The Crack in the Door

Friday nights are my favorite because my granddaughters come to stay the night. They love playing games with me and I am old but not too old for them. I never will be, I would do anything for them. I cook for them almost as much as my wife does. She’s an angel on earth but I don’t say that out loud, it’s not what men are expected to do. We are expected to provide and protect and I have done that for several decades, through all of my kids lives. I used to drink but God changed that. I am a better man because of Christ. I am a hard worker and I used to show my anger with my large, tough hands. But even that was love, or I thought it was. I thought I was teaching them how to behave. I was wrong. Now I work with the same hands to provide, to cook, the play hide and seek with grandkids. To cut wood for fire to keep them warm. And sometimes, when no one is looking, bring my wife a coffee and tuck her in with a blanket. Because she really is an angel and even a tough old man like me can show her gentleness sometimes.

            The girls, my daughters girls are playing now and waiting on me to fix them a snack. I make them noodles and they take the bowls with their tiny hands and run off to eat them wherever they please. There are no rules anymore, this is a fairy land to them. A place that they are free. I don’t mind, they can’t do much damage and this house is old. It belongs to all of them. Their mom can be strict like I was but she’ll change too. Their dad is not tough like me in discipline, but he works hard as me or harder, my son in law. I love him like a son. These girls have good parents, and me and my wife are a second set. Their uncles and aunts are also close to them, they have a whole mess of parental figures to guide them in many different ways. They are going to be fine.

            I tell them to be careful with the bowls because they are hot. To blow on the noodles before they eat them. My wife is in the living room listening to the radio that I can’t hear anymore unless it’s really loud. My hearing has been going slowly since I was a child but old age has made it go faster. I can still talk and read lips and know sign language.

            Hours later I check on the girls, they are in their uncle’s bedroom while he’s at work. He gives up his room to them every Friday anyway because he loves them as much as the rest of us. Anything they want, they get, especially in this house. The door is locked. What could they be up to in there? They get away with everything here anyway, what would they be hiding? Maybe this is a game too. Panic gets the better of me and I knock and yell for them to open the door. I just know they are making a mess or playing with fire or something. They are little girls but I know mischief, I cause it a lot for fun but they are so small. Who knows what ideas they got from the tv. I see all kinds of foolishness on the tv. There is a crack in the door that I peek through and I can’t see anything. It’s dark in there, the tv is on and glowing a blue color. I can’t see past it. I knock and yell but I’m ignored. They don’t take me seriously, I never discipline them. They won’t be in trouble even if I catch them doing something bad. I’m soft with them even if I talk loud. I will yell at them but not lay a finger on them or tell their parents. They know that, they’ve always known that.

            They are very young girls still, I’m sure whatever it is can’t be too bad. How could it be? I leave it alone for a while and eventually they open the door. Everything is fine. I ask why they locked the door and they look scared and I feel bad so I leave it alone. The house is still standing and they are safe, that’s all that matters to me. I am relieved that all my life I will never find out what happened in there. Because it would break my heart. It would have ate at me that I was just outside the door. If I had known I would have smashed it to pieces to get inside and stop it. I would have died or killed for anyone in my family. Especially one of those girls. I would have grieved like nothing else knowing I didn’t stop it. The night my granddaughter was molested by her older sister.