Page 37 of The Starfish Sisters
Suze
Sunday morning after church, I was washing dishes with two of the church ladies when my father stormed into the room. He never came in there, and I was suddenly on high alert. Did someone see me at the movies yesterday?
“Thank you, ladies,” he said to the women. “I need to speak with my daughter alone if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course, Reverend.” One touched my shoulder as she passed, so I wasn’t the only one who’d picked up on that mood.
I reached for a dish towel to dry my hands, but before I could do it, he slapped me so hard I staggered to the right and lost my grip on the towel. Stunned, I raised my hand to the burning spot. He’d never slapped me before. “What did I do?”
In his hand was a printed piece of paper, which he shoved in my face. “Are you in a play?”
Cold washed through me.Not the play. Please not the play.“It’s about Anne Frank, Daddy. It’s not a bad play or anything. She was a girl who hid from the Nazis—”
He swung his hand again, slapping me from the other side, and I gasped at the pain. “I know who she is! Why did you think you could prance around onstage parading your vanity in front of the whole world?”
I straightened up. “I got thelead, Daddy! I’m really good at this!” When he started to slap me again, I ducked away and ran across the room. “I deserve a life of my own!”
“Oh, you do, do you?” His hands were in fists. “You deserve the life I tell you you’ll have. Get yourself home right now.”
My hands were shaking. Keeping the table between me and his hands, I ran out the back door and into the house. I could feel him following me with deliberate steps, and I sank onto the couch, trying to come up with defenses, but there weren’t any. I started to cry, imagininganother girl in the role of Anne Frank. It was the first thing I’d wanted for myself like this, wanted so badly I couldn’t stand to lose it.
When he came through the door, I said, “Daddy, I’ll do anything you want, serve extra, take care of the children in the nursery, whatever you want, but please let me do this! Please!”
“Oh, you’ll do anything, will you?” He slipped his belt from the loops at his waist. “You want to be a Jezebel like all those women out there, strutting their bodies in the street and tempting men to sin? You want to show off? You want to be admired?”
I sobbed. “No! I just want to act. I’mgood—”
“Stand up!”
“No, Daddy. Not the belt, please!”
“Stand up!” he roared. And when I did: “Turn around and grab on to the back of that chair.”
I obeyed because it would be worse if I didn’t. Closing my eyes tight, I gripped the chair and braced myself, but I still couldn’t help crying out when the belt landed across the backs of my thighs. Again. And again. I don’t know how many times. I wanted not to cry, but the tears poured out of me and I fell down to my knees, sobbing. Blubbering. “You’re grounded for the week,” he said, putting his belt back on.
“No! Daddy, please! Phoebe is here!”
He didn’t even bother to answer.
Phoebe
The next morning I was tortured with guilt over the kiss with Joel, and terrified that Suze would hate me. She said he wasn’t her boyfriend, but maybe she’d be upset anyway. I mean, what were the rules? I wanted to talk to her about it before he did.
Twice I went to the house, but nobody answered, and when I peeked into the kitchen windows at the church, nobody was there.
Amma and I were sitting down to dinner when a boy about ten delivered an envelope to the door. I recognized Suze’s handwriting and tore it open. A single piece of notebook paper was inside.
Dear Phoebe,
My dad found out about the play and he gave me the belt, and I’m grounded for the rest of the week. I am so sad! I’m going to miss your entire visit and I won’t be able to do the play, and I HATE HIM SO MUCH!
One of these days, I’ll get away from him, I swear.
I am so so so so so so sad about the play.
Love,
Suze
