Short Story: Retraining Order

An experimental short story:

Dear Diary,

Moms upset agen. Dont know what to do. I asked her if she took her meds and she slapped me. Were in the waiting room at Jens offise. (Jens my tharipest but I probly already told you that. Moms tharipest Nan works here too.)

Mom was late getting to dacare and she was all upset too. We got in the car and came strait here without even going home first. Mom went rigt to the desk and asked for an emerjinsy sessin. Don’t know whats the problem but I hope Nan can help.

Enyways I just got back yesterday from spring brake with Daddy and I had the wunderfullest time. I always have the best time with Daddy. He dozen get upset like Mom and he teaches me cool stuff like why the sky is blew and where color comes from. I didnt rite to you then cuz I was buzy. Hope you dont mind. Enyways I love him so much and I wish I coud stay with him always but I dont know if they have scool there and enyways I have to help Mom.

Your frend,

Raymie

Dear Diary,

Photo: footage.shutterstock.com

Yesterday was the weerdist day of my life. Jen wanted to play this game, so I did. It was a make bileve game like if my dad was bad insted of good. Heres how it works. Jen asks a question and I gotta tell a story about it. Like she migt say, “Did your dad ever hit you?” and I say, “He hits me on the head with a pliyers cuz I dont feed the horse quick enugh.” It goes like that. At first she had to ask a lot of questions like “When” and “Where” and “With what” but I got the hang of it real fast and made some really good ansers.

Mom says Dad is out of the pitcher now but I dont know what that means.

Love,

Raymie

Photo: lifeintherough.com

Dear Diary,

Can’t believe I’m back in therapy after all these years. First session today. It’s no wonder I’m having trouble with Jake, though. Probably can’t deal with men because of what my dad did to me when I was little. Well, God and Jake and I are going to work this one out. I’m not about to let one sick old man mess up my marriage.

Dear Diary,

After I write this, I’ll be ready.

I went in and met the therapist this morning and told her all about the trouble with Jake, and you wouldn’t believe what she said to me.

She said, “Raymie, you don’t need to go through this anymore. Two simple steps. Bring the children here, today if possible, so they can talk to a children’s therapist about what he’s done to them. And get a restraining order.”

I just looked at her for a minute, then I said, “Restraining order against who?”

“Against Jake, of course,” she said. “Then he’ll be out of the picture. Permanently, if you want. Just tell the police what he’s done to the children.”

“But he hasn’t done anything to the children,” I said.

“You’d be surprised,” the therapist said. “Just bring the children and we’ll find out what he’s done to them. It’ll be better for them with Jake gone. And for you.”

It was hard to talk because my teeth were clamped together so hard. So I sort of buried my hands in my baggy sweater and made two fists and squeezed them as tight as I could. Then I could talk. I said, “Jake hasn’t done anything to them.”

Then that therapist smiled, like I was stupid and she was being very patient, and she said, “What children remember most is feelings. It’s up to the adults to supply the events to go with those feelings.”

I just stared at that woman and kept my mouth shut because I was afraid of what might come out of it.

Photo: b.vimeocdn.com

She just kept smiling, and said, “Don’t worry, Honey, it works. Plenty of women have solved their men problems this way.”

I just got up and walked out. I got to the parking lot and ran to my car, and when I was inside I just started talking to myself like a crazy woman. I’ve been talking all afternoon and now I feel calm enough. Now I’m ready. It's time to call Daddy.