Sister of Silence by Daleen Berry Read Free Book Online

his hand over my own, and showed me how to run the stick along the edge of the table. Taking my right hand, he helped me form a hole between my thumb and forefinger, showing me how the stick could slide through, and move back and forth.
    “Now, what you want to do is shoot one of these balls down into a pocket—that’s the little holes in the corners and sides of the pool table.” As he spoke, he picked up a stick and took aim. Just as I heard a sharp crack , the ball shot forward and into one of the holes. “Just like that,” he said. “Now you try it.”
    Aware of an audience, I could barely hold the long stick still enough to do anything with it. But after a few tries, and with Daddy holding the heavier end, I managed to shoot one of the balls. It didn’t go into a pocket, but it did scurry all over the table, even knocking against other balls.
    Daddy was smoking too, so as we played pool, Carla and I begged him to blow smoke rings for us. He laughed and said, “All right, just a few.” Forming an O-shape with his mouth, he produced the most magical, perfectly round wisps of smoke that escaped from his lips, floated a short distance away, and then vanished before our eyes, making us beg for more.
    Then he walked over to the bar and ordered another beer. By then, we’d been there so long we were bored. I hated to interrupt him when he was talking or playing pool, but I wanted to go home. I knew Mom would be worried if she came home and couldn’t find us.
    I tugged gently at his shirtsleeve. “Daddy, when are we going home?”
    He grinned. “As soon as I finish this one.”
    It was what he always said, and I never knew if that meant the drink he was working on, or the next one. I turned away and tried to find something to do to keep from being bored.
    Later that night I was upstairs with the new ballerina music box Daddy had won for me playing some game with the bartender, and that’s when I heard my parents downstairs. I’ll never forget Mom’s fiery voice as their words drifted up the stairs, like the smoke from one of Daddy’s cigarettes.
    “Dale, I can’t believe you took our daughters to a beer joint again!” She hissed the words, unsuccessfully trying to keep her voice a whisper. Mom only talked to Daddy like that when he came home staggering and couldn’t speak, the ever-present row of empty beer bottles his sole companions, or when he just sat at the kitchen table and stared straight ahead, ordering me or Mom to get him another beer from the fridge.
    “Oh come on, Honey,” he replied. “They like it. They had a good time.” His words were slurred.
    From upstairs, I opened and closed the music box lid, trying to watch the ballerina bend over and disappear each time, only to stand up and reappear when the lid opened again. I could hear their voices but only needed to imagine their faces. It was a scene I’d seen played out too many times before. My mother would have a stern, unsmiling expression, in direct contrast to the drunken, silly smile on my father’s face.
    “I don’t care if they did like it,” she said. “I do not want my daughters around those people. Those drunks!” I could picture her stormy blue eyes, and the way she would lean forward, shaking her finger at him.
    “Wuz wrong wif’ them?” Daddy asked. “They’re my frenz.”
    Mom was probably shaking her dark head. “I think you need to choose better friends, Dale. Remember that time one of your friends dropped Carla on her head? Besides, you drove home afterward, and you know I hate it when you drink and drive! What if something happened? What if you wrecked the car and the girls were hurt?”
    By then she was crying, and I heard Daddy’s chair scrape across the floor as he stood, legs probably wobbly as he went over and put his arms around her like he always did.
    “Hey Eileen, I’m sorry, Honey. I dint know it would make you so upset. I won’ do it again. I promise.”
    But he did. The same thing would happen