HIT ME

 
humanjaw.png

It was right after my son had been born. I was sitting with my father, upstairs in his bedroom, at my grandma’s house. He hadn’t spoken to me in over four years. We had recently reunited.

He seemed to have something very serious on his mind. He began to ask me questions about specific moments I could clearly recall from my childhood.

The first moment he asked me about was in Honolulu, Hawaii, when he asked me to hit him as hard as I could…

The story goes, I was 11 years young. My little sister and I were home alone with our father. My parents had been arguing and my mother had left the house. He was intoxicated to the point of being unreasonably angry. He was asking my little sister and I questions we had no understanding of. He demanded my little sister answer him. She was frightened and trembling. She went to call someone for help. He pulled the phone from her hands, ripped the phone from the wall, and threw it on the floor. “Don’t hurt her!” I yelled. He turned and faced me. “What are you going to do about it?! Hit me?” I took a step backwards. My mind calculating the best escape route.

The sun was going down. My little sister was behind him, on the floor, whimpering.

“I said…what are you going to do about it?! Hit me?” He moved closer to me. “I’ll tell you what little girl. You think you’re so tough. You think you’re going to protect your sister? I’ll give you one shot to hit me as hard as you can, but you better knock me out, because if you don’t, I’m going to knock the shit out of you. You’ll think twice about talking to me like that.” He was serious – drunk and serious. I already knew what it was like to be knocked in the head by him. 

He took another step closer. I didn’t move. I wasn’t going to allow him to make her cry anymore. He laughed, got down on his knees in front of me, and said, “Here, I’ll make it easier for you. I won’t even move. Hit me! Hit me right here…” he pointed to the left side of his jaw. “…Hit me as hard as you can, because when I get up, I’m going to knock you in the head; and if you don’t hit me, I’m still going to knock you in the head.”

My mind weighed the options. Either way, I was going to get “knocked in the head”, but at least it would take the attention off my little sister and he would leave her alone.

Weighing the severity of the situation at hand, without hesitation, I socked him as hard as I could. Upon impact I heard a crack. He looked at me stunned. His mouth flew open. He put his hands to his jaw. Everything went silent.

He stood up. He pointed at me. My heart started racing. Here it comes, I thought... I closed my eyes really tight.

Nothing.

I opened my eyes. The front door closed.

I waited for him to return.

(My little sister was safe, that’s all that mattered.)

I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

The next day came, no dad.

Another day passed, no dad.

Weeks passed by, no dad.

When he returned, it was the most sober and kindest I’d ever seen him. He played baseball with us; flew kites with us; made us his favorite meal…

He asked, “Did you ever notice that I never hit you again after you hit me?”

I replied, “Yes. I wondered about that.”  

“Little girl, with one punch you broke my jaw in several places!!! I’ve fought four Marines at once and had never been hit like that before. I saw stars. An ambulance had to take me to the hospital. They had to wire my jaw shut. I had to eat through a straw for over a month! You could have killed me! I saw it in your eyes. You scared the hell out of me.” The look on his face was very serious.

Many Blessings,

Mamakeeya

 
MamakeeyaComment