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| Read the first 10 pages of Chapter 1 of Losing Innocence |
| Visit Brian R. Smith's website: www.brianrsmith.net |
| Losing Innocence by Brian R. Smith CHAPTER ONE "Every part of our personality that we do not love will become hostile to us." - Robert Bly "It's not that I don't have a conscience, it's just why should I feel guilty for my present crimes, when my past ones are so much worse?" - Sanja Singh p.10 ------------------ p.11 He hadn't seen the hand that took hold of the back of his head, slamming him face first into the door. But he didn't need to. He knew whose hand it was. It felt like the blood that had been thundering through his body was now gushing out through his ears, but he was stunned.....confused. The blood was streaming down his face from his nose, as his head was rammed against the wood panel once more. "How the hell can you be that stupid? Christ, you are the saddest excuse for a son that any man ever had!" His father was gripping the neck of his shirt at the back, holding him half suspended as he opened the door with his other hand, and threw Lance inside the hall. He fell over the doorsill and into the coat rack, crashing to the floor in a tangle of coats and sweaters. When his vision cleared, he saw his mother standing over him, her arms crossed and glaring coldly. "You're getting blood on the carpet." Lance turned his face to the floor again, and let it rest on the scrubbed wooden strips. * When he lifted his head, it was not worn strips of flooring under his face. It was his own front door. The ranch house where he lived was ---------------- p.12 tucked further back off the street than the rest of the houses on the block. All that kept it from being lost in the darkness, was the porch light casting a glare down on him. Lance fumbled his key in the lock and with exaggerated care, slid through the barely opened door, then spoiled the whole attempt at secrecy by falling backwards and slamming it into the frame with a bang that shook the walls. "You have to stop this, Dad." A figure detached itself from the shadows in the hallway and moved towards him, pale face suspended in the darkness above a Mickey Mouse nightshirt. Lance threw an arm sideways to regain his balance, and became entangled in the coat hanging from a hook to the right of the door. At least it kept him upright. "You scared the living crap outta me. What are you doing up?" Arms folded in front of her, Tori eyed him from head to foot. "Waiting for you." "I'm fine. Perfectly fine," he enunciated carefully. "I went, I drank, I got the crap beat out of me. It was a reg- regular Friday night and all is right with the world." Damn, beer was gassy. "You're a mess," she replied coldly. "Yep, that would be me. I oughta be good at it by now, doncha think?" Lance hiccupped again. "I can't keep taking care of you. I've been doing it since I was twelve years old and you have to stop coming home like this, because I can't do it forever!" If the frustration in her voice didn't hit home, the words did. His daughter was mothering him, and had been since he'd thrown her mother out four years ago. "I know what I'm doing, Tori." Lance winced as if he?d been slugged another one in the gut. Only it would have been easier if she had hit him. Instead, he'd hit himself over and over and over, with what he'd done....his daughter had no mother to speak of, and it was his fault. "Yeah, right. You know what you're doing, and you've been doing a lot of it, lately." "There's nothing wrong. I just need to get some sleep." He pushed away from the wall, and stood there, swaying. "See you in the morning, sweetheart." ------------------------ p.13 Her hands twisted at the hem of her nightshirt. Even in the dark he could see her worrying it. "You have to move on. Stop doing this to yourself." "I have moved on, and I didn't do this to myself. Some nice gentleman with an anchor tattooed on his fist, did it. I got a close up view of the anchor." He stared at her owlishly. When did she turn into twins? "We're going to talk about this tomorrow when you've sobered up," she warned, turning to go. "No, we're not! " He hollered at her retreating back. When she disappeared into the darkness, he shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Oh, fine. Guess that means we will." Lance stumbled though the shadowed hallway to the master bedroom and along the wall to the bathroom. He turned the cold water on and hung his head over the sink, splashing it repeatedly to rinse off the caked blood around his mouth, and wincing as he touched a swollen cheek. So this is all Tori has.....some father you are, he glared blearily at the mirror. I'm supposed to take care of her, not the other way around. Protect her....that's what fathers do. But who protects her from me? How can I keep it together for her, when I can't keep myself together? He toweled off his face and wandered back into the bedroom where he flopped on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Move on. People were always telling him it's time to move on. Like the last eighteen years never happened. Well, they did and they sucked. Big time. Eighteen years...I tried to get her straight. Even moved and changed jobs to get her away from the crowd she ran with. I tried. But it wasn't enough. She was screwing only God knows how many guys, the whole time we were married. Everyone knew but me. Why couldn't I have done better? Why wasn't I enough? Why wasn't being a mother, enough? Now all Tori has is me, and I'm a real prize, aren't I? Lance fell into a deep sleep, pursued by his face in the mirror, overlaid by the image of Tori's mother. * ----------------------------- p.14 Showered, and wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt that hadn't been torn in a fight, he entered the kitchen and screwed his eyes up against the bright sunlight. "Morning, baby." "Morning, Dad. You want some eggs?" Tori stood with her back to him, slender like her mother was, long chestnut hair flowing loose down her back and over the baggy sweatshirt. "Ugh. No thanks. I'll just have some Advil for an appetizer and maybe chase them down with coffee." "Did you get any sleep?" Her hands continued to rub at the plate in the dishpan. "Enough, I guess." He wondered if she knew how often he cried himself to sleep. No, she couldn't. How would she? "Do you remember coming home?" Tori dropped the dish in the drain rack and picked up a towel. "Yeah, 'course I do. Just pointed all two hundred horses in that Ford Explorer at the toll way, and said 'home, boys', and they dropped me right in the driveway." Lance's attempt to grin ended in a grimace of pain as a split lip opened up again. Tori swung around from the kitchen sink and leaned back against the cupboard, her arms folded. "Why do you go out drinking, so much? You never used to." Lance stared down into his coffee, black like his thoughts. How do you tell your kid you wish you were dead? Or that you purposely courted physical pain that would block out the pain of betrayal? "I don't know." "You've been doing it since you kicked Mom out." She had noticed. But then, he hadn't tried to hide it, either. Just like he hadn't tried to hide how he gave her mother a choice between drugs, lies and cheating, and their home and daughter. "Yeah, I know." "It's not like it's your fault." She flicked the dishtowel up and down at her side. Something was on her mind, and she was going to spit it out no matter what he said. I don't really know what I did, he brooded with his head down. But it drove her away. It made her choose booze and drugs over me and her baby. Who else's fault could it be? I go out and get the shit kicked out of me, because I can't do it myself, and I deserve it. ---------------------------------- p.15 "I don't need a babysitter, Tori." "No, more like a keeper. Someone with a leash and choke collar to keep you in line." Lance's face darkened. "Do I butt into your business?" "No." She bent her head to examine some non-existent lint on her shirt. "Then why are you butting into mine?" He reasoned. Tori's dark brown eyes fastened onto his. "You'd butt in if I was hurting myself. You know you would." Lance's eyes dropped first. She was right. He didn't interfere in her personal life. But if she was making the ass of herself that he was, he'd be on her case in a flash. "Okay," he sighed. "Just what is it you want me to do?" "You need to move on." Again, with the moving on! Lance ran a hand over his head and down the back, rubbing his neck where the ache had settled from last night's beer. "Move on to what?" Tori unfolded her arms and made a precise job of folding the tea towel instead, lining up the ends, smoothing down each section. "You need to start dating again. Find someone to care about, and someone to care about you, besides me." "I date." She rolled her eyes and groaned. "A date. Not a stripper from the clubs. You think I want a stepmother named Chesty Warzinski, who has the biggest----" "Watch your mouth, young lady!" He warned over the rim of his coffee cup. The cat was out of the bag, apparently. How did she know about the strippers? They were the perfect date--- young and not afraid of showing their assets. They don't care about you, and you don't have to care about them. A night and they're gone. "Look Tori," he set the mug down. It was cold, damn it. And tasted like crap. Or maybe that was his mouth. "When you been through the 'love grind' once, and been chewed up and spit out, you're not real eager to have someone tear your heart into even smaller pieces. I don't want someone who "cares", because I don't care." -------------------------------- p.16 Tori threw her arms out. "What? I care about you. Don't you want me to care? Don't you care about me?" "For Christ's sake Tori, that's different and you know it. You're my blood....you're family and I love you. And you know it." "Then prove it," she challenged, throwing the folded dishtowel at his chest. "By doing what?" Lance caught the towel in his hand, gripping it tightly as he remembered the night he'd almost killed himself, and the only thing that had stopped him was Tori. Hadn't that been proof enough?" "Let me find you a date." "Are you crazy?" He bellowed, choking so hard on the surprise he gulped down the cold coffee without thinking. Tori spread her hands and glanced down at the purple frosted nails, then peeked up from behind the curtain of hair swinging across her face. "If you love me, Dad, you'll do this. Just once. That's all I ask." Blackmail! And she was good at it, too. She'd been doing that eye peep thing since she was old enough to know it would get to the old man. "If I agree--" "Great! I'll just--" "Now hold on just a minute, here." He pointed a finger at her. "I'm not dating some big-beaked, buck-toothed home ec teacher, or one of your friends' mothers. Don't go trotting out any Miss Mommy Homemaker, either." Lance watched her wide-eyed look of innocence, and narrowed his own eyes in return. "So....how are you going to find me a date?" "The Internet." She shrugged, as if it was something he should know. "The Internet." Lance stared at her dumbly. Where does she get these ideas? I'll end up dating some hairy wonder that needs their thumbs shaved. "I'm not dating no dude that's had a sex change." "Oh Daddddddd...." The eternal cry of a teenager made his lips twitch. "You'll be able to see a picture. Luke's Mom met a guy off the Internet, and she really likes him." "Good for Luke's Mom," he raised his cup in congratulations as he carried it to the sink and dumped it out. "But I aint' Luke's Mom. I don't --------------------------------- p.17 want to date Luke's Mom. I don't want to date Luke's Mom's boyfriend." He rinsed out the cup then leaned over her. "Thanks, but the whole idea is nuts!" "So, I guess you don't love me then." Okay, she's doing the peep thing again. Oh God, now she's adding the pout. "I love you," he said firmly. "But you're crazy." "Just try it," she wheedled, bouncing up and down on tiptoes. "If it doesn't work out, then at least you tried. Please? Just once. For me?" Her eyelashes fluttered. Lance sighed and looked down at the bland innocence. She sure knew how to put the screws to a guy. "Alright. One date. I'll agree to one date." "Thanks, Dad." Tori skipped towards the hallway. "You won't regret it, I promise. I'll get started on it right away." "Oh, I'm sure I will," he grumbled, as he watched her go. But if it makes her happy, I'll go on one date. Besides, she would have kept at him till he agreed, anyway. "Hey, I wanna see a picture before you set anything up." "You'll see a picture," her voice floated back from the living room. "Yeah, well..." Lance poured a fresh cup of coffee from the machine on the cupboard, "let me know when you get around to it." "We're doing it now." "Aw, Tori. For Pete's sake, I just want to sit and have a cup of hot coffee.' He carried his mug through to the living room and set it down on a table, picking up the newspaper as he threw himself on the couch. "Drink your coffee, then. I'll do everything. But you just sit there, because we're doing this now before you can back out." Her fingers played busily over the keys, and pages flashed by on the monitor. Lance grunted and shook the paper open, then paused. "And just how do you know about dates off the Internet at your age?" It hadn't occurred to him when she was roping him into this. Maybe he should have been checking out her friends more closely. "I am sixteen, remember?" Tori slid down a little in her chair, face wary. Then she straightened up again. "Besides, all Luke's friends know about his Mom's date, and this is the same site she used." ----------------------- p.18 "Mmph." Lance snorted in disbelief, and started looking for yesterday's sports scores. Maybe he should be butting into her business more. "Here you go. How about this one? She's pretty." "Pretty isn't everything," he turned a page. The strippers he dated were pretty. Hell, lots of women that would eat you alive, were pretty. "Get off the couch and look. You can't see from there." "Yes, I can,"he replied, staring resolutely at the paper. Tori marched over and grabbed the paper out of his hands. "At least come and look at her profile." "Why, has she got a hooked nose, like your home ec teacher?" Lance grinned at the dirty look she threw him. "Okay, so what's her profile say? She plays for the Washington Redskins? Six foot something of lean, mean linebacker?" Withering him with a glance, she threw down the paper and returned to the computer. Lance groaned as he got up and trailed after her. "Look, see. She's pretty." "Yep," he agreed. "She is. Likely stole the picture. And it don't say anything about what her plans are, like money, marriage, a baby, a house and all that other mommy homemaker stuff that I don't want any part of." Tori scrolled down the screen. "She likes motorcycle rides. And she likes the heat and not the cold, just like you. Got kids, too." "Huh. One of these dumb as a rock, blondes. She could be a scam artist, a stalker, or just a fruitcake." "So could you. But you're not. Just give it a chance. She lives over in DeKalb, so if you don't like her, you won't have to worry about running into her." Lance jumped on the last bit of information like it was a life preserver and he was drowning. "But that's too far away to drive all the time. Must be two hours at least." "But email takes only seconds," she said smugly. I just sent her one from you, and gave her our phone number. And I attached your picture." He stared at the back of her head. "Are you out of your mind? You have no idea what kind of crazy person this is, and you give out our personal information?" ------------------------------- p.19 With a click Tori checked the email inbox. "Chill out, Dad. Deal with it when she calls. You can just talk to her, right? No sweat. Remember, you said you'd do it for me." It was his own fault. He'd spoiled her since she was born. Her mother never did, so someone had to. And nobody would treasure her like he did, once she was out on her own. Lance gave in, grudgingly. "Well, we'll see if she calls. I'm going back to the couch and my coffee, if that's okay with the Mighty Matchmaker. Don't let me sleep all afternoon. I'll just have a little nap to get rid of this headache." "That's what you get for drinking all night," Tori smiled sweetly, her eyes still on the screen. * Freakin' phone. Lance heard the ring through the fuzz of sleep in his brain, liberally mixed with last night's beer. Hell, Tori's home. She'll answer it. Another ring, he wondered if her bedroom door was shut so she wouldn't have to answer it. Third ring. Dammit, nobody's home. Aw crap, she did hear it. That's her running for the handset in the kitchen. Must be the first time anyone's ever prayed to hear from a telemarketer. He lay on the couch in defeat, hand draped over the side, listening to his daughter answer, and ask politely who was calling. "It's for you." The phone was waiting in front of his eyes when he opened them. His eyes closed again and he pulled a pillow over his head. "Who is it?" Was muffled by the material. "Mia. Her name is Mia. Your date?" Tori's foot tapped impatiently. "I'm sick." "No, you're not." "I'm asleep, then." "Nice try. Now, take it." She took his hand and slapped the phone into it. Lance could feel the blood in his head, pounding. He flicked the talk button. "Hello Mia, this is Lance." Her voice came over the line, light and almost musical. Well, well, she didn't sound like someone's brother, anyway. "No, actually I was just taking a nap."Lance stuffed --------------------------------------------- p.20 the pillow behind his head again and listened. "No, that was my daughter. No wife, no girlfriend. Just a sixteen-year old smarty pants. How about you?" Tori's hair brushed his head as she leaned over the couch. "Just hold on a minute, okay? "You can go now. Mission accomplished. I can handle it from here." Phone clutched to his chest, he glared up into the sparkling brown eyes. "No, you can't."Tori plunked herself down on the coffee table. "Get on with it, you don't have all day." Lance flicked the 'hold' button off, savagely. He hated chitchat. What's your favorite color? What's your sign? Got a boyfriend? You want what? Ask me if I care, because I don't. They hadn't got into that crap yet, and he didn't want to. "You were saying, Mia? Two boys? That has to be a challenge." His eyes fell on Tori, leaning so far forward with elbows on her knees, she was about ready to fall over. "Tonight? I don't know." "You're not doing anything tonight," Tori piped up, shoving hair behind both ears and clasping her hands. She was practically making the date for him. Well, tough cookies. He had some serious drinking planned for tonight. "Mia, I really think--" "Dad?" "Excuse me again, Mia." He slammed the phone into his chest and snarled "What now?" "It isn't going to kill you to get together just once. Don't blow her off to go drinking." Lance gave her the evil eye again before putting the phone back to his ear. "Yes, DeKalb is fine. I'll meet you there." No way was he going to tell the mystery woman where he lived. Not for one date. That's all it was going to be, and she was only getting that so he could shut Tori up. "Eduardo's restaurant? Yes, I've heard of it. Have you got an address? That's okay. I can figure it out. Seven o'clock is fine. If something comes up, I'll call. Yup, see you there. Bye." He flicked the phone off and tossed it on the coffee table. "There, you happy now?' "You're really going out with her? What are you going to wear?" Tori bounced up and down on the coffee table. Good thing it was solid oak. -------------------- Tori bounced into the kitchen as he was wiping the sweat off his forehead with a handful of paper towels. "Done mowing?" |
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| Author: Brian R. Smith |
| Losing Innocence |
