Behind Enemy Lines part 1

Chapter 36

Behind Enemy Lines

 Part 1

Mom and Dad sighed with relief when they left and sagged against the door knowing the coast was clear. To say things worked out into my favor in the Rothwell home, would be like saying tigers don’t have teeth. Mom and Dad needed some alone time and some space of their own. But the problem was me; could they trust me enough to stay put and not run off like a little frightened rabbit? Without locking me inside my room, knowing eventually soon or later I was going to have to come out and join the family. Doing chores without any fuses and doing them correctly without worrying that I wasn’t a flight risk.

Everything comes with a price. Bad equals punishment and doing what you are told, like obeying the rules of the house get rewarded, and in mine and Arthur case not to get beaten. The bigger the reward the bigger price to be paid; not every bad behavior is reward with being beaten with the cattail whip. Believe it or not, there are the worst punishments. Dad has some nice new toys hidden deep in the basement.

Even though it had been almost a full day since I was sick in bed; it was time to earn that golden prize like going to scouting and mutual and other church activities and functions and priesthood duties. I couldn’t do much at first without causing my back to bleed, nor was I allowed outside without a chaperone or taskmaster to watch over me. Yet it didn’t stop Mom or Dad making me a list of things that needed to be done around the house on a daily and weekly bases. Which was light work compared to Arthur’s, but he wasn’t the one recovering from a bad beating and fever that had nearly left me dead. I needed time to recharge and heal.

My jobs consisted of dusting the furniture including all wooden surfaces, vacuuming all floors except bedrooms that weren’t mine, sweep and mop the entryway, sweeping the kitchen floor and helping Jody, Kerry, and Mom with food preparation. Fill and empty the dishwasher and clean all counter and table surfaces. Arthur’s had been everything else I couldn’t do until I was healed enough. Like scrubbing, and clean all bathrooms; two upstairs and the one in the basement, the only one that doesn’t have a shower or a tub.

Mopping the kitchen, pantry floors, and laundry rooms; washing the dining room, kitchen, living room, entryway and hallway, and family room walls and least not forget. Scrubbing all carpet stains wherever Shane has listed and marked. Taking out the trash; considering I wasn’t allowed outside without supervisor at all times. All work must be inspected by Shane, Kerry, and Jody; if Mom and Dad are busy or not here. I know the list seems to be a bit on the unfair side and learning more to Arthur doing most of the work. I was grateful that I didn’t have to do any of it on my knees or use a toothbrush.

On Saturdays my Job was to mow the lawn, sweep the garage floor and driveway and front sidewalk, take the garbage to the curb, clean all inside windows and help weed the garden and the flower beds. Arthur’s jobs were scrubbing the garage floor and driveway. Wash all outside windows. Pick up yard trash and rake the front and back lawn; wash both sides of all doors.

Help me weed the garden and flower beds and cleaning the irrigation ditch from the top of the field down to the end of the property. Each person would be in charge to clean and vacuum their own rooms. And help Mom and Dad when needed. Dad ran a tight ship and everything had to be immaculate and done before he came home from work or pay the consequences.

It could have been worse I figured; I could have been just me doing it and have done it when I was living at home. Mom would constantly check if I was doing a good job or checking to make sure I hadn’t run off. She didn’t make me promise that I wouldn’t, she assumed I would or I wouldn’t. But Dad didn’t trust me regardless. Making double sure I was at least watched by somebody like Shane, Jody or Shawn if nobody else was available.

Mom nearly died with happiness not having to stand over me every second or repeat the instruction or provide a demonstration of each task; like she does with Arthur. She would simply hand me the list of my chores and check when they were completed. Plus it didn’t take me all day to do them as it does with Arthur.

Mine were done within two or three hours tops, depending on how bad they were; leaving me plenty of time to read my scriptures. Write in my journal my thoughts and feelings and goals whether they were, daily, weekly or yearly; or work on scouting or read a novel of my choosing.

Or sometimes I was allowed to participate in family things. Personally, I didn’t mind it so much having Shane and Jody watch me, but Shawn was cruel and vindictive. Making you do it over if he found one single spot or a hair out of place down to a light smudge. He wasn’t allowed to use the whip on either me or Arthur, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t make life difficult for us.

Kerry would walk through with her nose high in the air or pout saying it was so beneath her. Pass it off then warn me, if wasn’t good enough that blame would fall on my shoulders saying “I did tell them and they refused to do it correctly.” Earning a beating of some sort or locked in our rooms which seldom happened with me, because I was the best thing since sliced bread in the kitchen.

Arthur would sometimes have to finish my chores because they needed me more in the kitchen. That Job became mine automatically hands down whoever turn it was in the kitchen. Arthur was given new chores to do, or unless they needed me before I could finish mine. He would be the one doing them. In Arthur’s eyes, it was another strike against me.

To say Arthur hated me is like saying fish needed water to breathe. He would do his best to get me into trouble, having it backfire back onto him. Shane and Jody, and sometimes Mom would come to my rescue. Saying Eric was needed in the kitchen or she needed help with the laundry or something that was too complicated for Arthur to do. Even though it was rare, even Kerry would come to my rescue. Dad would argue that I was becoming more and more like a woman than a man.

Yet the odds were slightly in my favor and yet it was true. He would rather have his shirts ironed and clothes cleaned by me than Arthur any day of the week. Or risk having tie-dyed, wrinkled or burned iron marks on his clothing, even missed matched socks. I was a better seamstress when came to darning socks or retying on a button; and could fold clothes, towels and sort socks, a hell of a lot better and in less time than Arthur ever could in his wildest dreams; and best of all I didn’t need to be watched. I was simply told once and it was done, without any fuss, but it bothered him too.

Dad would work me just as hard when he was home doing manly things too. Stacking hay and digging new post holes and washing both cars. Feeding and watering the horse, shoeing the horse, and brushing him down and giving the horse a bath. Whatever chore he could find that deemed worthy of becoming a man in his mind. Or sometimes have me saddle him and ride him up and down the field saying “Earick, the horse needs some exercise and a workout after standing in that field all day or all week;” trying to make it sound like a chore without trying to grin; in front of Mom or my new sisters. Just to get me out of the kitchen and from doing woman’s work.

He knew I could ride and saddle a horse just as good or better than he could and he had watched me do it enough times until he was satisfied to the point that he would just watch from the kitchen window laughing at Mom and my sisters. Having too do things without me; while they watched me riding up and down the field, as if was his private joke and I was the punch line. Jody or Shane would ride with me or sometimes Dad would when we took the horse out of the field and go up to the church and back or do some trail riding sometimes with friends.

Again it struck a nerve with Arthur, and personally, I couldn’t blame him. It’s not his fault that he was mentally challenged and I wasn’t. I did my best to include him, but it never worked out. To him, I was the favorite new toy that everyone wanted. Yet I worked just as hard or harder.

In the months to come scouting soon became not a prize to be earned, but mandatory, anything to get me out from doing woman’s work. Dad knew I hated sports, it didn’t matter what kind; Football, Basketball, Baseball, and Wrestling. He was bound and determined that I was going to play them all. Watch every single game with him and the boys; all year long if I had too. He was determined to make a man out of me yet; regardless if it killed me.

Not everything was a bed of roses. In fact, it was my own fault in some ways. Mom and Dad need some “alone time” and discussed if I could be trusted not to leave the house or my room without locking me in my room. I was still pretty beaten up and the fever returned that Friday night having passed out at the table. It was a good thing Mom had moved my spot next to her so if something happened, they could throw me in the shower clothes and all quickly. Without having me to slide out behind the table; she wanted a direct line. Not a maze of chairs and bodies to get me there. She knew I was running a little high throughout the day and should have been sent back to bed after the Bishop came, but Dad thought it would be good for me to be up and about getting some air into my lungs, and I agreed that it would be good to move around a bit.

Mom had borrowed another shirt from Shane’s closet so I least had something I could wear around the house and still be comfortable. With the large strip of bandages over the worst of the wounds that kept bleeding’ not a quite the downpour; but enough to be irritating if I moved too much the wrong way. Apparently, the missing boy's clothes would have drowned me in a second. The kid was built like a linebacker even Shane as big he was or should say as tall as he was. We were still roughly the same size when came to shirts, and would always borrow each other. Just so we could have a bigger wardrobe to choose from.

I don’t know what is about the night time. You always seem worst during the night then you are during the day. Mom and Dad planed an early supper so they could go out and have that “alone time” for least few hours at least. I thought I would be fine. I hadn’t seen Jeff in the last two days personally. So I thought nothing bad was going to happen. But apparently, I was wrong.

Mom had felt my forehead off and on throughout the day. Said I was running a slight fever asked if I needed to lye down. I declined said “Dad was right. I needed to do something then lay in that bed.” So she and I went about our business. By almost supper time I was in a cold sweat and my teeth were close to chattering. Mom took my temperature saying it was 101 almost 102. She asked me if I could make it through dinner. I said I could and we left at that. Knowing full well how Dad likes us all to be present at the dinner time, no exception unless you were dying.

I nearly stumbled twice setting the table, having to sit a moment to clear my head. I shook my head saying I would be fine and finished my task. What I should have said was “no I wasn’t fine.” But if you don’t know me by now; I can be quite stubborn; plus the thought about me lying in that bed for one more second angered me. I hated being helpless and I wanted to prove to them most of all Dad and Mom that I wasn’t a wimp and could be a man, not a small child with a boo-boo on his knee. But fate has always been cruel.

I did the one thing that was unacceptable. I fainted as my face planted straight into my plate. Smearing mash potatoes and gravy all over my face and vegetable sticking on top of my forehead as I slumped to the floor unconscious for several seconds, Mom patting my cheeks and lifting my eyelids. Sighing with relief as I groaned stating I was still alive, but embarrassed.

It took Shane and Dad to pick me off the floor. Quickly throwing me into the shower clothes and all; I said. “Did anyone take pictures of that truck that hit me?” And said; “I guess my dinner is over?”

While Shane dumped another bucket of cold water over me saying; “Mom, Dad. I got this.” Striping off his shirt and socks and started to undress me, as the water soaked us both. I could hear Mom telling Dad. “I told you he should have stayed in bed, but you just had to push him.”

Dad saying, “I am not the one that gave him all those chores to do.”

Mom yelled back; “I told you he was feverish all day, but you said; ‘he’ll be fine; he needs the fresh air and a little hard work isn’t going to kill him,’ trying too mimic Dads voice.

Dad said after noticing everyone at the table watching. “We will talk, about this later Karen.” Dropping the conversation and closing the bathroom door behind them.

Shane busted a gut as he threw out our wet both clothes out of the shower; letting me clean off the food from my face telling me.” We got to stop meeting like this, people will think we are dating.” I laughed and he laughed with me. Then we each dried off and walked me back to my room, taking a detour through Mom and Dads room and helped me climb back into bed. Mom was kind enough to leave Shane a nice clean pair of boxers. Leaving the door closed so we could have our privacy; and a plate of food for each of us and desert.

By the time we had finished our supper Mom and Dad came by telling me that I needed to stay in bed until further notice. Then changed that saying except for prayers asking Shane; if he would be so kind to stay since he was already here and the four of us will kneel together. With a kiss on cheek feeling my forehead Mom charged Shane. That if my temperature goes above 101, not 103 that I had better be in that shower or he would catch hell for it. Saying goodnight and turned out the light. Shane said. “I guess I am staying here;” seeing Shawn with his sleeping bag and pillow standing in the doorway.

Dad laughed “Did you think you had a choice?” Saying “good night son;” correcting that saying “good night son’s” meaning plural.

It was the first time that Dad didn’t include me or Shane in family prayer. I don’t know if it was a mistake or a punishment. All I know Jeff wasn’t around and before Mom and Dad left for their late night date; the change was in the air. Shane and I had visited our favorite watering hole only twice more that night. Even though we didn’t need Jody’s help she was there anyway, commenting how cute our butts were, Giggling as we walked down the hall naked in the moonlight.

If camera phones were invented back then; I can guarantee she would have taken pictures. Sisters can be so annoying. Shane just sighed saying “take a good look,” throwing the towel in her face.  Wiggling his cute butt as we saw -shay back to my room; and climbed back into bed as he waited for her to finish putting on the lotion on my back, reminding her “Payback is looking real good in her future.”