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What Peace There May Be in Silence
by
Jon Harding
Would you like some more tea, Dolly?
Yes, please, Wendy. How nice of you to ask.
There you are. Would you like a biscuit as well?
Oh yes. How thoughtful of you.
How was your morning, Dolly?
Oh, it was simply wonderful, dear. I went for a walk in the park and fed the birds beside the fountain. The sun was shining and the grass was green. It’s such a beautiful day.
It sounds wonderful. Did you see Mrs. Smith?
Yes, indeed. She was walking her dog and pushing her new baby’s carriage. She looked very beautiful. She said to tell you hello.
How nice of her. Is the new baby cute?
Oh yes. He has bright green eyes, just like his daddy.
I feel the door slam shut. Daddy’s home (H-O-M-E). After a few seconds, I can smell the bad smell from him. Sometimes he comes home smelling that way. I don’t like it.
I can feel his footsteps in the floor I’m sitting on. His black boots make the floor shake. I can feel Mommy’s chair (C-H-A-I-R) scraping on the floor as she gets up.
I don’t hear them ‘cause I can’t. Mommy says it’s because I’m deaf (D-E-A-F). She says I’ve been like that since I was born. I’ll tell you a secret, though. I don’t really want to hear things. Mommy, and Daddy can hear each other, and all they do is yell. I like just hearing things in my head, because then I know there’s no bad stuff about them. I make my dolls talk to me in my head, and they’re never mean to me and they never yell at me.
Sometimes Daddy yells at me, especially when he has that bad smell. But when he yells his face changes and I can’t watch his mouth (M-O-U-T-H) to see what he says. It’s too hard. That just makes him madder, though. I don’t really know why, it just does.
Dolly, how was your ballet lesson today?
It was fine, Wendy. Soon I’ll be able to stand up on my toes.
I wish I could take ballet lessons. I want to be a ballerina when I grow up.
Someday you’ll be a ballerina, dear. You’ll be the best ballerina ever.
Why thank you Dolly. How sweet of you to say. Mommy said we couldn’t afford lessons.
It’s all right, dear. Someday you’ll be able to afford them. And you’ll wear the most beautiful ballet slippers
anyone’s
ever
seen.
Daddy and Mommy are yelling at each other again. I know because that’s what they always do when Daddy comes home with the bad smell. I’m not really sure why they do. Mommy never really told me what the bad smell means. But when Daddy comes home smelling like that they always yell at each other.
Daddy doesn’t smell like that when he goes to work in the morning. He looks nice in his blue work suit. He has a shiny badge that he pins on his chest. He wears a hat (H-A-T) and he has a big belt with something black hanging from it. He told me I’m never to touch that black thing. He says it’s very, very dangerous and it could hurt me very much. It doesn’t look very dangerous, though.
But sometimes when Daddy comes home he has the bad smell, and then they always yell at each other. I don’t know what Daddy does at his job that makes him smell like that.
Daddy says his job is to protect people from the bad people. He says that there are a lot of bad people out there. He says that the world is a bad place, and it’s going to hell in a handbasket. I don’t really know what that means, either, but when Daddy says things like that I know he’s mad.
But sometimes Mommy shows me books (B-O-O-K-S) with beautiful pictures in them. She says they’re pictures of places far away. There are pictures of castles, and knights (N-I-T-E-S), and ladies wearing the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen. Mommy says the ladies are princesses. Sometimes she calls me her princess.
Daddy calls me his princess too, but it’s different when he says it. His face does different things than Mommy’s. Sometimes I think that Daddy doesn’t really mean it when he says that. I don’t know what he means. But I guess I’ll understand when I’m older. Mommy says I’ll understand a lot more things when I’m older. She says that a lot. She says that I shouldn’t worry too much about things I don’t understand because I’ll understand them when I’m older. She says I should just worry about being a little girl for now, and when it’s time for me to understand these things I’ll understand them.
I wish I was older now.
You’ve finished your biscuit, Dolly. Would you like another?
Certainly, Wendy. Thank you very much.
I baked them this afternoon. I hope they’re good. I’ve never used this recipe before.
They’re delicious, dear. You’re a wonderful cook.
Why thank you, Dolly. How nice of you to say. Would you like some sugar in your tea?
Oh, no thank you. I have enough, I think.
Was little Billy in the park today?
Yes, dear. He was playing with his new puppy. He looked very happy.
I’m glad. He wanted one for so long. What did he name it?
Sparky, I think. Such a nice boy, Billy. I’ll tell him you said hello next time I see him.
Daddy and Mommy are still yelling at each other. I know because I can feel the shaking when Daddy slams his hand down on the table. He only does that when he’s really mad. I don’t know what Mommy says to him that makes him so mad, but I know that he only does it when he has the bad smell. I can feel his black boots through the floor, too.
I know what’s going to happen next.
I don’t turn around because I don’t like to see it.
It’s scary when Daddy hits Mommy.
Sometimes, when Daddy’s really, really mad, he hits Mommy. Mommy told me that whenever he does I shouldn’t watch because it’s scary. She doesn’t want me to be scared (S-K-A-R-E-D) because she says that Daddy doesn’t really mean it when he… does that. I don’t know why he does it, but I know he only does it when he has the bad smell. I think the bad smell makes him do it.
One time I did watch it. Daddy was hitting Mommy in her face. He kept yelling something but I couldn’t see what it was because his face was different. His face was more different than any time I’ve ever seen. He didn’t even look like Daddy anymore. It was scary.
Mommy was holding her arms up to stop Daddy’s hands from hitting her, but sometimes they still did. Mommy was crying, and there was red (R-E-D) stuff on her mouth. Every time Daddy hit Mommy, I could feel it in the air and in the wall (W-A-L-L). Then Daddy pushed her backwards and her back hit the wall, and I felt that too. That was when I stopped watching, and I never watched it again. It’s too scary.
Afterwards Mommy always comes and hugs me. I hug her back because I know it hurts when somebody hits you. One time at pre-school one of the other kids hit me on the shoulder and it made me cry. I had a bruise (B-R-O-S-E) on my shoulder for a while. Sometimes Mommy has bruises on her face and arms from Daddy’s hands.
Mommy says that I can’t tell anyone about when Daddy hits her. She says it’s no one else’s business (that’s a big word I can’t spell it) what happens in our house. I don’t really understand when she says that, but I don’t tell anyone because she told me not to. It’s still scary, though.
I wish Daddy didn’t hit Mommy.
Did you see anyone else in the park today, Dolly?
Yes, dear. I saw Mr. Jones sitting on the bench reading his newspaper. He reads it there every single day and eats his lunch.
Why does he do that, Dolly?
Well, he says it’s because he loves to feed the birds. He gives them popcorn that he buys from a man in the park. Sometimes the birds even come right up to him and eat from his hand.
That’s wonderful. Mr. Jones is such a kind man.
Yes, dear, he is. He’s been quite lonely since his wife died, though.
It seems like so long ago.
Yes, but he has a good heart. He always has a smile on his face.
I can feel Daddy hitting Mommy through the air and through the floor. I don’t turn around.
I don’t want to see. It’s too scary.
I can feel it again and again. I can feel Mommy moving around, trying to stop Daddy’s hands. I know Mommy is crying. I know there’s red stuff on her mouth. I think it looks the same every time as the time I watched it. Every time it happens it makes me remember.
I don’t want to remember it.
I feel a big shake and then a lot of little ones. That means that something’s broken (B-R-O-K-E-N). I don’t know what it is. I stay in the corner because I know that it’s dangerous when things are broken. I could get a cut.
I think more things are breaking. It’s hard to tell when there are so many things happening.
Daddy is still hitting Mommy.
Again
and again
and again.
…
What was that?
I’ve never felt a shake like that before.
It was harder than anything I’ve felt before. It felt like something hit me on my back. But I know nothing did. It came through the air just like the other ones.
The other ones have stopped. Daddy’s not hitting Mommy anymore. Whatever that big shake was, it must have been a good thing.
I can feel Mommy’s feet coming closer to me on the floor. Her feet don’t make big shakes like Daddy’s black boots, but I can still feel them. Now she sits down next to me and I look at her. Her face has funny shapes on it, and there is red stuff all over her. I know she will have bruises tomorrow. She’s crying.
She puts something down on the floor (F-L-O-R) and hugs me. I hug her back and give her a kiss on the cheek. I look down at the floor and there’s Daddy’s black thing that he told me never to touch. There’s something grey coming out of one side of it, something that goes up and disappears. It smells funny. Mommy is shaking.
I don’t know what happened.
Dolly, what happened?
Don’t worry too much about it, dear.
You’ll understand when you’re older.
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