Guardian (10 page)

I approached the park and sent Colton and Grace off to play, feeling my steps slow subconsciously as I approached the park bench. Rafael was already sitting there. He sat immobile, still as a statue, eyes half closed. The sun glinted off his dark hair, showing lighter highlights that glowed gold, throwing all the hills and valleys of his perfectly sculpted face into high relief; the high cheekbones and hallows underneath, the full lips, hooded brows and high forehead, the strong chin lightly decorated with five o’clock shadow. He was truly breathtaking to behold and I paused for just a moment, enjoying the simple pleasure of looking at him.

His eyes suddenly snapped open, his gaze directly on me, and he smiled a little. “I can always feel you coming closer,” he said.

“Feel me?” I asked, sitting on the bench and allowing my backpack to fall to the ground.

“I told you once before, you feel like a church,” Rafael said, and then he peered closer at me, frowning. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said, avoiding meeting his eyes. Already, sitting in his serene presence was making me feel better, but clearly not enough to hide my anxiety from him.

But Rafael would have none of it. “Lyla, if you think I will drop this issue, you are sadly mistaken,” he said in a stern voice. “Aren’t friends supposed to share their problems with one another? Isn’t that a sign of ‘true friendship’?”

I couldn’t help laughing at that one. All week, when Rafael had refused to share something with me, I had given him a lecture on how friendship was really supposed to work, mainly with the goal of worming some of his secrets from him. Now, he was using my own words against me. “Fine,” I relented, though I was still unable to meet Rafael’s eyes as I spoke. “This morning, when we all got up, my mom was in a good mood. She was
there
.”

“There?” Rafael repeated, confused.

“I…” I tried to explain, and then the whole story came spilling out, my mom, the pancakes, the hug before school, the conference with Grace’s teacher.

“With my dad, it’s easy,” I told Rafael calmly, twisting my fingers in my lap as I watched Colton and Grace compete to see who could swing highest. “He had anger issues from the start, and maybe every once in a great while would drink a little too much and that wouldn’t help. When I was really little, well, I remember some bad fights between him and Mom, but then, they always made up afterward. Now, they don’t. Now, my dad is just like that all the time, the smallest thing can set him off, a bad day at work or just my mom not coming home at the precise time he thinks that she should. Combined with the excessive drinking he’s picked up, he’s just a bomb with a fuse so short you can’t even see it. But my mom…” I trailed off for a moment, thinking.

Finally, I continued, “At the library, I’ve tried to research it a little bit. I think she has some kind of bi-polar disorder. She’s only got two extremes, and can’t find her way to the happy medium. One end is today, being a real mom. She’s completely understanding, forgiving, patient. On the other extreme, she… she…” my voice faltered as my throat got tighter and tighter, finally too tight for me to squeeze my words through. There was a prickly feeling behind my eyes, and I closed them and expelled a long breath, trying to center myself. I had never said the words out loud before, never faced the reality that spoken phrases could bring.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Rafael finished for me.

I nodded slowly. “She gets really volatile, like my dad. Early on, I’m pretty sure she had some kind of post-partum depression, after Colton was born. Then she got pregnant with Gracie and I remember her being really happy. But once Grace was born, she fell into it again, even worse, and things got bad with my dad. Now, she can’t
stand
the sight of Colton or Grace. I’m not sure why, I just know that one time, after I got them out of the room, she told me to keep them away, because the sight of them made her sick, but me, me she could tolerate. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because they look so much like her. But I don’t understand why that would disgust her.”

“Deep down, she may be aware of what she’s doing to all of you,” Rafael said, his smooth voice calm and reassuring. “She may even hate herself for it. If Colton and Grace look like her, it may remind her of just that – herself. Perhaps even who she used to be, and feels she
can’t
be anymore. From what you’ve just said, I understand it wasn’t until Colton and Grace were born that you started seeing such a change in your parents. Your mother could deeply regret that she doesn’t, or maybe can’t, give them the attention they deserve at such a young age, but feels she doesn’t have to be guilty of that with you, which is why she can stand your presence. She probably takes pride in you, Lyla, though you can’t see it. As for sending them away… hurtful though it might be, hasn’t it preserved them in a way? They know your mother isn’t quite right all the time but hasn’t it helped avoid them seeing her at her very worst?”

We sat there in silence for a long time, Rafael content to stay quiet as my mind struggled to grasp all he had just told me. It was something I appreciated in Rafael, that he didn’t always feel the need to talk. There were times we could just sit without talking and just enjoy the quiet. Or relative quiet, at least, since there were always a few screaming children at the park and their scolding mothers. Spending my days with chatterbox Natalie, it was nice to find someone who could just let silence reign supreme at times. Especially now, when my brain was ticking away, trying to fit all the pieces together.

For so long, I had thought my parents simply hated us. This could probably be said in truth for my father; I really believed he just didn’t care anymore, not for his children, and not for his wife, either. But my mom… I had always wondered how a mother could just send away her kids. How could my mom bear to not even look at Colton and Grace, two of the most beautiful and well-behaved children in the world?

But Rafael’s view, his points, they made so much sense. Everything seemed so much clearer, made so much more sense, when he explained it all to me. Because my mom and I had had almost ten years together, nearly ten years of both my mom’s and dad’s undivided attention on me. I didn’t think I would ever find out what had made them change. I was too young to see the deterioration of their marriage at the time, wasn’t sure why things had gotten so bad so quickly.

Rafael made so much
sense
, and I felt a warm, contented glow fill me up with hope. Because this meant that my mom still had feelings. She wasn’t gone forever, merely a little lost.
Thank you, Lord, for sending me this man, for giving him this message for me,
I whispered in my heart of hearts. Out loud I said, very quietly, “Thank you.”

Rafael smiled down at me, angelically, beatifically, dazzling my eyes. “You’re welcome.”

That Wednesday, Natalie’s mom offered to drive Colton and Grace home after Bible study, while Natalie and I stayed behind to help coordinate signups for the mission trip later that month and collect payments. Both Nat and her mom had told me the donations for financial aid were looking promising for me, and against my better judgment I was beginning to hope that I would be able to go along as well.

When we were finally released, I allowed Natalie to drop me off at my house. I didn’t usually let Colton and Grace go home alone, because they were so young, and because I never knew what kind of mood my parents would be in, if they were even home. But they had begged and pleaded to go with Natalie’s mom and her brother Matt, whom they adored. Plus, their minivan had a television in it, which they found amazing, and because I knew I’d be out late, I allowed it. Now, running up to my front door and seeing my dad’s car in the driveway, I regretted my decision.

“Colton? Grace?” I called into the seemingly empty house. There was no answer from either sibling. I had taken one step forward when I heard a loud banging noise.

“Let me in right now! Open this damned door!”

I threw my backpack down on the floor and ran toward my father’s voice. He stood in the hallway before my room, ramming his shoulder into the door. From the way it wouldn’t open, I could only assume Grace and Colton had locked themselves up inside. Even as I watched, my father rammed his shoulder into the door and the wood made a cracking sound.

“Dad! Stop!” I ran forward, my only thought to get him away from the bedroom. The instant I put a hand on his shoulder, he turned violently, putting me off balance. The stinging slap to my cheek sent me to the floor.

“They need to get out of that room and clean this house! This place is filthy!”

I tried to ignore the sharp, stinging pain in my cheek as I stood up once again. “Just let me talk to them!” I begged. “We’ll clean the house top to bottom, I promise!”

“I’ve heard all that before! If I left you in charge, this place’d look worse than the crap hole it already is. Is the house clean right now with you in charge? No! Because you’re a disappointment and you can’t ever get anything right. Now open this door.”

“Just give us one more chance,” I pleaded. “We’ll get the house clean!”

As Dad turned toward me, his eyes bright and shiny with a mixture of rage and alcohol, I knew what was coming. My legs trembled, and I fought the urge to run away. My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to back down from protecting my siblings. It was them or me, and in the end, I would stand in their place every single time.

Please God,
I prayed as Dad advanced on me,
please be with me. Be with Dad, calm his anger. Keep Colton and Grace safe behind that door.

Dad’s fists hung loosely at his sides. “Open the door!” he called behind him one last time.

There was no response from behind the door.

The first backhanded slap sent my head crashing into the wall so hard I saw stars. He grabbed my arm and twisted it so far behind my back that I couldn’t help but cry out in pain. I regretted it instantly. Why couldn’t I have lasted longer?

“Lyla? Lyla! Hold on we’re coming!”

I heard Colton’s shrill, frightened voice through my haze and it broke my heart. My gut clenched and I fought hard against my father, who was looking at the door in triumph. He knew they would come to save me, though there was nothing they could do. They always tried.

“No!” I cried through the door. “You don’t come out of there unless I tell you it’s okay! Don’t you dare come out, no matter what happens! I’ll tell you when-” I broke off with a scream as I was bodily picked up around the waist. I fought desperately against the hands that carried me into the living room, but I knew it was useless. He always won.

The next day, I stayed home from school to nurse my wounds and to give the house a thorough cleaning. And, most unbelievable of all, I found myself unable to step outside and walk to the park. Every time I imagined myself facing Rafael in my current condition, with a heavy spreading bruise across my cheek and a split lip (not to mention numerous other bruises hidden beneath layers of clothing), I felt sick. I knew he wouldn’t take ‘Austin’ for an answer, and I also somehow knew he would be angry. I don’t know why I was so convinced of it – it wasn’t as though he didn’t know how my parents were – but still, I just knew it, as surely as I knew my own name.

So instead, I stayed with Colton and Grace that afternoon, playing games with them behind our locked bedroom door. I praised them for not opening the door, even when they heard me crying out in pain, though I had tried my absolute hardest to be silent. It wasn’t easy, letting someone you loved get hurt. Wasn’t that why I put them through it? So I didn’t have to be the one listening to them?

They were unsettled, and Grace had nightmares that night, but that was normal. And who could blame Colton for wetting the bed? As I played nursemaid and mother, I couldn’t keep the tears back. They didn’t deserve this life.
I
didn’t deserve this life. I wasn’t too noble to admit it. I didn’t want to face this life alone. I didn’t want to be the strong one anymore. Why couldn’t I have someone be strong for me? Didn’t I deserve to have a shoulder to lean on? I knelt down beside my bed to pray, but ended up sobbing myself to sleep. No one said I had to be strong all the time.

The next day was Friday, and I decided to stay home once again, just so the weekend would take care of any lingering bruises and I could show up on Monday appearing no worse for the wear. I was grateful to have so much time all to myself once again, and with the house totally spic and span from top to bottom, I settled down to catch up on all the class work I was undoubtedly missing. All was quiet until around noon, when I heard a noise from inside the house. I looked up from my seat at the kitchen table, unnerved.

Neither of my parents would be home this early, so why had the front door just opened and closed? Before I could truly build myself up into a panic, a few loud footsteps later revealed none other than Rafael. I was so shocked to see him standing there larger than life, actually
in
my
house
, that I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You didn’t come,” he said, as if that explained everything. Explained why he was standing in my house. The front door was
locked
. I’d made sure to lock it. I always locked it. How had he gotten inside?

“Yesterday,” he continued, “you never showed up.”

“I know,” I said, instantly feeling guilty. I tilted my face slightly to the side, trying to be discreet and hide the bruise so he wouldn’t notice. “I’m so sorry, Rafael. I would have let you know, but I had no way to reach-”