"21"

Turning Tables

“DON’T.  Touch her again and I’ll lay you out!  I don’t care if you are my dad.”

Larry Romel looked up at his son towering over him.  “She made me.”

Tim heard it all before.  “Did she pour the alcohol down your throat?  Did she fire you from your last job?  Did she smash your last “art” piece?  No.  You did that all by yourself.”

“You are my son.  You should have respect.”

Tim’s derisive laugh was that of someone much older than his 15 years.

“As long as you live under my roof, you will have respect.”

Tim snarled, “You are not my father.” 

Danielle scooted away from Larry.  She pulled herself to her feet and stood behind her son’s 6 foot athletic frame.  “Get out!  Just take your sorry self and get out!”

Larry’s gaze shifted between his son’s raised fist and his wife’s angry eyes.

“Dannie, we should not be fighting like this.  We can work this out.  I’m sorry.  I won’t do that anymore.  I promise.”

“Quit turning the tables, dad!  You do this all the time, I could write the book.  First you beat her and then you’re sorry … until the next time.  There’s not going to be a next time.  Get out before I throw you out!”

“You can’t talk to me like that! You are my son.  This is between your mother and me.”

Danielle found her backbone.  Her voice was soft and cold.  “I’m done.  Get out now.  I can’t give anything more.  You ruin everything you touch.  Just go and don’t look back.”

Larry took a step forward, pleading, “Dannie …”

Tim’s fist connected with his jaw and drove him to his knees.  “I won’t let you close enough to hurt her anymore!  You can leave or get it again!”

“I have no place to go.” 

Tim was sickened.  He did not like to see his father weak and sniveling.  He did not like to see him at all.  There was no place in his heart for compassion or pity for his father right now.  Maybe with distance … maybe in time.  But he had to be the man.

It was strange for Dannie to take orders from her son.  But she did not question or correct him when he demanded that she pack all of his father’s things.  She did not protest when Tim threw the bags out the front door for all the neighbor’s to see.  She did not stop him when Tim grabbed the back of Larry’s muscle shirt and dragged him across the room and threw him out the door with the bags.  Tim slammed the door, and with it, all the tension that his anger produced to keep him from being beaten by his father.  Tim let his weakened state show by dropping to his knees and letting his forehead come to rest against the door.  Soon sobs of sadness and finality racked his body.

For the first time in a long time, Dannie could finally breathe.  She reached over her son to lock the door.  She padded him softly on his shoulders and went to the kitchen to clean up the mess.  She would not shed one more tear for the end of this madness. 

[word count: 541]



Close enough to start a war
All that I have is on the floor
God only knows what we're fighting for
All that I say, you always say more
I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb, I can't breathe
So I won't let you close enough to hurt me
No, I won't ask you, you to just desert me
I can't give you what you think you gave me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, to turning tables
Under haunted skies I see
Where love is lost, your ghost is found
I've braved a hundred storms to leave you
As hard as you try, no, I will never be knocked down
I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb, I can't breathe
So I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no
I won't ask you, you to just desert me
I can't give you what you think you gave me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, turning tables
Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior
When the thunder calls to me
Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own savior
Standing on my own two feet
I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no
I won't ask you, you to just desert me
I can't give you what you think you gave me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables, to turning tables
Turning tables, yeah, turning