Another Day

The house was thankfully silent. Her bones ached as she quietly made her way to the kitchen to begin another day.

Another day. She was alive to see another day. Some days she didn’t know if she’d see the sunrise of the next but somehow she always managed regardless of how weary her spirit was.

Hoisting the timeworn heavy kettle from the old dilapidated stove took every bit of her strength. Her arms and hands shook as she set the kettle into the chipped porcelain sink. As she felt the cold water spill into her hands and into the kettle she ached, a deep ache from years of hard work. Examining the deep lines within her hands she frowned and wished fleetingly for hot water. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came; there was no wishing in her life. Her hand in life had already been dealt to her and her day wouldn’t wait for “sissy crying” as her grandmother would tell her.

With great effort the kettle was back upon the stove in its proper place as her day began. She deftly struck a match and lit the stove expertly like she had been daily for many years. Surveying the sparse kitchen she sighed with relief. At least there wouldn’t be a lot to clean today.
As she waited for the signs of life in the house to begin she opened the backdoor of the kitchen and shooed the chickens away and made her way to the hen house. Passing the family cemetery she saw the graves and the names of those before her knowing one day her name too would be written crudely on a simple cobbled stone. Saying a silent prayer to those who lay dead she continued on with her day.

It was dawn, the sun was just peeking over the rise as she shoved open the uneven door. The chickens were on their roost with their eyes still at half-mast ignoring her has she smoothly slid under their warm bodies scooping eggs like a thief in the night. When she gathered the dozen she came for she silently padded back to the house to begin her day.

When she arrived in the kitchen there he was all six feet six of him. She’d never seen another man that tall in her life. He was a giant compared to the smallness of her frame. He made eye contact with her, and she quietly panicked, as she cast her eyes to the floor.

“Coffee ready?” he asked menacingly in the form of a statement rather than a question.

She knew that tone and she knew at that moment her day could go either way. Shaking her head, she managed “No, not yet” softly, “In about ten minutes” she replied. Hoping her answer or the way she replied didn’t anger him.

“Come here” he stated. It wasn’t a request, more like an order.

Obediently she walked to him still looking down at the cracked, stained tile floor. She felt his enormous vice-like hands grasp her arms and felt his rough beard against her neck. She knew if she stiffened and fought him it would be worse.
“Girl, you know I will make you love this. I don’t know why you fight me.” The bass in his voice resonated as he began to kiss her neck.

Recoiling from his touch wasn’t an option although every fiber in her being wanted to scream and run far, far away. Exhaling evenly she didn’t respond, she hoped he was thinking about other things other than her or her body. The disgust she felt for him was unfathomable. She wished him dead; her fantasies of killing him were disturbing.

Roughly he kissed her invading her mouth, the taste of stale cigarettes and last night’s whiskey still upon his breath. Trying to breathe and not vomit took much effort on her part as her body deep inside still hurting from the liberties he took the night before.

Tears began well up within her eyes, but she refused to cry.

With great relief she heard the tea kettle begin to whistle which distracted him. He discarded her dropping to her to the ground like a piece of trash as he grunted to her to make him coffee. Watching his back as he exited the house to the front door make her shudder, she hated him.
Now focused with the task at hand she quickly went about the daily chore of making him a cup of instant coffee, and dutifully serving him on the front porch like she had for so many mornings.

“Here’s your coffee, strong just the way you like it.” She said timidly.

Without a thank you, he accepted the cup and with a look dismissed her.

Scurrying back into the house she entered the kitchen and began breakfast like she did every morning. Skillfully cracking eggs she whisked them effortlessly and poured them into the sizzling pan while frying sausage in another. There was no money for store bought bread; she made a mental note to bake bread today. As she went about her duties two other small children joined her and pressed themselves against her thighs.

For the first time that day she smiled at the two sleepy headed children. Hugging them briefly and kissing the tops of their heads she scooted them away from the stove and to the kitchen table. As she finished breakfast she said “One of you go fetch your father it’s breakfast time.” The boys nodded wordlessly and like lightening they were outside calling their father to the table. Soon she heard the creak of the old screen door and the lumber his heavy feet as she began to dish up breakfast.

As the four of them ate in silence she looked around her and wondered how she got here. This isn’t what she signed up for. She wanted to much more for her life. Soon the meal was over and she was left to clear dishes, and begin her daily household chores. Filling the sink with scalding water from the heavy tea kettle she added a small amount of dish soap and made suds while immersing her awaiting hands in the steaming water.

He was still sitting at the table drinking his coffee when he called to the two boys.

“You got something to say?” He growled.

The both boys looked at him in bewilderment and then they both grinned – “Happy Birthday!” They chimed. She smiled and felt such longing and l love for the two small children.

“Happy Birthday Olivia” He said evenly, and quietly.

“Thank you Daddy.” She managed as she continued to wash dishes.

“How old are you today?” Lucas asked

With great defiance she looked directly at her father meeting his gaze and stated.

“12 Lucas, today I am 12.”