Janice Johnson - Revelations

But…she was here. Another woman had actually called her and suggested getting together. For once, Ann had looked forward to a day off, because she had plans that weren’t solitary.

Now, that was pathetic.

“You had a mother,” she said. “I didn’t. I mean, not after she died.”

Eva’s delicate face hardened. “How true. You didn’t have to watch your mother trembling with anxiety as she rushed to do your daddy’s bidding because she was scared to death of him. Count your blessings.”

“Scared?” Ann forgot her own preoccupation. “You mean…?”

“He hit her? Sure he did. Carefully,” the other woman said, with something approaching hatred icing every word. “He wouldn’t want anyone to see a bruise and ask questions.”

Remembering Rochelle Verger’s damaged face, Ann felt the grip of rage. “Did he hurt you, too?”

“Once. That was the only thing that stiffened Mom’s spine. She told him if he ever touched me again, she’d take me and leave. He scoffed, but I think he believed her, because he never did. We had horrendous fights when I got old enough to scream back at him, and a couple of times he lifted his hand, but he always thought better of it.”

“Wow.” Food forgotten, Ann stared at Eva. “I never knew.”

“I was ashamed.” Eva gazed with seeming blindness at her salad plate. “I never told anyone. My friends knew he and I fought, but I never told them that sometimes, when he got mad enough at me, he took it out on Mom.”

Shock whammed her like a steel door of which she hadn’t stepped clear. “Oh, no! Eva…”

This new friend offered a twisted smile. “Pretty sick, huh?”

“You’re making me glad he had plenty of time to know he was going to die.” Seeing Eva wince, Ann closed her eyes. “That’s a horrible thing to say about your father. I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. When I said I hated him most of the time, I meant it. Once I left home we worked out a civil relationship, but my teenage years were hell. I was so full of anger I couldn’t restrain myself, and then the next morning I’d see Mom moving stiffly and I’d know.” She shuddered. “I despised myself and him both. I was mad at her, too, for taking it. I will never understand…” Eva stopped. Let out a breath. “Mom won’t even talk about it.”

Ann bit her lip. “I almost envy you, being able to hate him like that. I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure out why nothing I ever did made my dad proud. Even when he did give a compliment, it was embedded with an insult. This time I’d done okay, unlike my usual, was always implied. I don’t remember him ever, once, telling me I was great at something.”

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