jodie pender /6

She knew it was over when her mom smiled in that way at the dinner table, hand wrapped so tight around her knife that her knuckles were white.

Jodie was staring down at her plate carefully. They were eating off of the good ones, white porcelain with indigo blue flowers painted all over them. She'd broken one once, dropped it on the kitchen tile at the wrong angle, it'd shattered everywhere. Mom took the fall for that one and dad wouldn't stop yelling and Jodie hid in the hallway closet until it was quiet, like a coward.

But it was because she was yelling back, that's why dad would hit her and that's why that night, Jodie knew it was all over. Mom was smiling through the bruise on her cheek even though dad was talking on and on about how everyone else had it so much better than them. No matter what mom did, it was never enough for him. Everyone else's wife was prettier, their kids smarter than Jodie. "A man like me deserves it all, Helena."

But Jodie always wondered, why not a woman like mom?

Jodie didn't want to stick out. She did what she could to make herself seem less enticing actually. Baggy clothes and a cloud of hair framing her face to protect herself seemed right. She didn't like the way people looked at her, the way dad's friends from work would stare right at her at barbeque's and say, "Jodie's growing up to be as pretty as her mother, Travis."

They said it like it was a compliment but all it ever made Jodie feel was naked.

Dad found a way to get mad at Jodie for that too. He tossed a t-shirt from the laundry line at her, "Cover yourself." She pulled it over her head quick, not missing the anger in his tone.

And mom had watched, arms crossed, eyes needle-sharp on dad's friends. Her fingers had dug into her arms, her smile wider than it should have been as she nodded along to something the neighbour said.

Everything outside of the house was a stage and they were expected to be actresses.

Three months back, when dad wasn't home yet from work, her mom took half her wardrobe and packed it carefully into a suitcase. "Anything that's important to you Jo, put it in here. Only your most precious things, alright sweetie?"

So Jodie had laid her old bear inside and a hairbrush that had belonged to her grandma. Everything else was fine if it got left behind. The bracelet her dad had given her for her twelfth birthday was always safe around her wrist anyway. He got mad once when she forgot to put it back on.

Mom had put sleeping pills in dad's meal that night, almost half a bottle, Jodie guessed. As she was cleaning up after dinner and her parents were in the living room, Jodie pulled a chair over to the medicine cabinet and peaked in. She knew, as she stood there on the old wooden chair, listening to the sounds of the television from the other room, that tonight would be her last night in her home.

She felt nothing about it.

Maybe she should have felt sad or at least like she was going to miss the place, but any good memories she held were overshadowed by the bad. There wasn't a single room in the home that she hadn't felt fear in.

That night, she kissed her dad's cheek goodnight and when she got into bed, she climbed in with her shoes on. Jodie wanted to be ready, to spring out of bed the moment her mom came to get her.

She lay in the dark for hours, straining to hear anything but the house was silent. It was so quiet that she could hear the ticking of the old grandfather clock from downstairs. After a while, Jodie's heart sank. She'd grown attached to the idea of them running away, had dreamed about it for so long that maybe she'd just dreamed that it was going to happen.

At around one, she pulled her suitcase from the closet and dragged it over to the window. Jodie moved slow and quiet, every floorboard in her room seemed to creak anyway. Every few steps, she'd pause to make sure that she hadn't woken her mom and dad up but it stayed quiet.

Her window was already open, humid summer air rolled in freely and Jodie pushed her suitcase out of the window. It landed in the backyard with a loud thud and she went still, listening hard.

But there was nothing.

The feeling that something was wrong had been building all night but Jodie had ignored it, thinking that it was just nerves. She couldn't anymore. There was a chance she'd misread the situation, a chance that their escape wasn't meant for tonight after all. Except her mom had been holding the knife like that and the sleeping pills were gone.

Maybe dad had seen that too.

Jodie crept out of her room and slipped into the hallway, careful to walk along the edge, toe to toe to keep quiet. The house had always seemed extra scary at night, as if it were sleeping too, long breaths filling the hall and exhaling through the open windows.

Her parent's bedroom door was open slightly and Jodie pulled it open slowly, wincing at every small creak.

The room was dark, the blinds shut tight. Moonlight filtered in through small cracks but it wasn't enough to make anything out. Jodie waited in the doorframe as her eyes adjusted. At first, she didn't catch the small whistling. It was like air being caught over a small jag in a windstorm, a pathetic broken sound.

Then, she saw the blood-spattered on the carpet, dripping in a line to the bathroom.

A figure lay on the bed but Jodie chose not to look at it, instead beelining for her parent's ensuite. The sound grew louder the closer she got. The nightlight was on but someone had broken the light fixture on the wall. Jodie stepped carefully over the blood and knelt down in front of the tub, reaching out gently for her mother's hand.

Her face had been beaten so badly that it was hard to make out her features in the dim light. Jodie stared at her calmly, her heart choosing to beat again as she felt her mother squeeze her hand back gently.

"Mom," she whispered, "Dad's asleep, let's go."

Jodie pulled Helena out of the tub slowly, bending her shoulders so that her mom could hang off her slim frame. They moved slowly so as not to wake Travis but also because her mom couldn't move fast.

Jodie got her outside and then went back into the house for her mom's suitcase. It was open in the front hall, items were strewn everywhere. Dad must have found it and gotten mad. She'd lain in bed above it all, unable to hear it over the sounds of the tv.

Jo gathered everything up as quick as she could, tears finally streaming down her face now that she was out of sight. There was a plan of course. Her aunt lived in the trailer park across town and she and her mom had walked there a few times, so Helena could teach her the route. It made the most sense to go there. Aunt Viola was cool, a full-time artist and always telling mom that she should leave Jodie's dad.

It took them three hours to get across town. Helena needed leading, her whole face was black and blue, she couldn't see. Morning light painted everything a dull grey-blue and Jodie's feet hurt bad. Her arms were sore from dragging the suitcases and it was hard to listen to her mom's wheezing breaths.

Now when she thinks back about that night, it's hard to remember just how long they walked for. In her dreams, Jodie is still walking, that fear in the back of her head the whole while that her daddy was following them both across town.

Everything other than the walking is a blur.

She remembers the bright pink flamingo lawn ornament marking the beginning of the trailer park and the old man with the coffee cup who saw them enter. He had this look of horror on his face as he looked at Helena and that was all Jo needed to burst into heavy sobs.

All of her horror, all her pain and embarrassment slipped down her cheeks and it was through her tears that she had to explain that they were looking for her aunt Vi.

And he brought them to her trailer then. Aunt Viola took her mother inside, angry tears falling down her cheeks too. "Joseph, can Jodie sit with you awhile?" Aunt Viola begged.

Jodie didn't know how to explain that all she wanted to d was lie down.

Her feet felt like stumps, she was pale with exhaustion and sweat made her red curls cling tightly to her cheeks.

"Err, cup 'a coffee, kiddo?" asked Joseph as he led her back down the lane to his trailer.

She was ten years old and had never had a cup in her life.

"Yes please, Mr. Joseph," she said politely anyway.

"Most everyone here calls me Grampa Jo," he said then, and gave her a gentle smile, "But what do I call you?"

"Well... my name's Jodie," she said, "I'm eleven."

"Little Jo it is then," the old man said, and he held a hand out, "Come on then, I got somewhere you can rest."

Jo spent the morning on the old man's front steps, a blanket around her shoulders and a cup of coffee warming her hands. Birds heralded the rising sun, their tweeting like joyful little songs.

And the fear that had followed her since her last step out the front door was gone. She rested her head against the stair railing and shut her eyes.