Sparrows Flight
I looked around me on the bus, it was late, just past 10:30 at night, but I felt alive for the first time in 3 years. There were 10 other people on the bus, and I wondered silently what their stories were.
Was the older couple two rows in front of me going to visit their grandchildren, or was the man in the suit across the aisle from me heading into the city for business? Were any of them curious about me? What stories were they making up for me? Could they see all of my broken pieces? I tried not to think about that, this was a new beginning. I was finally free of the toxicity and the anger.
I knew no matter what I encountered in Chicago it was better than the hell I just left. I thought they would put up more of a fight, and a small part of me even wished they had. That little girl who just wanted them to love her like before cried when they signed the papers effectively telling me I was no longer their responsibility, their problem. I reminded myself it was a good thing, if I stayed much longer, I didn’t even want to know what would have happened.
I thought back to this morning, waking up in my room, and staring at the lifeless walls and the spartan furnishing. Everything but the mattress and a dresser were removed when I was 13 and my life changed from a normal teenage daughter to whatever I was now.
My whole body still ached from the beating Greg gave me a couple of days ago. He said I had eaten the last of his peanut butter. We both knew it wasn’t true, but he liked the pretense of a reason for his abuse.
I’m not sure why I had been surprised, but I hadn't felt any different this morning, it wasn’t like turning 16 was some magical thing that manifested itself tangibly.
My shower had been brief, even though I had wanted to linger, but using too much of Greg’s water usually resulted in a lashing and I needed to be as physically prepared as possible for my plan to work. So, I took my usual three-minute cold shower. I dressed and packed a backpack with the essentials and a few of my notebooks, then dropped the backpack out my window for later.
I knew once I presented them with my emancipation paperwork, that if they agreed I would be expected to leave with nothing but the clothes on my back. I would expect nothing else from Greg.
When I came downstairs Greg and Mom were cuddled up on the couch watching some movie. It always amazed me that while Mom was the one who committed the crime, I was the one who was punished and she seemed content to allow it to happen.
I tried to bury my bitterness at seeing her snuggling with the man who beat me black and blue when the mood struck him and left my back a mass of scars from his belt when his fist or boots didn’t satisfy his need for revenge. Revenge for an affair that took place before I was even born.
Mom was the first one who saw me, and Greg looked up when he undoubtedly felt her stiffen. I didn’t leave my room very often, at least not in the last three years, usually only after they had gone to bed if I could help it.
Seeing me usually set off a chain reaction for Greg, he would slowly work himself up and then he would start in with the verbal attacks which would usually lead to a backhand or a knee to the stomach, whichever was easier for him.
I tensed then let out a slow breath hoping that they would let me go. I'd heard Greg when all this had started, he’d told my mom that they just needed to give me to the state, but mom had begged him to keep me, she didn’t want to let me go. Greg had agreed, but only a few days later I think both Mom and I regretted it.
She’d tried to stop him when it all started but she couldn’t do anything, well not, and keep her husband and her life in her nice house with her nice things where she didn’t have to work.
I steeled myself as I approached them with the paperwork in my hand that would start the process of emancipation. I needed them to be on board with it. Once I filed the paperwork there would be a hearing and they would need to tell the court that I was capable of taking care of myself and that they were in support of my emancipation. I was leaving this house today though either as a runaway or as a potentially emancipated minor.
“Mom, sir,” I said addressing my parents, I made no eye contact with Greg he would see it as disrespect and I just needed to get out of there. “I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment.” I heard a heavy sigh from Greg and a slight inhale from my mom. She was worried.
“We’re having family time Parasite, what do you want.” Parasite is what he started calling me when we found out I wasn’t his daughter, that my mom had had an affair, and decided to keep the fact that I wasn’t his to herself. He used to call me princess and dote on me, I tried not to remember those days, the contrast to the present just made it just that much more painful.
“I would like to start the process to become emancipated, you won’t need to do anything except show up for a hearing with a judge and tell them I can support myself. I have the papers here; you would just have to sign, and I can get the process started.” I kept my eyes down, hoping they would go for it.
“You have to be 16 to be emancipated Parasite, and what about school.” He sounded angry but also intrigued.
“I turn 16 today,” I was proud to have been able to keep the bitterness out of my voice, he’d trained me well on the tone I was to use with him and that was nothing but meek respect. “And I finished my high school degree two months ago.” I’d been homeschooled since the big revelation and breezed through my coursework since it was all I had to occupy my time with. I would have finished earlier but there had been some weeks I struggled more than others because of injuries he’d given me.
It was silent for a moment, I could only hear my mother’s heavy breathing like she was having a hard time either keeping in her fear or elation. I had to wonder if she thought she would become his punching bag next if I wasn’t there for his outlet anymore. Or maybe because I would no longer be there as a reminder they could get back to some semblance of normal.
They would still have Liam and with me gone they would feel better about having him visit back home. Liam had no clue that I wasn't his full sister, or that his dad had become a sadistic asshole. The only thing that had changed in his mind was me. I kept myself distanced from him when he visited and was usually “grounded” for some horrible thing or other.
Greg would lie and say I was caught doing drugs or stealing or something to account for why I was constantly banished to my room. I was the troll who lived under the castle. The stain on this perfect beautiful family.
It hurt that Liam so readily believed it, we were close when I was younger, he was 4 years older and had taken his responsibility as my big brother seriously. Protected me from bullies, he was even the one who taught me to ride a bike because Dad was usually at work. So yeah, his belief that I could do those things stung.
I tried to see it from his point of view, I had changed over the last 3 years, I’d become withdrawn and surly, and I didn’t answer his emails but what could I say when he asked how I was? “Great! I managed to avoid infection this time from the six new open lashes on my back. How’s football?” Also, my phone had been taken away, so as far as he was aware I stopped answering his texts and calls too.
After radio silence from me and avoidance when he was here because I would have gotten in trouble if I so much as cast suspicion on what was going on. How could I blame him for taking Greg at his word, he had no reason to doubt him.
I was startled from my reverie when Greg tsked loudly after so long remaining silent. “If we sign these papers and support this, then there will be some rules.” I almost rolled my eyes of course he would want stipulations. I remained silent waiting for him to continue.
“You are never to return here again, I don’t care what happens to you when you walk out that door, you are no longer going to leach off of me.” He sneered and he was working himself up but then took a breath.
“Also you are never to tell Liam anything about any of this, he doesn’t need to know about what a whore your mother has been,” my mother flinched at that, “he also doesn’t need to know about what a disgusting little parasite his little sister is. He’ll be the lucky one of all of us and live his life in blissful ignorance of how deceitful the women in his family are.”
I wanted to yell that I had never deceived anyone but I knew it would be a waste of breath and only earn me more scars so I bit my tongue and nodded.
“Yes sir,” I said feeling a mild sense of elation that I would never have to call this man sir again or feign respect for how pathetic he was in taking out his anger on a child. I know he thought he had broken me and somehow made me this wretched thing devoid of hope, but I would be whole in the end, and this was just the first step.
My mother excused herself and I set the paperwork out in front of Greg and showed him where to sign. Mom came back a moment later and she signed as well not even looking at me. I took the papers and placed them in a manila envelope.
I stood a little taller though I still avoided looking at them. “You should get a letter with the information on the hearing.” I nodded then turned and headed for the door, I didn’t say goodbye, and I didn’t look back, there was no point, it was just time for me to leave and start living again.
I was almost out the door when my mother's light touch on my elbow stopped me. She said nothing only put something in my hand then turned and walked back to the man who had been my world growing up and was now the monster in my nightmares.
I didn’t look at what she put in my hands until after I retrieved my backpack from the side of the house and made my way out of their neighborhood and to the nearest bus stop. It was only a few sentences, but they changed everything and whether she knew it or not she’d given me the best birthday present ever.
Your real father is Angelo Bianchi when I knew him, he owned a club in Chicago called Sparrows Perch, it’s where I got your name. If you go to him, he may help you.
My mother had always proclaimed she didn’t know who my father was, that when she and Greg had hit a rough patch in their marriage and separated, she’d had a one-night stand. She also claimed she honestly believed I was Greg’s daughter and was just as surprised as us when the paternity test he’d demanded proved otherwise.
I remembered hearing her broken sobs as she told Greg this. They thought I was asleep in my hospital bed. I’d almost died when my appendix burst, I’d lost too much blood and while my blood type wasn’t super rare there was a shortage.
They’d checked to see if either of my parents could donate and when neither matched the doctor had started asking if I was adopted or a stepchild for one of them. T
hat was the day Dad became Greg, the day that I fought for a life that no longer existed. When I woke up after surgery, it was to a new reality, one where my mom was a liar, my dad was a stranger, and I was a punching bag.
