Nick was charged with possession and in lieu of jail he was sent to a rehabilitation facility in West Virginia. Kaylin went to the hearing and visited Nick as often as she could. At night, after she ate a silent meal with seanahair she would lock herself in her room and cry. It was like the years before him were nothing compared to the months with him. In such a short time she had gotten used to Nick's voice at dinner, his laughter at the sitcoms her grandfather watched after, and the feeling of safety that filled her when he was around.
Alicia even braved running into Aaron, and came over in an attempt to offer support to her grieving friend, only to sit on the floor while Kay lay in bed and watch TV in silence. In school, Kaylin saw the pity in the eyes of her classmates and came to realize why her father hated the emotion. She hated the idea of people feeling sorry for her, and she plastered on a smile as best she could. It took no time for the Kaylin McSandsen everyone had known for so long: quiet, dependable, easily ignored to return to everyone's lives.
After the first two weeks of separation, Nick's letters began to pour in. He wrote every day, long rambling letters full of his emotions and daily activities. Kaylin wrote to him every time she received one of his. At first she was careful about her wording, and offered support and encouragement that he was doing the right thing, but it didn't take long before her letter became much like his, full of longing, and sadness at his absence. She told him how alone she felt in the world, how she missed everything about him, how she wore his tee shirts to bed and they smelled so much like him that she would wake up sure that he was laying next to her like he used to. He wrote that at night he was next to her, and the only thing that kept him going during the rough nights was knowing she was going to be there when he was well. He was going to classes, so he would finish high school on time.
Thanksgiving came and went; Nick was still in West Virginia, Aaron McSandsen got work at a plastics plant in a nearby town, and Francis continued his weekly routine of the VFW, mass, and television. Kaylin spent the holiday dinner with her father and grandfather at the VFW like every year. She was thankful this year for finding love and for Nick's promise of recovery.
The Sunday following Thanksgiving the entire family attended mass. It was a solemn event seeign as how Aaron rarely went anymore. As they arrived home, Nick's father was starting to pull out of their driveway.
"Aaron," Mark Ainsworth said, getting out of the car to extend his hand, "how've you been?" the two had known each other since the Ainsworth's moved to town. Mark worked for the union Aaron belonged to and had been the one to notify Aaron of the work opening up in Cedar Creek. "Doing fine. It's good to see you," Aaron shook Mark's hand, genuinely surprised by his visit, "How was your holiday?" he asked politely, tugging at collar of his dress shirt.
"It's was all right. I was in Wheeling, visiting my son," Mark cast Kaylin a look and she defensively put her arms around herself. "I'm actually here to talk to Kay about it. That OK?"
Aaron half turned to look at his daughter, "Yeah, suppose so. Kay?" She stepped forward, "that OK with you?" she nodded and gave both men a smile. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to get my father inside and take off this monkey suit," Aaron joked, taking Francis' arm and escorting up the few steps to the house.
Once the storm door snapped shut Mark began, "How've you been, Kay? You doin' all right?" Mark Ainsworth was young and lean for his age. His salt and pepper hair was curly and unruly even though it was trimmed short. He leaned against his car and fiddled with the keys in his jacket pocket.
"I'm good. Well, good as to be expected. How's Nick? He writes that he's ok, but you know, is he really OK?" she stood in front of him, her posture ridiculously stiff compared to his relaxed state.
"Yeah, yeah he's doing good. Real good," his eyes moved away from Kaylin's and stared beyond her at some distant point. He absent-mindedly sucked at his teeth and sighed, "We've been through this before, he and I. His mother was in and out of rehab a lot, so we're pretty used to the drill. I guess I should have seen this coming."
"No you shouldn't have. I didn't. And I saw him a lot more than you did," Kaylin offered, trying to be supportive.
Mark let out a sarcastic laugh, "Yeah. Guess so."
"No, I didn't mean it like that," Kaylin quickly realized her mistake, "you saw him, it's just that we go to school together and"
Mark waved her hand to stop her. "Don't worry about it. This isn't either of our fault. But listen, honey," he pushed off of the car and stood up straight before her, "they - the people at the clinic - are worried you two are too codependent. Like, you can't separate yourselves. That's not good for his situation."
"Oh," Kaylin looked down at her feet, clad in black combat boots and barely peaking out under the cuff of her jeans. She was wearing a pretty, black sweater to dress up the outfit making it church-worthy, but you couldn't tell it under her thigh-length winter coat. "Um, what are you saying?" She asked carefully.
"Just..." Mark measured his words, he too had been in a toxic relationship and if it wasn't for his need to move because of a job he probably would still be, "try to find a life outside of Nick. I'm not telling you guys to break up, but you need to realize that if you do, it's not the end of the world."
"Oh," Kaylin repeated making a face as if she just smelled something awful. "Well, thanks," she looked him in the eye and layered on the sweetness as she added, "thanks for stopping by."
"Well, there's more," Mark began as he moved to the trunk of his car, "Nick sent this for you," he lifted a large brown paper bag covered in doodles and stapled closed. "Happy Turkey Day, I guess," he laughed.
Kaylin took the present and smiled, "Thanks," she laughed too.
"If all goes well," Mark said folding himself into the drivers' seat of his car, "it's looking like he'll be home by Christmas. So keep your fingers crossed. If I hear anything else I'll let you know," he shut the door but rolled down the window.
Kaylin hugged the bag to her chest, "Same here," she offered and waved him goodbye as he pulled out of his spot along the curb and drove away.
Once inside, Kaylin rushed upstairs to be alone with her gift. She sat on her unmade bed and curled her legs under her. She examined the pen and ink drawings covering the brown paper: he had drawn out their names, intersecting them at the 'i,' there were the logos of their favorite bands, and of course the obligatory hearts and love messages. The top of the bag was folded over twice and stapled awkwardly shut, making the whole present look like an old lunch bag. She was careful to pull open the top, popping each staple's grip. Inside was one of his sweatshirts, a big over-sized green thing that would look like a tent on her petite frame. The shirt was wrapped around something and she unfolded it to reveal a perfectly molded mask of Nick's face. Her eyes filled with tears as her fingers traced the curves of his eyes, his nose, his mouth. She put the mask up to her face and tried to imagine Nick doing the same. She set the mask on the pillow next to her knee and pulled on the sweatshirt. She looked again into the bag and found a carefully folded piece of yellow paper with her name on it.
She laid back on the bed, put the mask on her stomach and read:
"Dear Kay,
Hey babe, what's up? Same old shit here. Meetings, therapy, bad food, same as always. They told me that I'll be home for Christmas, as long as I don't fuck up. We've got chores and a schedule to follow and I've been so careful to do everything they tell me. I miss you so much. I know I tell you that all the time, but I never want you to forget it. I never want you to forget that every minute of every day I'm thinking of you and wanting to be home with you again. I sit through the meetings, the therapy, the programs, and I think of you and pray to God that I haven't destroyed the only thing in my life that has ever really mattered. A lot of the people here think I'm too young to be in real love, but I don't care what they think. This is love. I've had other girlfriends, and I know that this is different. I know what we have is better. We may be young and I may be fucked up, but I can see myself with you for the rest of my life.
How's school going? Tell Stephen that I'll be home in time for training for baseball and tell Alicia to take good care of you while I'm gone. Only a few more weeks.
I love you.
Nick
PS Hope you like the presents. They're as close to my being with you as I could get"
Showing posts with label Aaron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aaron. Show all posts
Monday, June 1, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Part Two: Chapter Eight
The world changed forever that night. In the harsh light of the next afternoon, the local papers held the headlines that the factory was closing. Nick's father had been in Columbus trying to prevent it, and Kaylin's father had been drinking trying to deny it.
Nick stayed with Kaylin all day at her house helping her clean and care for Francis whose wheezing was getting progressively worse. Kaylin found she couldn't hide the black, mucous from Nick's eyes, but he never complained. Francis brushed his fingers along the bruise on Kaylin's face and turned her head to look at the scabbed over gash behind her ear. No one said a word, but Francis moved his eyes to Nick whose eyes held the anger of the previous night, and he understood. Francis knew his son's faults and had heard the argument, heard the sound of his granddaughter being hit, but his belief not to intervene held him at bay. It wasn't until he saw the damage to her face, saw the heat in this boy's face, that he realized something had to be done. Francis smiled at Nick, and put his hand on the boy's shoulder as he walked by.
This day, nestled in the house was like a bubble, shutting out the reality of the outside world. They all knew that eventually Aaron would come home, the truth of the factory closing would hit both their households, the summer would come to a close, but for this one day, they acted like a family, the dying old man, the bruised girl, and the boy who loved her.
As the day wore on, Francis napped, and Kaylin took Nick upstairs. She could hear the old man's breathing machine click and beep, so she knew he was sound asleep. It was then that Kaylin showed Nick how much she loved him, and with stifled pleasure they gave themselves to each other for the first time.
"Dad," Aaron said, seeing the old man approach from the kitchen, "everything OK?" Francis, never one to speak much, took his grown son's arm and led him outside out of earshot of the two teenagers preparing dinner only a few feet away.
The dinner was a quiet one, with Francis' coughing the only sound to be heard other than the familiar clinking of the dinner wear. Francis and Aaron had been gone a long time, and when Francis returned, he took his seat in silence. Nick and Kaylin had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for their return and took this as a sign to start dinner. Francis was seventy and every bit the gruff stereotype of a former coal miner, he spoke very little and his few actions were measured and part of a strict routine: it was no use asking him about his conversation. As the table was arranged, Aaron came in and joined them, looking humbled and getting a glass of whiskey from the cabinet. He seated himself not at the head of the table, but across from Nick who sat next to Kaylin along the wall.
The hailstorm that they expected from Aaron never came; his thoughts were elsewhere. His father had chided him like when he was younger and minced no words telling him that he was earning the respect of his friends, but loosing the respect of his family and his God. Aaron's mind was aching from his inevitable job loss, his intervention with his father, and the pain in his daughter's eyes whenever she looked at him. At some point she had become a woman. She had gone from a chubby little girl with ringlets who always hugged him when he came home, no matter how late, no matter what he must have smelled like (grease, booze, smoke), to a woman with all the attributes he had once loved in her mother. At thirty-six, his life had slipped away from him before he had a chance to realize it. He stared at the glass of whiskey he sipped from and then looked to the boy seated across from him who was chewing slowly, taking in the man.
Without a word, Aaron finished his dinner, stood up and went to his room.
Nick stayed with Kaylin all day at her house helping her clean and care for Francis whose wheezing was getting progressively worse. Kaylin found she couldn't hide the black, mucous from Nick's eyes, but he never complained. Francis brushed his fingers along the bruise on Kaylin's face and turned her head to look at the scabbed over gash behind her ear. No one said a word, but Francis moved his eyes to Nick whose eyes held the anger of the previous night, and he understood. Francis knew his son's faults and had heard the argument, heard the sound of his granddaughter being hit, but his belief not to intervene held him at bay. It wasn't until he saw the damage to her face, saw the heat in this boy's face, that he realized something had to be done. Francis smiled at Nick, and put his hand on the boy's shoulder as he walked by.
This day, nestled in the house was like a bubble, shutting out the reality of the outside world. They all knew that eventually Aaron would come home, the truth of the factory closing would hit both their households, the summer would come to a close, but for this one day, they acted like a family, the dying old man, the bruised girl, and the boy who loved her.
As the day wore on, Francis napped, and Kaylin took Nick upstairs. She could hear the old man's breathing machine click and beep, so she knew he was sound asleep. It was then that Kaylin showed Nick how much she loved him, and with stifled pleasure they gave themselves to each other for the first time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kaylin was browning meat for Hamburger Helper, and Nick sat at the table playing Gin with Francis when the screen door was heard. They all looked around, and Francis started for the foyer, waving Kaylin and Nick to remain. "Dad," Aaron said, seeing the old man approach from the kitchen, "everything OK?" Francis, never one to speak much, took his grown son's arm and led him outside out of earshot of the two teenagers preparing dinner only a few feet away.
The dinner was a quiet one, with Francis' coughing the only sound to be heard other than the familiar clinking of the dinner wear. Francis and Aaron had been gone a long time, and when Francis returned, he took his seat in silence. Nick and Kaylin had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for their return and took this as a sign to start dinner. Francis was seventy and every bit the gruff stereotype of a former coal miner, he spoke very little and his few actions were measured and part of a strict routine: it was no use asking him about his conversation. As the table was arranged, Aaron came in and joined them, looking humbled and getting a glass of whiskey from the cabinet. He seated himself not at the head of the table, but across from Nick who sat next to Kaylin along the wall.
The hailstorm that they expected from Aaron never came; his thoughts were elsewhere. His father had chided him like when he was younger and minced no words telling him that he was earning the respect of his friends, but loosing the respect of his family and his God. Aaron's mind was aching from his inevitable job loss, his intervention with his father, and the pain in his daughter's eyes whenever she looked at him. At some point she had become a woman. She had gone from a chubby little girl with ringlets who always hugged him when he came home, no matter how late, no matter what he must have smelled like (grease, booze, smoke), to a woman with all the attributes he had once loved in her mother. At thirty-six, his life had slipped away from him before he had a chance to realize it. He stared at the glass of whiskey he sipped from and then looked to the boy seated across from him who was chewing slowly, taking in the man.
Without a word, Aaron finished his dinner, stood up and went to his room.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Part Two: Chapter Six
And that is how the rest of the summer went: Nick would come to Kaylin’s house daily, sometimes early enough to sit and play cards with Seanathair before the old man went to watch his nightly shows. Before leaving her at her door, Nick always told her that he loved her. He never said it too often, or at odd times, but nightly before he kissed her goodbye. Kaylin had given up arguing with him about it, instead she would smile and kiss him again, or just smile and walk away. He had told her he didn’t expect her to say it back yet, but she would in time; his self-confidence never wavering.
One night, a week before the first day of school, Nick sat with Kaylin on the stoop of her house talking about school, classes, and nothing in particular when a car veered to a stop in front of the house and her father staggered out. Nick had never met Aaron, and had only heard about him in snippets from either Kaylin or Stephen. The way the man walked and carried himself up the drive Nick knew immediately who it was.
“You,” Aaron began halfway up the asphalt driveway. It came as more of a growl than a word, “so you’re the boy Kaylin’s been…what do the kids call it these days?...”
“Dating,” Nick finished for him rising to his feet, “I’m the boy that is dating Kaylin.” Nick stood up, not sure what to do next, this was a tense situation, her father was obviously drunk.
“Really? In my day we just called it fucking,” Aaron retorted and continued his walk to the house.
“No, I wouldn’t call it that, sir,” Nick answered angrily.
“Hrmph,” was all Aaron said back. He was close now, and shoved Kaylin out of his way to get to the front door.
“Nice to meet you,” Nick tried pulling Kaylin up. “If it’s all right with you, we’ll be going.”
Aaron slowly turned around, his hand on the latch of the screen door. “Actually, it’s not all right with me. I don’t take lightly my daughter running all over hell’s half acre in the middle of the night with some kid. Is this what you do now, Kaylin? Is this what you do while I work? Who’s taking care of seanathair?” He grabbed her elbow and began to pull her inside.
Kaylin jerked her arm away. “Certainly not you,” she snapped. Aaron stared at her in disbelief for a fleeting moment before his eyes turned to stone. He dropped his hand to his side and in a quick motion threw it back up and backhanded her. She went reeling down the two steps and sat on the concrete, holding her face. Through eyes hazy with tears, Kaylin saw Nick grab her father’s arm and shove him against the aluminum screen door. Aaron pushed Nick back, turned to open the door and disappeared inside the house.
Without another word, Nick turned to help Kaylin to her feet. She pulled away from him when he went to hug her, but nodded at his suggestion to go to his house. They walked the few blocks to the only apartment building in Riversedge: a utilitarian style square of brick that faced a small courtyard that had seen better days. The apartments inside were pleasant, but the occupants were either single parents or retirees. Nick’s home life was the former: Nick’s father worked for the union and relocated to Ohio after he and Nick’s mother divorced.
Not a word was spoken as Nick silently escorted Kaylin into the darkened apartment and over to his room. He led her in and shut the door quietly behind him. Nick stood in front of her, and for the first time since yelling at her father, spoke quietly, “Let me see your face.” He reached behind her to a lamp on his bedside table and snapped it on. Before he was even standing back fully, he could see the damage to her face. The hit had not landed evenly on her cheekbone as it was probably intended, but had caught her on her neck, under her ear leaving a bruise that stretched from her jaw line up to the ridge of her eye. There was a gash on the swath of skin behind her ear where a ring must have torn the soft skin like paper; the bleeding had stopped, but its maroon streaks had dried along her neck and matted a lock of her hair.
Nick put both hands behind Kaylin’s neck and cradled her head in his palms, gently brushing away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. His azure eyes burned looking down at her, angry at the mutilation of her beautiful features, and his own inability to have stopped it. There were hundreds of questions he wanted to ask her, but this wasn’t the time. Instead he moved to lay on his bed and without saying a word she lay beside him. Nick pressed his back against the wall and tucked Kaylin in beside him, her back to his chest, her head resting on his arm. He pulled her as close to him as possible and they wove their legs together. He loved her, more sure of it now than ever before.
It was then, when Kaylin felt finally safe wrapped in Nick’s arms, the heat from his body washing over her, that she allowed herself to process the events of that night. Everything happened so quickly that most of it didn’t have time to register. Her father who barely knew how old she was, whose affection she had tried her entire life to earn, had all but called her a whore. Her father’s words and actions tonight confirmed what she had for years been trying to suppress: he didn’t see her as a daughter; she was the caretaker of his father and a constant reminder of the woman who had become his wife.
Nick’s pull on her made her leave her thoughts and take in what was happening now. He was hugging her to him, and she was crying, her body shaking with sobs and her breath held from years of practice in knowing how to cry silently. Maybe she did love Nick, she was at her happiest with him near and his touch no matter how insignificant made her knees weak. It was a feeling she had never known before and didn’t easily recognize. They hadn't even been dating two months, and he had defended her against the brick wall that was her father. Maybe it was love. The exhaustion of the night's events, coupled with this new swirl of emotions was made Kaylin drift into sleep between catching her breaths and adjusting to the idea that she was loved.
One night, a week before the first day of school, Nick sat with Kaylin on the stoop of her house talking about school, classes, and nothing in particular when a car veered to a stop in front of the house and her father staggered out. Nick had never met Aaron, and had only heard about him in snippets from either Kaylin or Stephen. The way the man walked and carried himself up the drive Nick knew immediately who it was.
“You,” Aaron began halfway up the asphalt driveway. It came as more of a growl than a word, “so you’re the boy Kaylin’s been…what do the kids call it these days?...”
“Dating,” Nick finished for him rising to his feet, “I’m the boy that is dating Kaylin.” Nick stood up, not sure what to do next, this was a tense situation, her father was obviously drunk.
“Really? In my day we just called it fucking,” Aaron retorted and continued his walk to the house.
“No, I wouldn’t call it that, sir,” Nick answered angrily.
“Hrmph,” was all Aaron said back. He was close now, and shoved Kaylin out of his way to get to the front door.
“Nice to meet you,” Nick tried pulling Kaylin up. “If it’s all right with you, we’ll be going.”
Aaron slowly turned around, his hand on the latch of the screen door. “Actually, it’s not all right with me. I don’t take lightly my daughter running all over hell’s half acre in the middle of the night with some kid. Is this what you do now, Kaylin? Is this what you do while I work? Who’s taking care of seanathair?” He grabbed her elbow and began to pull her inside.
Kaylin jerked her arm away. “Certainly not you,” she snapped. Aaron stared at her in disbelief for a fleeting moment before his eyes turned to stone. He dropped his hand to his side and in a quick motion threw it back up and backhanded her. She went reeling down the two steps and sat on the concrete, holding her face. Through eyes hazy with tears, Kaylin saw Nick grab her father’s arm and shove him against the aluminum screen door. Aaron pushed Nick back, turned to open the door and disappeared inside the house.
Without another word, Nick turned to help Kaylin to her feet. She pulled away from him when he went to hug her, but nodded at his suggestion to go to his house. They walked the few blocks to the only apartment building in Riversedge: a utilitarian style square of brick that faced a small courtyard that had seen better days. The apartments inside were pleasant, but the occupants were either single parents or retirees. Nick’s home life was the former: Nick’s father worked for the union and relocated to Ohio after he and Nick’s mother divorced.
Not a word was spoken as Nick silently escorted Kaylin into the darkened apartment and over to his room. He led her in and shut the door quietly behind him. Nick stood in front of her, and for the first time since yelling at her father, spoke quietly, “Let me see your face.” He reached behind her to a lamp on his bedside table and snapped it on. Before he was even standing back fully, he could see the damage to her face. The hit had not landed evenly on her cheekbone as it was probably intended, but had caught her on her neck, under her ear leaving a bruise that stretched from her jaw line up to the ridge of her eye. There was a gash on the swath of skin behind her ear where a ring must have torn the soft skin like paper; the bleeding had stopped, but its maroon streaks had dried along her neck and matted a lock of her hair.
Nick put both hands behind Kaylin’s neck and cradled her head in his palms, gently brushing away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. His azure eyes burned looking down at her, angry at the mutilation of her beautiful features, and his own inability to have stopped it. There were hundreds of questions he wanted to ask her, but this wasn’t the time. Instead he moved to lay on his bed and without saying a word she lay beside him. Nick pressed his back against the wall and tucked Kaylin in beside him, her back to his chest, her head resting on his arm. He pulled her as close to him as possible and they wove their legs together. He loved her, more sure of it now than ever before.
It was then, when Kaylin felt finally safe wrapped in Nick’s arms, the heat from his body washing over her, that she allowed herself to process the events of that night. Everything happened so quickly that most of it didn’t have time to register. Her father who barely knew how old she was, whose affection she had tried her entire life to earn, had all but called her a whore. Her father’s words and actions tonight confirmed what she had for years been trying to suppress: he didn’t see her as a daughter; she was the caretaker of his father and a constant reminder of the woman who had become his wife.
Nick’s pull on her made her leave her thoughts and take in what was happening now. He was hugging her to him, and she was crying, her body shaking with sobs and her breath held from years of practice in knowing how to cry silently. Maybe she did love Nick, she was at her happiest with him near and his touch no matter how insignificant made her knees weak. It was a feeling she had never known before and didn’t easily recognize. They hadn't even been dating two months, and he had defended her against the brick wall that was her father. Maybe it was love. The exhaustion of the night's events, coupled with this new swirl of emotions was made Kaylin drift into sleep between catching her breaths and adjusting to the idea that she was loved.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Part Two: Chapter One
Winters in southern Ohio can be especially cruel and stricken; there are days when the air is too cold for the welcome snow that would shut down schools and businesses, allowing young children the opportunity to romp and play in the white powder. For a young Kaylin McSandsen, winters were especially brutal: she was left along most nights, and every scraping of a bare branch, every creak of the cold, empty house was a monster that filled the little girl's nightmares.
Kaylin Colleen McSandsen was the only child of Aaron McSandsen, a hardened man, born in Ireland and raised in Kentucky by his coal mining father. He had worked hard, and earned the respect of those around him. At twenty-one he met Colleen Mullins, within two months they were married; seven months later their daughter was born. Aaron was absorbed in his work and worried constantly about the opinions of those around him. He had high expectations of himself and of his new family, before it had even begun. His patience with his young bride wore thing within weeks of their marriage.
Aaron worked as the sift manager for the manufacturing company in a small town called Riversedge, located near mostly nothing in Ohio. He took on as many shifts and duties as he could' after work he was always asked to out for drinks with coworkers and eventually his bosses. He was a man's man: hard-working, fun to be around, and always dependable.
Collen was a frail, weak woman who waited constantly for the young and passionate Aaron she had fallen in love with to come home. Worried so about pleasing the man who had become her husband, Kaylin was left to herself most of the time whole Colleen fretted about, herself taking nips from a bottle she kept in her spice cabinet. Kaylin was tasked with helping Mommy clean the house: scrubbing baseboards and windows daily, toilet bowls washed with bleach after each flush, and her clothes were neatly folded before being placed in the hamper for washing.
Kaylin was only a few years old when she first remembered seeing her father hit her mother. She had woken up in the middle of the night to hear her father's loud singing downstairs, Collen was hushing him, and he was shoving her away. In that instant, all the days of trying to win his approval, all the nights of waiting for him to come home rushed through Colleen's veins and she threw a heavy glass platter at him. The shattering as it hit the floor was deafening, and Aaron attacked her like she was a man, breaking her jaw with one hard punch that laid her to the ground. His calloused hands were around her throat when he saw little Kaylin standing in the door, blood from her mother's mouth had sprayed on her frayed Care Bears nightgown. He released Colleen, wiped the spittle from his mouth and growled, "It's not even worth it. You aren't even worth my sweat."
Things changed after that. Every night Aaron didn't come home from his shift, Colleen went out too, giving Kaylin kisses and told to stay in bed no matter what. Sometimes Mommy came home first, stumbling in the door not always alone; sometimes Father came home first waking Kaylin up with a shake, asking where her mother was.
Her mother's death in a car accident when Kaylin was twelve ended that. Her father tried to mourn his wife, but the loss was inconsequential, they had lost each other years before her body was in the ground. Aaron's estranged relationship with his daughter prevented him from helping the young girl handle her bereavement, but neighbors and townspeople came to his aide: offering to stay with the girl while he worked, bringing food for their meals, and taking Kaylin to mass. Never wanting to be pitied, Aaron accepted the offering for the obligatory mourning time, and then assured everyone they would get along fine. Aaron realized he needed someone to watch over his daughter's comings and goings though, and to ensure their privacy and to maintain his routine of working and philandering, Aaron moved his ailing father into his house.
Exposed to too much war and coal dust, Francis McSandsen, was a gruff man who adored his granddaughter in his own, quiet way. He complimented her cooking, signed school papers; he bought a TV for her room and even paid for her own telephone line to her bedroom; she called him 'Seanathair' the Gaelic word for Grandfather that he had taught her long ago, and he called her his 'Kaylerie' an adaption of her name in the old brogue. But he was as distant as his son, and preferred to spend more time to himself and watching TV than paying much attention to his granddaughter.
Kaylin had learned early to smile and be happy no matter what, and to be the best little girl she could be and never upset anyone. She gave love and hugs to everyone in the school and the community, and she was known to a strong and diligent daughter to her widowed father and her sick grandfather. Kaylin was good at smiling and being good for it was in doing so that she got the occasional smile in return from her father, or that she earned praise from other adults in her vicinity. She never mourned her life: it was the only one she knew.
Kaylin Colleen McSandsen was the only child of Aaron McSandsen, a hardened man, born in Ireland and raised in Kentucky by his coal mining father. He had worked hard, and earned the respect of those around him. At twenty-one he met Colleen Mullins, within two months they were married; seven months later their daughter was born. Aaron was absorbed in his work and worried constantly about the opinions of those around him. He had high expectations of himself and of his new family, before it had even begun. His patience with his young bride wore thing within weeks of their marriage.
Aaron worked as the sift manager for the manufacturing company in a small town called Riversedge, located near mostly nothing in Ohio. He took on as many shifts and duties as he could' after work he was always asked to out for drinks with coworkers and eventually his bosses. He was a man's man: hard-working, fun to be around, and always dependable.
Collen was a frail, weak woman who waited constantly for the young and passionate Aaron she had fallen in love with to come home. Worried so about pleasing the man who had become her husband, Kaylin was left to herself most of the time whole Colleen fretted about, herself taking nips from a bottle she kept in her spice cabinet. Kaylin was tasked with helping Mommy clean the house: scrubbing baseboards and windows daily, toilet bowls washed with bleach after each flush, and her clothes were neatly folded before being placed in the hamper for washing.
Kaylin was only a few years old when she first remembered seeing her father hit her mother. She had woken up in the middle of the night to hear her father's loud singing downstairs, Collen was hushing him, and he was shoving her away. In that instant, all the days of trying to win his approval, all the nights of waiting for him to come home rushed through Colleen's veins and she threw a heavy glass platter at him. The shattering as it hit the floor was deafening, and Aaron attacked her like she was a man, breaking her jaw with one hard punch that laid her to the ground. His calloused hands were around her throat when he saw little Kaylin standing in the door, blood from her mother's mouth had sprayed on her frayed Care Bears nightgown. He released Colleen, wiped the spittle from his mouth and growled, "It's not even worth it. You aren't even worth my sweat."
Things changed after that. Every night Aaron didn't come home from his shift, Colleen went out too, giving Kaylin kisses and told to stay in bed no matter what. Sometimes Mommy came home first, stumbling in the door not always alone; sometimes Father came home first waking Kaylin up with a shake, asking where her mother was.
Her mother's death in a car accident when Kaylin was twelve ended that. Her father tried to mourn his wife, but the loss was inconsequential, they had lost each other years before her body was in the ground. Aaron's estranged relationship with his daughter prevented him from helping the young girl handle her bereavement, but neighbors and townspeople came to his aide: offering to stay with the girl while he worked, bringing food for their meals, and taking Kaylin to mass. Never wanting to be pitied, Aaron accepted the offering for the obligatory mourning time, and then assured everyone they would get along fine. Aaron realized he needed someone to watch over his daughter's comings and goings though, and to ensure their privacy and to maintain his routine of working and philandering, Aaron moved his ailing father into his house.
Exposed to too much war and coal dust, Francis McSandsen, was a gruff man who adored his granddaughter in his own, quiet way. He complimented her cooking, signed school papers; he bought a TV for her room and even paid for her own telephone line to her bedroom; she called him 'Seanathair' the Gaelic word for Grandfather that he had taught her long ago, and he called her his 'Kaylerie' an adaption of her name in the old brogue. But he was as distant as his son, and preferred to spend more time to himself and watching TV than paying much attention to his granddaughter.
Kaylin had learned early to smile and be happy no matter what, and to be the best little girl she could be and never upset anyone. She gave love and hugs to everyone in the school and the community, and she was known to a strong and diligent daughter to her widowed father and her sick grandfather. Kaylin was good at smiling and being good for it was in doing so that she got the occasional smile in return from her father, or that she earned praise from other adults in her vicinity. She never mourned her life: it was the only one she knew.
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