13. My Mom Can Whip Your Dad!A Chapter by Craig2591
Chrissy confronts the father of a bully.
Ian had spent most of that Sunday afternoon at his studio stretching and gessoing a new canvas for his next painting. While he worked, he reflected on how things were going with his new little family. It had been Chrissy's idea to foster and then adopt Emily, the nine-year-old orphan that lived in their apartment complex. But caring for a child was a much tougher job than she had anticipated. There had been an adjustment period with plenty of fighting, crying and whining about bedtimes, schoolwork and chores. Ian had taken it all in stride since he had already raised a daughter through a previous marriage and knew what to expect. But being a parent was all new to Chrissy. She had become quite depressed for a while and he had been worried about her. But she finally seemed to be adjusting to motherhood and had been in a better mood lately.
When he got back to his apartment later in the day he walked in the front door to find Chrissy and Emily both sitting on the sofa, each holding a small bag of ice to their right eye. He stared at them both for several seconds before he finally asked, “Do I want to know?”
“Some bully smacked our daughter in the face!” responded Chrissy caustically. Ian looked at Emily with concern.
“So Chrissy beat up his dad,” said Emily.
Ian closed his eyes and slumped his shoulders. He let out a big sigh and pulled up a stool in front of them both and sat down. “Okay, tell me all about it,” he replied. But when Chrissy opened her mouth to speak, he held up his hand to stop her. “Before you start,” he said, “let me ask... were the cops involved?”
Chrissy thought for a moment and then answered, “Well... Michael was there. So, unofficially, yeah.” Michael was the young police officer that lived in the apartment next door to them with his wife, Dani.
“Okay,” said Ian, “Go ahead."
It all started when Chrissy found Emily crying on the front steps of their apartment. According to Emily, a couple of boys had been teasing her. A shouting match erupted between them and ended up with one of the boys slapping Emily in the face. Emily pointed to the boy, who was still outside. When he saw the look on Chrissy's face as she was coming toward him to confront him, he ran to his father who was also outside working on his pick-up truck. What followed then was a heated exchange between Chrissy and the boy's father - so heated that it drew the attention of some of the neighbors, including Michael.
“Who was it?” Ian interrupted. Chrissy shrugged.
“It was Mr. Johansson,” said Emily.
Ian's eyes widened. “Eric Johansson?! That great big Swede that lives in number three?!”
Ian closed his eyes and gestured to Chrissy to continue.
Things really heated up when Chrissy called Johansson a name that she didn't want to repeat in front of Emily. Johansson reacted by giving Chrissy a shove. The man clearly hadn't expected a small woman like Chrissy to respond to that the way she did. What she lacked in size and strength she more than made up for in speed and surprise. With a look on her face that would have curdled fresh milk she reached out and kicked him hard in the side of the leg, bringing him down on one knee with a grunt of pain. That gave her a better vantage point to throw a lightening fast right/left combination to his face, splitting his lip and dazing him. As he blinked away stars he swatted at her backhanded like she was a pesky mosquito and connected solidly with the side of her face, sending her sprawling into the grass next to the parking lot. Quick as a cat, she got back up and came at him in an expletive filled rage. By that time Michael and two of the neighbors intervened by getting between them and keeping them apart. Michael actually had to wrap his arms around Chrissy and lift her off the ground before he could get her to calm down.
Johansson bellowed that he was going to file assault charges against Chrissy, but Michael pointed out that that might not be such a good idea since he had started it by shoving Chrissy. The big man argued that he'd had a right to shove Chrissy after the name she had called him. Michael then informed him that name-calling was not an acceptable reason for assault and that the whole thing would probably get bogged down in a legal morass if he insisted on pursuing it.
Everybody eventually calmed down and Johansson agreed to have a talk with his son about hitting kids smaller than him, especially girls. (Ian wondered if anyone else saw the irony in that, but said nothing). Chrissy admitted that she had probably over-reacted and muttered an apology. By that time, Johansson was actually chuckling as he rubbed his jaw. He extended his hand to Chrissy, who, after a stern look from Michael, reluctantly shook it.
Once Chrissy finished relating everything that had happened Ian sighed one more time. “Is everything resolved then?” he asked, “Are we okay with Johansson?”
“I guess,” she shrugged.
“Alright, let me look at your face.” He inspected her face first and then Emily's. Chrissy's upper cheek was already starting to darken and would probably turn into a black eye before the next day was over. Emily seemed to have fared better and didn't show any lasting marks. “Thank goodness,” said Ian, “If both of you had black eyes the neighbors would probably report me to Social Services for beating my family.”
They spent a quiet, uneventful evening at home and then went to bed. The next morning, as Ian was on his way to his car to go to work, he heard a brusk voice behind him call, “Hey!” He turned to find Eric Johansson approaching him. The man was even bigger than Ian remembered. Ian could see that his lip was still swollen.
Uh-oh! he thought, What does he want? He was carrying something in his hand. A brick? Ian's heart skipped a beat.
“This fell out of your car the other day when you got out,” said Johansson. He held up the novel that Ian had been searching for the last couple of days.
“Oh... hey... thanks... thanks a lot,” said Ian, taking the book from him. He laughed nervously. “I thought you were going to give me a hard time because of my wife.”
Johansson furrowed his brow. “Your wife?”
“Yeah, she told me she got into an altercation with you yesterday.”
The big man's eyes widened. “That little hellcat is your wife?!” he roared.
Oh, crap! When am I going to learn to keep my mouth shut? Ian winced as Johansson reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. But then the big man merely leaned a little closer and said, “Brother, I feel sorry for you!”
He turned and walked away, shaking his head.
© 2013 Craig2591
And Emily Makes Three
AboutI am a visual artist with no formal training in creative writing. I get stories knocking around my head and sometimes I write them down. I decided to join this site to share them with other writers .. more..
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