\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2273671-Escaping-from-Father
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Short Story · Romance/Love · #2273671
A young lady wants to escape from her Father, but is too afraid.
We were on what Jack called a date: I was 16, he was 32. I only went with him because he was so insistent. A few days ago, when he asked me to ride with him, his puppy-dog eyes melted my heart, so I said yes even though it went against my father's wishes. When I told him about Jack's background father said: ‘he's too old and from a vagabond family.’

On our date we moved along a riverbed. Jack walked tall and strong; leading me on his horse. The horse stopped suddenly. Jack petted it. ‘She's called Shelby,’ he said. As he did so, one of his rough workman-like hands brushed mine inadvertently. I felt my heart beat faster.

As we started moving again, Jack led on the river, and I felt at one with the horse, so when it's hooves struck the stones of the riverbed, it felt like my hooves’ too. Jack looked so handsome that when he tried to kiss me, I wanted to. There seemed the flicker of a tear in one eye when I rejected him. I told him I wanted to be with him but my father would never allow it. During that day, he taught me ride Shelby. He gifted her to me. I thought as a parting gift.

When the time came to leave, we returned to his home by the river. He mounted his other stead and rode away with me beside him on Shelby. When we arrived at Father ‘s place, he patted Shelby affectionately on the rump. ‘I will miss her, 'he said. He gazed at me with his gorgeous brown eyes. I held back tears.’ I will expect to see you back her soon.' As I rode away, I didn’t look back, once.

When I arrived inside, Father asked me in his gruff, laconic manner. ‘You through with that lad lass?’He meant it as rhetorical, so certain he was. In my brain I was rebellious. I yearn to break your hold on me, I thought. I dared not speak it though. I said, ‘ I have agreed to see him again.’

Father hit me once, in anger, a few months ago. On the bible he swore to me it wouldn’t happen again. To punish him for that I now lied when I said I was going to see Jack.
Father’s face went red with anger. He didn’t reply. He guffawed and sat down in his rocking chair. His chin leant on his hand. I think he plotted something? It was my ploy to keep him guessing, but eventually, I would have to obey as was my duty as his daughter.

He got out his bottle of Scotch Whisky and proceeded to get very drunk. I waited because I had not been dismissed. I was not allowed to leave until he gave me permission. He looked at me sternly as he drank: Like a King about to pass judgment on an errant subject.
‘What annoys me lass is that you disobeyed me, and continued to see this lad!’

I realised that I was on shaky ground. My Father was not used to a female challenging him, but I had to make a stand. As far as I was concerned, I was old enough to see a man, and even marry if I wanted too. I would do as my Father told me. I just wanted to open his mind to my point of view. I could tell from my Father’s heartbroken face that he was distraught about being challenged by a female. Let alone his daughter.

‘Your mother would be ashamed of you,’ he said.
My Mother died of the Spanish Flu, only a year ago. Father’s eyes teared up slightly, I assumed from remembrance of her. It only lasted a second; he composed himself. ‘We brought you up to respect your parents, ‘he said. He took a swig on his bottle. ‘You won’t see this man again.’

Without warning my Father began to cry, and wail, pitiful tears. His body shook violently as if his soul, and spirit were destroyed by my actions. I moved in close to him and began to put an arm around him. Suddenly, he struck me hard on the jaw with the palm of his hand. I felt excruciating pain. My legs gave way. I fell to the floor. I now began to cry. My Father said, ‘I did not mean it lass. It was the drink and you brought back feelings of your mother.
Forgive me please!’

‘Yes, Father, ‘I said. ‘ I forgive you.’ But, I didn’t mean it. That evening when my Father slept soundly in his bed, I mounted Shelby, and rode to Jack.

When I walked in his door, he nodded, unsurprised as if he had expected me to arrive. His face lit up joyously; he hugged me tighter than I’d ever been hugged before. ‘What took you so long,’ he said.

© Copyright 2022 GR Closey (lucygavin1324 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2273671-Escaping-from-Father