popped me in the mouth. Before I could react, he had me against the wall with a hand wrapped around my throat.
“You shut the fuck up.” His words were slurred. “How I take care of my wife is none of your concern. Maybe you could learn something, or maybe I could train sweet little Ripley myself.”
Without thinking, I shoved him until he hit the opposite wall and slid to the floor. My mom was standing in the mouth of the hallway with tears running down her face, and I moved toward her, asking, “Is this really how you want to live your life? Leave him, I’ll help you.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Go, honey. Go to your girl. I love you.” After she kissed my cheek, I tore out of the house and made my way toward Ripley’s. I took the long way, needing to clear my head, though I knew I was already late and my girl was probably freaking out. When I pulled up in front of the house, I didn’t get out right away. I was filled with so much anger, I was scared to be around Ripley for fear of hurting her.
“Hey son.” I looked up and Rip’s dad, Jerry, was standing by my door. He didn’t react when he saw my face, but it wasn’t the first time he’d seen the aftermath of my dad’s anger. “Your face okay?”
“Yes sir. Sorry I’m late, I’m sure Rip’s freaking out.” I looked up and saw my girl standing on the porch, watching us.
“No need to be sorry. We were just worried about you. You know that no matter what we’re here for you, and when you’re away at school, we’ll make sure your mom is looked after.” Rip’s dad was the coolest, and he always knew how to calm me down. After that, I hopped out of my truck and went to my girl.
Back in the present, I’m finally exhausted enough to fall asleep. One of my last thoughts before my eyes close is that at this time tomorrow, I’ll be in California.