meant something.
“I know. I know.” His southern drawl was soft.
“I’m serious. Cody and I can’t stay in a situation like this.” Jane pressed her body against the door and fingered the petals on the flowers, purple irises that matched the splotches on her face.
“Jane, I’ll try, I’ll really try this time.”
Cody listened from the doorway of his room. He couldn’t figure out why his mother even bothered. He knew it would happen again. She knew it would happen again. His dad knew it would happen again. He hated the charade that this time things would be different.
“You can’t just try Kevin. You have to do it. You’re a daddy. My God, what you did to little Cody...” her voice trailed as tears ran down her face.
“I love my boy, I do. I’m only tryin’ to do what’s best for him...workin’ long hours so he can have a nice life. My day’s a hard one...a drink takes off the edge. I guess I shouldn’t have so much.”
“No you shouldn’t.”
“Let me make it right, Janie. Get Cody, I want to talk to him.”
“I’m not going to let you hurt him.”
“Janie...I keep us clothed and fed, don’t I?”
“It doesn’t give you the right...”
He cut her off. “I support you and I always will.”
Jane thought for a moment. “Cody,” she said meekly.
“That’s my girl.”
Jane cringed. “Cody.”
This time, Cody did not come to the door as asked.
“Cody!” She called again.
Cody stood firm in his doorway, no apologies this time.
“Hold on, Kevin,” his mother said softly, walking from the door to Cody’s room.
“Cody,” she bent down to his level, “Your father’s sorry. Let him tell you.”
“No,” Cody whispered firmly.
“Cody, he’s your daddy, show some respect.”
“Momma, I can’t.” He had seen his swollen back in the mirror this morning. It was raw looking and it hurt, on the outside and the inside. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. He was too afraid to see his father.
“Cody Blue,” she said sweetly brushing his bangs from his forehead, “do it for me.”
His mother touched on his weak spot. He couldn’t turn her down, but he couldn’t agree with her either. So Cody said nothing and let his mother lead him by the hand to the chained front door. He saw his dad’s eye peering through the crack.
“Cody,” his dad said, “I’m sorry boy. You know I love you.”
Cody said nothing.
“Cody,” his mother prodded, looking at him with expectant eyes.
“Yes Daddy,” he spoke to the floor.
“Now, Jane, why don’t you open this door and let me hug my family?”
Jane obliged and Kevin entered embracing Jane, then Cody. All Cody could feel was the sharp sting of his father’s arms against his swollen back.
And so was Cody’s life. There would be periods of calm and then the rage. By the time Cody was fifteen he’d learned to take it, but he also knew he had enough. For years, a journal had been his only escape. Cody wrote every thought, every action, every emotion on the neatly lined pages. The words were a release from his pain. He kept his journal in a lock box, safe under his bed. It was his paper psychologist, enabling him to relieve his pain and see his future clearly, a future far away from this life.
At fifteen Cody was no longer a young boy, he was a grown man. Six foot three and all muscle. Cody worked out every day strengthening his body as a defense against his father. He joined the track team at school. This gave him access to the weight room. Each day after class, Cody would go and train. He was extremely disciplined. He’d work with weights, firming every muscle, and do sit-ups until his stomach burned. Every rep was one step closer to unbreakable strength.
Cody’s training had other benefits. Cody already had the looks: short chestnut brown hair, bright blue eyes and model like features. His newly firm body brought a lot of attention from the girls. Cody wanted to date them, but couldn’t. He didn’t want to get into a relationship where someone would be asking questions or want to come to his house. So no relationship ever went beyond a casual date. This made Cody even more mysterious and desirable to the girls at his high school. He had a large contingency of female fans at every track meet. He loved the popularity, hated the circumstances.
His father still lashed out in drunken bouts, but Cody didn’t fight back.
Not yet.
He wanted his body in perfect