Educated

I folded napkins from paper towels and put one at each setting. When I
placed one at Shawn’s plate, he again jabbed his finger into my ribs. I said
nothing.
Charles arrived early—Dad hadn’t even come in from the junkyard yet—
and sat at the table across from Shawn, who glared at him, never blinking. I
didn’t want to leave them alone together, but Mother needed help with the
cooking, so I returned to the stove but devised small errands to bring me back
to the table. On one of those trips I heard Shawn telling Charles about his
guns, and on another, about all the ways he could kill a man. I laughed loudly
at both, hoping Charles would think they were jokes. The third time I
returned to the table, Shawn pulled me onto his lap. I laughed at that, too.
The charade couldn’t last, not even until supper. I passed Shawn carrying a
large china plate of dinner rolls, and he stabbed my gut so hard it knocked the
wind out of me. I dropped the plate. It shattered.
“Why did you do that?” I shouted.
It happened so quickly, I don’t know how he got me to the floor, but again
I was on my back and he was on top of me. He demanded that I apologize for
breaking the plate. I whispered the apology, quietly, so Charles wouldn’t
hear, but this enraged Shawn. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, again near the
scalp, for leverage, and yanked me upright, then dragged me toward the
bathroom. The movement was so abrupt, Charles had no time to react. The
last thing I saw as my head hurled down the hall was Charles leaping to his
feet, eyes wide, face pale.
My wrist was folded, my arm twisted behind my back. My head was
shoved into the toilet so that my nose hovered above the water. Shawn was
yelling something but I didn’t hear what. I was listening for the sound of
footsteps in the hall, and when I heard them I became deranged. Charles
could not see me like this. He could not know that for all my pretenses—my
makeup, my new clothes, my china place settings—this is who I was.
I convulsed, arching my body and ripping my wrist away from Shawn. I’d
caught him off guard; I was stronger than he’d expected, or maybe just more
reckless, and he lost his hold. I sprang for the door. I’d made it through the
frame and had taken a step into the hallway when my head shot backward.
Shawn had caught me by the hair, and he yanked me toward him with such
force that we both tumbled back and into the bathtub.
The next thing I remember, Charles was lifting me and I was laughing—a
shrill, demented howl. I thought if I could just laugh loudly enough, the