I am so excited to bring you more of my Aunt Jacy's story. Remember it is in first person because I wanted her to tell her own story.
Just like that...my Daddy slapped me! I was only trying to keep him from making the worse mistake of his life. Yes, I had stepped out of my place as a child, but I could not allow him to marry my Aunt Carol Lee. When I heard her proposing to him, I had to slam that door shut. There was no way that woman was going to become our stepmother. So here I stood holding my jaw and looking eye to eye with my drunk father. As I looked at him, I knew our relationship had changed. He had always been my hero, my defender, but now we stood locked in a battle of wills. I was not shocked that my Daddy was drunk, I was hurt that he put his hands on me. Him and mom had their fights because my Daddy was a weekend drunk but he had never hit any of us. He would go out and spend most of his check then come home and raise heck with my mom. My mom was no punk and she stood her ground.
I remember one time Daddy had stayed out until 3:00am in the morning and had lost his key. He pounded on the door so hard, I thought it would fall off the hinges. I heard the bed squeak as my mom sat up to put her house coat and shoes on. I saw her shadow as she went to answer the door. "Jimmy, why are you pounding on this door, the children are sleep." Then I heard it, the slap. "Woman, who do you think you are telling what to do?". "I am the man of this house, I pay the bills here". His words were slurred but I understood every word he said. All of a sudden, I heard a thump and then the door closed. My heart started beating so fast, that I could barely breathe as I laid in the bed with my brother and sister. Something had happened.
I seen a shadow against the wall and I held my breath. Did my Dad do something to my Mom? I heard the door being locked and I watched the shadow move down the hall. My Mom stopped and looked in on us and continued down the hall. The bed squeaked again as she got in it. I could hear the metal springs screech as she got comfortable. Where was my Daddy? I pushed the covers back and got out of the bed. I was careful not to wake my brother and sister. I walked to the only window in the room that, fortunate for me, had a view of the yard. When I looked outside the window, I gasped. My Daddy was knocked out cold on the stairs. Thank God the moon was bright that night. I could see his still form. Lying next to him was the brick that we kept by the front door. Mama had hit Daddy in the head with a brick. I wanted to go to him, but I feared what Mama would do to me. If she hit Daddy in the head with a brick, what would she hit me with. So I pulled up a chair and kept my eye on Daddy. Was he dead? How bad was he hurt? Oh, there were so many questions running through my head. After a hour, my Daddy started to stir. He sat up and rubbed his head looking around. Maybe Daddy had amnesia and he wouldn't remember that I was his daughter. I tapped on the window, but Daddy didn't hear me. Finally he got up, took one look at the door and started walking in the opposite direction. To this day, I don't know where my Daddy spent the night, but early the next morning, he showed up with flowers and a lump on his head.
Well, that was deep, but true. My Grandmother was no joke. She was tough. I wish I had the opportunity to meet her, but she died giving birth to my mom.
Thank you my readers for taking the time to read a little more about my family.-Ruby Girl