Silence Protect Me

Five minutes into dinner was all it took for my mother to make the first attack.

Five minutes. A new record, even for my family. Hardly any of us had even managed to sample the food placed before us. None of us had taken a sip of our hastily poured drinks. The really little ones hadn’t even made a mess of themselves before her nasty comment! It really was amazing. My mother is not the nicest person in the world, far from it. She is as shallow as a children’s wading pool, her world consisting of platinum credit cards and surgeon’s knives. But, this was extreme, even for her.

“I trust this tour you managed to keep your dick inside your pants, Frank. Or will someone else be ringing us up about footing the bill for a fucking abortion?”

Every single adult at the table froze, forks hovering in the strange twilight zone between a plate and the accepting mouth. Their eyes stared glassily; brains struggling to process if the startling statement she had come out with were real or a figment of nervous imaginations. Beside me, I heard Billie take a sharp intake of breath, the air catching on his slack jaw. I could see out of the corner of my eyes that he was looking somewhat panicked at my Dad. At the far end of the table, Dad’s teeth were set in stone grit, his eyes hardened and turned to the mahogany table. On the other side of me, Deedee was chewing anxiously on her lip, tapping her recently picked up fork in a quiet rhythm on the wood. I won’t insult her intelligence- she probably knows exactly what our sniper mother had just shot out between her collagen-pumped lips, every single last disgusting word ingraining on her impressionable brain. She pretended not be at the table, invisible to all but me. She’s a smart girl. I wish I still knew the art of being completely invisible.

“Great food, Mike,” Billie suddenly said loudly, engaging his friend in an urgent gaze. Their eyes met, ocean blue to grassy green, immediately agreeing to join forces.
“Did you use any new herbs in the sauce?”

“Well,” Mike began, one of his eyes scanning down the table at our nervous faces. “I used some basil, a bit of-“

“Oh piss off, you two! I asked the man a question- surely he has the balls to answer one fucking question,” my mother exclaimed, using her knife as a dangerous pointer. Her and Dad were sitting at opposite ends of the table, as far away from each other as the many guests could provide. Dad was wedged between Adie (Billie’s beloved wife) and Elise, near where Beth had hidden herself and her shocking snowdrift hair. My mother was nearer to Mike and Joey (one of Billie’s sons). It didn’t make any difference. Voices can carry long distances, plus they were very able to shoot deadly glares.

“Not in front of the kids, Teresa,” Dad warned quietly, shocking everyone with his low, angry tone. It was like that of a serial killer, an edge of madness under the quiet, calm vocals. The sound sent a wrenching shudder down my young spine, throwing my shoulders into a quick spasm. Shit, I cursed in my head, sensing all the attention drawing together in a wave and crashing down on my sudden movement. My mother laughed bitterly, louder then her usual tinkering clatter of a giggle. I didn’t need to smell the rancid acid rot on her breath to see she was drunk.

“See? Ivy knows. He can see the disgusting, filthy pervert you really are, Frank. Disgusting, filthy, little f-“

“Leave Ivy out of this,” Dad growled menacingly, his presence wrapping around me in a protective cocoon, even though his tensed body was still sitting at the other end of the table. “He has nothing to do with anything. Leave him alone.”

Under the table, my hands held my knees in a pinching grip, the pain alone keeping me from bolting out of the sharpened atmosphere. I was very aware of the thudding crescendo in my chest, thinking crazily that everyone else could hear my truthful heart in my blank body. I forced strict control around my lungs, frightened of losing control of my breath. My muscles contracted and expanded as I concentrated, hopefully sounding regular and even to everyone else.

I mustn’t have been convincing. My mother latched onto me like a poisonous parasite, seeking to immobilize and destroy me with a few well-aimed nips.

“Well, I’m sure little Ivy boy can speak for himself. Go on, Ivy, speak up and show your Daddy. Protect your own weak hide, you little mute. What’s the matter? Someone slice out your little tongue?”

My undamaged tongue lay stationary in my suddenly dry mouth, afraid to make a move. It pressed up against the back of my cold teeth, the slimy mass too big for the dank unused cave of my mouth. I was sure if I dared to move it, it would suddenly slither down my throat, choking me to death with its suffocating weight. Or worse, it would launch itself out of my mouth, spearing itself on my mother’s knife with one calculated leap. No way was I going to respond and speak, not if I could help it. Anything I say can and will be used against me, I’m sure of that.

Silence protects me. That is why I am silence’s humble servant.

But silence failed to protect me this time. My quiet aggravated my mother even more, a mosquito buzzing around the mouth of a bull. Her dull hazel eyes sharpened and bored into my skull; I could feel them, even with my head bowed down to almost kiss my plate. Beside me, I saw Billie’s body poised and alert, his legs tensed under the tight denim material. On the other side, Deedee’s small hand shook by her side, fingers flexing crazily. She was so close I could hear her small scared breaths.

Billie’s stance fascinated me more, though. I could see the muscles in his arm, tight and taut, stretching his carefully inked skin art and making the extreme detail undeniable. His chest was filled with the air of an imprisoned gasp, solid and strong under his plain shirt. I realised he was watching me watching him and turned my eyes back to my plate, focusing my view on the carefully set meal below my hawk nose.

Even the food seemed to be quaking with fear.

“Ivy? You little wimp- say something for yourself! The adults aren’t always going to be there to talk for you! Ivy? Why don’t you say anything? Come on; stop hiding under your hair like a fucking emo kid and talk to your Mom! Talk to me, Ivy!” My mother berated, leaning across the table and grabbing my arm in a bony shackle. I didn’t move except to stare deeper into my plate, looking for some kind of answer to this mysterious outburst. Why target me? Why target the one with nothing to say to your argument? I am blank. I am a piece of unused paper. Leave me be. I have no information for you to argue with.

I guess it was too late to say that. Someone had managed to scribble on me. And my mother held me responsible to whatever the scribble meant.

Billie’s hand suddenly shot out from under the table, yanking my arm out of my mother’s digging nails. I let my arm fall limply back under the table, trying not to look at my saviour.

“Teresa, Ivy has nothing to do with this-“ Billie began, his own arm falling under the table. I held my breath as his hand protectively circled my arm, his firm grip radiating support and safety. He was trying to calm me, I realise now; making sure he could pull me out of harm’s way if it came to it. I’m grateful to him for that. My mother frightened me more then anything in the world at the moment.

“Shut up, you stupid half-fag or whatever you are. Go find something to shove in yourself. This has nothing to do with you. I’m talking to my Ivy boy, aren’t I, Ivy?”

Beside me, I heard Billie make a strangled noise, letting go of my arm. His eyes burned like hell-fire as he looked down the table at my mother, his mouth thinned with sudden seething hatred. Down the other end of the table, Adie sighed and put her head in her hands, covering her kindly brown eyes. Joey and Jacob pretended not to hear, like Deedee ignoring the obvious meaning of my mother’s spite. I hate her. She purposely tries to destroy, to maim other families so they sit in our mould. She doesn’t want to be the only one with a terrible home life. Everyone else must suffer too.

“I’m getting impatient, Ivy,” My mother suddenly hissed, standing up from her seat and glaring down at me like an unforgiving figurehead. “Answer me. Show some spine. Don’t be like your stupid father.”

I don’t know what she meant by that. I am nothing like my father. He’s braver then I. Why say something like that about two people who could not be compared? I try to puzzle this out, but I just end up with a circle-induced headache. There is no way I could be like my father. I don’t have that kind of blind faith in my actions.

“Ivy? TALK TO ME, YOU LITTLE WORM!”

That scream should have been my cue to run. Run and hide, protect myself with the comfort of a fort of pillows and shield of cotton sheets. She was inebriated and dangerous. I should’ve dived away, not stay still like a complete statue. The world slowed down after that scream. I can only remember suddenly seeing everyone’s eyes, ocean blue, ice blue, field green, yellowed hazel and chocolate brown, flashing before my face as heads turned towards my mother’s blurring figure. Billie’s hand gripped my arm tighter, getting ready to reel me in away from my livid mother. He knows what to expect when my mother is drunk.
Unfortunately, his reactions were too slow. So were mine. I didn’t see her hand looming up towards my face until I felt the sting of her nails in my skin.

Her hand clashed with my face like a formidable tsunami on an island, snapping my head back with unimaginable brute force. Her alcohol had unlocked her secret hold of angered strength, the brunt of it intent on slapping some words out of my mouth. Her acrylic nails, strengthened by her oblivious manicurist, carved into my cheek, leaving puncture marks like the stinging bite of a rattlesnake. I didn’t cry out even though the pure animal power knocked me from my very chair, my wrist snapping like a rope in Billie’s strong grip. For a moment I dangled dazedly in the air, in that fabled space between the action and the immediate consequence. It felt like I had time to survey the room- to see the shocked faces, my Dad, Mike, Beth, Adie and Elise halfway between leaping out of their seats. Deedee was reaching for me, looking like a normal child with fright in her eyes.

Then I finally crashed on the floor, pain flooding the side of my face and wracking my brain. My eyes were pressed into the wooden floor, the tip of my nose bent at an awkward angle so that I could submerge my face in the ground. Stars flashed in the dimness of my half-closed eyes, little purple fire dancers jumping around my vision. My tongue lolled in my mouth, no noise of pain coming out of my carefully monitored voice box. Above where I lay, I could hear the sounds of chaos- wild screams, shouting, the cries of little Tyler and Frankie, still imprisoned in their seats. I could only imagine what was happening. No, I couldn’t even do that. It was beyond my aching brain.

I was almost thinking everyone had forgotten me by the time someone came to see to me. I felt someone’s strong arms pull at my shoulders, gently lifting me back from the floor. Chatter reached my ears, fingers waving in front of my eyes. The voices didn’t match up to what I could see. I couldn’t see much anyway, so that’s nothing really to comment on. I let myself flop against a sturdy chest, eyelids fluttering at the light like bewitched butterflies. The owner of the chest said something soothing in my ear, coaxing me to try and get up. When I wouldn’t they sighed, picking me up under my arms. They dragged me out of the room, taking care not to jolt me too much. I guess it wasn’t really a drag, more of a sort of rushed carrying. Someone else’s hands reached for my feet, lifting up my legs to ease my travelling. The twin pairs of arms swung me up, and suddenly I was no longer dangling limply in the air, but supported by over-stuffed cushions.

At that moment, it felt very surreal.

It took a couple of minutes for my head to stop careening around the planet, dancing carefree among the stars with reckless abandon. It gradually fell down from the sky, before freefalling back to my body with surprising force. My eyes shot fully open, watering from the throbbing ache brought back to my system. I heard myself breathe sharply as my eyes darted. I was in the living room, propped up like a doll on a puffy sofa. I could vaguely see a person sitting on the floor beside me, holding what looked like a glass of water. The person, sensing I was looking, turned their head. I couldn’t recognise their features- my head was still too unsteady. But I could just recognise the voice.

“Easy there, Ivy. You took a huge hit to the head,” Billie said gently, like a zookeeper trying to calm a stuck animal. I ignored his warning, wriggling my head around to see who else was in the room. Big mistake. A crescendo of almost unbearable pain rocketed through my skull, knocking me back down onto the pillows.

“Ah!” I gasped, loosing control of my voice. Billie laughed quietly.

“I warned you. That’s what you get for ignoring me, eh?”

I nodded weakly. Billie laughed again.

“I think you’d better exercise your vocal chords and not your head, Ivy. It’ll be a lot less painful.”

“What happened?” I whispered, wanting to make sure I hadn’t imagined the whole scenario out of fear. Billie’s expression closed, his lips thinned again in that hateful grimace.

“She floored you. Right out of nowhere. And don’t worry; she’s up in her room. Your Dad bustled her out of there the moment you fell.”

So that was the cause of the screaming and the yelling. Dad had used her anger as an excuse to get out of the room of staring patrons. It hurts slightly to think he dealt with her first instead of aiding me straight away. Or was he making sure she wouldn’t do anything else? This thinking only made my head worse. I furrowed my eyes shut, biting down on my lip as a makeshift painkiller.

“Ivy, if it hurts that much, I’d better give you a quick check-over. You know, just to make sure it’s nothing hospital-worthy… Can you open your eyes, or is it too painful?”

I forced my eyes open, imagining tiny sticks keeping them from shutting again. Billie nodded gratefully, putting a hand on the side of my face. I felt his cool hand stretch my eyelids, making it easier for him to examine my eyes. His own eyes loomed closer, concentrating on my pupil and iris. I held my breath as he examined both, his other hand prodding at the forgotten punctures in my cheek. Finally he made a thoughtful noise, taking his hands away from my face. I stared up at him, willing him to tell me his verdict.

“Nothing looks weird or anything,” he said finally, cocking his head to one side. “But I’m not exactly a doctor. I should really take you to a proper medical authority-“

Despite the pain, I shook my head adamantly. There was no way I was going to a hospital. People would ask questions, maybe even take pictures. By tomorrow, my battered face could be plastered all over the Internet as a sick headline. No. Best to keep silent.

Silence protects the public from my family’s woeful position.

Billie sighed uncomfortably. He probably would have felt better to have me properly checked up. Most adults would.

“It’s your head, I guess. Want me to help you up to your room, or would you like to attempt it yourself? You can stay down here if you want. Your Dad will be down in a minute to see you. I sent Beth home. Adie and Elise are driving her there, and then they’ll go home themselves with the kids. Deedee and Tyler are already in bed. They didn’t feel like staying up tonight. Can’t really blame them. So, it’s just Mike and me still here. You could watch TV down here with us, if it doesn’t make your head worse-“

Before he could finish his one-sided conversation, I had stood wobbly, clutching at the sofa beside me like a safety raft. I felt like a toddler taking its first steps. Except, a toddler’s head wouldn’t hurt this much, if they had good parents. My feet felt completely disconnected from my body, like someone else was controlling them. I let go of the sofa, wavering dangerous as I took my first step. Billie’s arms suddenly shot out, steadying me.

“Come on. I’ll take you up.”

We travelled silently, focused on reaching our destination without an accident. My head had begun to float again, which made it all the more difficult. I kept trying to take the wrong turn, my disorientated mind insisting it was right. Billie didn’t mind. He’s well practised at steering people, I guess, having to hang out with my Dad and all. When we got to the stairs he even asked if I wanted him to carry me up, but I’m sure he was joking, even though the stairs proved difficult to navigate. I managed to ascend them, though, stumbling through the dark corridor past my family’s rooms and finally collapsing on my own neatly made bed.

“You alright like that, Ivy?” Billie asked from the doorway, his hand poised on the doorknob. I raised my hand shakily in a weak thumbs up, trying to reassure him I was fine. Billie nodded uncertainly.

“Well… Stop by tomorrow, okay? If you feel better and everything. I’m sure Adie wouldn’t mind having someone over for lunch. Bring Beth if you want. Just- I want to make sure you’re completely fine, Ivy. Like I said before, you got hit hard.”

He made to close the door, but stopped suddenly, turning around. His eyes flashed in the dimness as he did, resting on my crumpled figure.

“And if you ever feel everything’s too much- or just want to talk or anything- we’re here, okay?”

He closed the door after that odd piece of advice, leaving me to lapse into a pain-free slumber.

Billie cares too much. That’s his only true fault.