“What, are you fucking
stupid?” he screamed as he ripped the tent pole out of the little
girl's hands. “Maybe I could ask a trained monkey to help? They'd
do a better job than you!”
Jessica pushed her thick,
plastic rimmed glassed up her nose. Her skin burned with
embarrassment and shame. Her throat felt thick, as her eyes teased
her with the possibility of tears. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't.
Not in front of him. If she did, there would be hell to pay.
“Are you listening to me,
you little idiot?” Spit flew from his dry lips and landed on the
canvas tent fabric.
“Yes, sir,” she
whispered. She didn't want him to hear her voice shake.
“I can't hear you!” he
belted back.
“Yes, sir,” she said
louder. “I am sorry. I will try to do better.”
“Of course you will.”
He threw her pole back to her. “Now, this time, try not to fuck it
up.”
She winced as he said it.
His words stung, but she knew he was just frustrated. He always got
like this when he was frustrated. It wasn't his fault. She just
needed to do better.
So this time, when her
father yelled for everyone to hold the poles tight, she closed her
eyes and held on as hard as she could. She refused to let go, even
when she could feel it slightly slipping between her hands, giving
her burns on her palms. Just a little bit longer, she thought to
herself. When she felt she couldn't bear it anymore, she started
chanting in her head. One a penny, two a penny, three a penny,
more. Four a penny, five a penny, that's a nickel more. Six a
penny, seven a penny, eight a penny, more. Nine a penny, ten a
penny, that's a dime for the store.
“All
right guys, good job. All done,” her father exclaimed as the
pressure released from her hands.
The
tent was up finally. Jessica sucked in a deep breath. She could
relax.
“See,
now that wasn't too hard was it now?” her father joyfully asked his
family.
Her
mother turned away and went to the car to get the bedding. Her
sister sulked over to the picnic table and took up her book. Her
brother just sneered and stomped off into the woods to gather sticks
for a fire.
“Oh
c'mon guys, it wasn't that bad, was it?” her father laughed as he
gathered up the bag the tent was wrapped in.
Jessica
smiled at him. “No, daddy. It's okay.”
He
reached down and ruffled her chin-length hair. “That's right,
pumpkin. Now we can get down to business! Now, where's your brother
with those sticks?”
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