Mother rushed into the house and ordered me to go to my room. I sat in the forlornness of my bare room, wondering how mother was going to dodge this one. Why did she put up with this abusive goat strung on De Clerambault’s Syndrome. Yes he brought several women to the house and mother would get kicked out of the bedroom. She would sleep on the couch while quietly listening to the moans and groans of pleasure from her own bedroom. What tore my heart was she couldn’t protect us from him! I hated her for being as docile as a lamb, for being silent, for covering up for him and letting us go through hell.
Every attempt I made to reach out to her, she shut down and spoke in the proverbial annoying verbatim “ Honour your mother and father.” Right, honour the perpetrator of abuse and abuser. The day father fished out his whip, when it slipped my mind that I was supposed to kneel when he spoke to me. I watched mother look away as each lash cut into my skin. I knew for a fact that she never loved us because no sane mother would allow her children to endure that amount of pain and abuse indefinitely without batting an eye. In some demented way she depended on his cruelty. This sadistic Mafioso gave her bearings to this life and against the dysfunctional set up she loved him still, despite the fact that he was a rank higher than Satan himself.
Tariro came back walking triumphantly with two police officers following closely behind him. His lip split open revealing an ugly cut. Seemingly he lost two of his bottom teeth. His mangled lips meant nothing in comparison to the budding euphoria of victory from the depths of my chest. Finally we could be free! May they lock him up, put the key in a time capsule and throw it at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. May he rot in jail for all eternity. That unimaginable piece of trash was going to the pits of hell where he belongs. I happily stepped aside to let Tariro and his team enter the house. My little brother could not hide his bloody, gap-toothed smile. The boy was grinning like a Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. I never anticipated what happened next, not even in my worst nightmares.
“Frank!” I heard my father yell in delight. One of the police officers playfully punched father in the stomach and they all burst in boisterous laughter. They began talking in an all too familiar fondness. Father immediately ordered mother to prepare sadza for his guests. Before I could harness my emotions, I felt the tears run freely down my cheeks.
“Hush child.” I heard my mother say, “Help me cook for your father and his friends, quick! Don’t just stand there, chop the covo leaves and wash them first Chenai!”
Mother spoke as if everything was normal. A skill she had mastered and executed flawlessly without effort. I watched Tariro sit there, broken, hopeless and defeated. I felt his pain apprehensive of his struggle to bite back the tears.
“ Get out of here boy. Where the bloody hell are your manners?! The grown ups are talking. Scoot!”
Father Dismissed Tariro. That is when it all dawned on me. The ugly- tasting-bitter-reality. There was no way out.