As hard as I could.
I could feel his nose breaking against my fist.
The cartilage splitting and the veins popping open.
The blood gushed from his nostrils.
It covered my hand before I could pull it back.
It washed over his face and shirt.
His knees buckled and he went down hard, cracking his head on the floor.
I stood there with my fist cocked and ready, but it was done.
He was not getting up.
There were hospital guards there now.
They grabbed my arms and pulled me back.
I was big and strong and out of control.
I elbowed one of the guards in the nose and knocked out the other with one punch.
I started for my father. I wanted to kick him in the ribs so he’d know how it felt. I wanted him to clutch his sides at the pain of just taking a breath. I wanted to do to him what he had done to me my entire life.
Then, chaos broke out around me.
Do
ctors and nurses running, hovering over the old man.
Three cops appeared, coming out of nowhere with handcuffs and tasers and metal batons.
They beat me until I went down, then one of them pushed a knee into my spine and clamped the cuffs hard around my wrists and dragged me away.
The last thing I saw was my mother’s face.
She lowered the handkerchief and looked down at the old man.
She looked at me.
And smiled.
* * *
I spent two nights in the county jail because no one was willing to bail me out. I didn’t even bother to use my one phone call. It would have just been a waste of breath.
I was being charged with assault and battery.
The hospital guards were fine, no permanent damage, but the hospital was pressing charges.
My old man had a broken nose and a mild concussion from his head bouncing off the hard floor.
He was already home, according to the public defender they assigned to me, who, by the way, was about as useful as tits on a two-by-four. He said I was facing two years in the state pen. It was his idea to plea me out if I’d join the military. He was an ex-Navy man. He called the recruiter and the judge.
Two days later, Gulf Breeze was just a distant memory.