Toast

Ellie sat on the kitchen floor and wrangled her laces as I ate her toast crust
and use the tea towel to scrub at the dollop of strawberry jam on my chest.

"Can I have pikelets in my lunch?"

I popped some raisin bread in the toaster for Pat and ran the tap to soak the
morning's dishes.

"Can you follow me to the garage so I can drop the car off for service?" asked
Pat, swallowing back scalding tea as he stood at the end of the galley kitchen.

"How much d'you think that will cost?" That car was a money pit. Classic,
riiiggght.

"Shouldn't be more than two hundred."

"Can I?" piped Ellie.

"What? No, no. Maybe tomorrow. Come on, you don't want to be late. Where's your
brother? Michael! It's after 8!"

A fine tendril of smoke caught my eye as the raisin toast chose its moment to
shine. I dislodged its blackened form, cursing softly.

"Mummy, what's that noise?"

The click of the safety switch held a finality it had no business doing. My
brain took a few seconds to catch up. I slowly put the knife on the draining
board. Oh god, you stupid bitch. I didn't dare look at Pat. Oh god oh god.

He swooped up Ellie, setting her on her feet and calling for Michael at the same
time.

Oh god. I tried to remember how to create saliva.

"Nothing, darling", I could feel Pat's glance at me. "Off to school,
eh? Where's your bag? Mike, see her all the way to the gate, ok?"

I bent automatically for a kiss from Ellie, raised a hand to wave at Mike's back
as he trudged out the door in that way he had perfected.

The front door fell shut and I could tell Pat was leaning against it, just as I
was relying rather heavily on the bench top. How many times had I told the kids
not to do that very thing? I was the queen of bloody kiddie proofing, for god's
sake!

Pat reached past me and turned the tap off, then fished in the sink and chucked
the tea towel on the floor to sop up the water running over the lip of the
counter.

"I-"

My mouth snapped shut as he levelled a thick finger at me.

"You, young lady, are in trouble."

I didn't know if I wanted to run to Pat for a hug or away from him for my life,
but it didn't matter. He chose for me, blocking me in by the fridge and crushing
me to his chest. "You silly, silly girl", he growled into my hair. His chin dug
painfully into the top of my head but I dared not move. His arms tightened and I
knew I had scared him. Scared myself. I clung to him, still rather in shock that
a lesson learnt in my own childhood had vacated my mind so utterly.

I felt his fingers gathering the fabric to lift the back of my dress just a
heartbeat before his other hand cracked down hard across my backside. It seemed
to wake us both up, and I started to struggle as he rearranged his hug to hold
me close and continued to smack the backs of my thighs, my bum, anything he
could reach.

He never stopped hugging me. Even as I flinched and tucked my pelvis forward to
try avoid his hand and he swore he'd leather me if I ever, EVER, did something
so utterly and incomprehensibly daft again. I believed him. Finally his slaps
lost pace and we just clung to each other in a strange dance in that narrow
kitchen.

"You age a man, you know that?"

I could only nod as he pressed a kiss hard against my head and swayed on his
feet, rocking us both.