Ice Cream Hell

         I had just come back from summer camp, it was the day after. I was tired and sunburned, Rachel or Matt was sick, running a low grade fever. We were lounging around the living room, in various states of dress, some pajamas, some short sets. Laying there, feeling the air from the fan brush across my face, listening to the TV, background noise. Until a car pulled into the driveway, and the door opened; something was about to happen. Mom got up to answer the knock, and dad was at the door.

“I’ve come to take the children for ice-cream”

“Dave, it’s not a good time. They’re tired right now, and Matt has a bit of a fever. Maybe tomorrow? You tell me what time, and I’ll have them ready.”

“No, they are MY kids, and I’m taking them out for ice-cream”

         Uh-oh, fight; time to mobilize. Dad starts to push past mom, force his way into the house. I grab Matt, thinking if I can get him to Joan’s, over the fence, she can call the police if dad tries to get in. Rachel is holding Mom’s leg, I couldn’t get her away if I tried: Rachel’s grip is stronger than superglue. So as dad is coming in the front door, I head out the back with Matt. All I can think is to get him over the fence to Joan’s. Then if I can climb over, we’ll both be safe. I make it halfway across the driveway, when I feel his hand on my arm.

“Where do you think you’re going.”

         That’s not a question, not one there is an answer to. His hand tightens on my arm, steering me toward the car. I suddenly know that if we get in the car, something bad is going to happen. I see Uncle Dennis, standing in the vee of the front passenger side door. He looks, funny, strange; he’s not happy to be there, like he’s almost embarrassed. No time to think about that though, as I’m trying to drag my feet, Matt holding on to me like a koala. Dad’s hand keeps getting tighter on my arm, up near my shoulder. I can’t get in the car. I can’t let Matt in the car. I don’t know why, but I know it’s important. Dad grabs at Matt, tries to swing him into the car. I follow, and slide across the seat trying to open the opposite door. Dad moves to counter me, I slide back and forth across the seat like a ping pong ball, trying to open the door, get Matt out. I see dad standing near the hood with his hands on Rachel’s waist, pulling on her. Rachel still has that vise grip on Mom. Mom’s holding her, arguing with dad. Uncle Dennis leans on the door, still with that absent look, blocking us in. I slide to the other side, trying to get out: dad notices, he walk quickly back from Mom to close the door. Dad walks back to Mom, and keeps arguing.
         But then I see Nana & Papa coming across the street, and I grab the door handle. I get the door open, and stick my legs out, reach over for Matt. Dad notices and lets go of Rachel, comes over and tries to shut the door. My legs are still there, and it hurts, but I’m too scared to care. Papa arrives, and opens the door. Smoothly, he doesn’t push dad, or shove the door, just that dedicated motion. I hand Matt out the door, someone takes him, I slither out, behind Nana and Papa, and walk up the porch steps. I open the front door, and Matt follows. I take his hand and we climb upstairs, across the room, and hide in the closet. The fake wall, with splinters from the paneling poking into my legs: it’s hot, with the sun streaming through the window, and I can feel my sweat, smell it. Even with as hot as it is, even then, I can’t stop shivering. I sit in the closet, holding my baby brother as tight as he’ll let me, and shiver, not crying, staring at the dust in the sunlight.