Hostile Affairs in Kansas

19 year old Frances lives a simple life on the farm with her family until an accident happens and she is left lying on the ground unconscious and bleeding.

I woke to the sunlight coming down onto my face through my bedroom window. I looked over at the clock that sat on my nightstand. It read 7 o’clock. Time to get up and go to work.

My name was Frances Gilbert. I was 19 years old and still lived at home with my family. I am the middle child of a family of six children. My family owned a corn farm and we all worked on the farm each day   alongside my Pa.

I was tall for a girl 6 ft and still growing or so I thought anyways. I had long blonde hair that fell around my oval face in curly locks. I looked at myself in the mirror and my mascara had run due to the high humidity that we had on the day before.

I lived in a small town in Kansas called “Paradise.” This was one of those towns where everyone knew who you were and what you were about. You were always under the eye of what you were supposed to be but never allowed to be who you really are.

I walked into the bathroom and washed my face and hands. I could hear my mama bustling around in the kitchen downstairs. My mama was a short woman about 5 ft tall.

She had long blonde hair that she always pulled up into a bun everyday. She didn’t wear any makeup. She never understood why a farmer’s wife would need to doll up each and everyday.

My mom was a third grade teacher over at the local elementary school. She had been working there for over ten years now and she loved it. She always loved being around children.

I lived in a two story white farmhouse. I had two older siblings and two younger siblings. My older brother Otis was married and lived in the next town over.

My other brother Thomas was two years younger than me and he too lived at home and worked on the farm. My brother Thomas and I were very close; we always tried to stick up for each other as we grew up.

My older sister Margery was married to the local sheriff and they had two children. She was almost ten years older than me and I really didn’t know her very well.

My youngest brother Cody was the black sheep of the family. He was fifteen now and already starting to have issues with alcohol and drug abuse. He never did quite fit into the family dynamic.

I could hear Cody talking to Ma downstairs he was wining about having to clean out the barn today. He was the baby of the family. He was always trying to get out of doing what was asked.

I had an older brother named Jimmy that died when I was around six years old. He had been killed in an accident. We didn’t talk much about him around the home.

I was grateful to my parents to give me a home to live in. I moved out once into an apartment with a close friend of mine and it didn’t work out. She and I started fighting and I was so unhappy that I moved back home.

I knew I should want to move out but I didn’t feel that I wanted to leave the roost yet. My parents were getting older and I knew they needed the help from their children to keep the farm going.

My dad Tom was a strong sturdy man. He was well over six feet tall and had short brown hair that has streaks of gray in it. He was a hardworking man. He got up every morning at 4 am to begin feeding the animals and working in the fields.

He ended every night with a cocktail of bourbon. I stayed clear of him when he was drinking because he occasionally would become veraciously angry and hit us.

My mom escaped the home by going to the school each day working with the children. She was sweet and had a warm, giving personality. The children loved her and she was revered as one of the best teachers this town had ever had on the school staff.

“Frances you better get down here for your breakfast,” she yelled up the stairs. “Be right there mama,” I hollered down the stairs.

I knew I better beat feet and hurry up. My mom was a sweet person but patience was something she did not have with us children. I pulled on a pair of jeans and pulled a tee-shirt over my head and socks onto my   feet.

I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen and sat down at the large oak table we had in our dining area. My Ma poured me some orange juice and shoved it in front of me.

“Good morning,” I said. My brother groaned and just gave me a glaring look. I knew that today was going to be bad. Whenever Thomas had a look like that it wasn’t going to be good.

I ate my eggs and bacon that Ma had made for me. I sat there eating while watching my mother bustle around trying to hurry up so she could get to the school on time.

It was 7:30 am and she needed to leave by 8 am. Luckily we only lived a few miles from the school and it would take her less than five minutes of driving to get there.

I thanked her for breakfast and asked my brother whose turn it was to wash dishes. He said it was his. My brother and I would take care of cleaning up the kitchen for our Ma so that she could get ready and leave for work.

We needed to be out at the farm by 8 am. We hurried through our cleaning and got the kitchen cleaned to my mother’s standards. She was very picky about how her house should look. I believe it was because my dad would throw a fit if the house were not clean.

He could be quite demanding at times and if he was drunk he could be downright awful. We all walked on eggshells every night when he got drunk.

I usually chose to stay in my room and read or watch TV. I barely would come out. I had a lock put on the door to my room when I moved back in with my family.

I didn’t want any surprises while I was asleep. When I was a little girl I could remember hearing footsteps come up the stairs. The stairs would creek and I knew it was late at night.

I would hear them stop at my door and then continue down the hallway. I would hear the knob of the door down the hall, at my sister’s room. I once got up and peeked out my door and could see my father’s stature standing outside her bedroom.

I watched him go into her room and close the door. I could hear her telling him “no” and to “stop” and he would smack her and she would whimper and cry.

I closed my door and ran back to my bed and pulled the covers over my head and put my pillow over my head to drown out the crying I could hear in my sister’s room.

I didn’t know my older sister that well she moved out of the house when she turned 18 and got married to the local sheriff.

When my sister moved out Pa started coming to my room. I could smell the stench of whiskey on his breath. He would kiss me and I tried to push him away or hide my face.

He would always get his way and push himself on me. I would lie there and cry wishing I were dead. Wanting to just disappear into the earth.

I was too afraid to tell anyone but I knew my younger brother Thomas knew about it and he hated my parents for that. It caused him a lot of grief in his life.

I was only seven when he started visiting my room. I hated him for that. He hurt me in ways unimaginable and I wanted to throw up at the very sight of him.

During the day when my dad was sober he was a gently man. He was kind to all of us and to others unless you crossed him. When he was angry he would lash out and hit us. Just backhand us across the face knocking me down every time he did it.

When those kinds of days happened he would visit me and tell me that I deserved it because I didn’t do right by him. I hated him for that and for hurting me.

“Frances,” my brother said while snapping his fingers in front of my face. I snapped out of my dream and looked at him. “Let’s go before dad comes after us,” he said grabbing me by the arm and pulling me toward the door.

I glanced at the clock high up on the wall and it was almost 8 am and we needed to drive out to the farm. If we weren’t there by 8 on the dot my dad would have a fit and we would both be in for it.

We ran out to the old blue ford pickup truck and took off. It would only take a few minutes to get out to the fields. Today we would work on fixing the equipment that needed fixing in the shop.

My dad had a large shop and Thomas was quite the mechanic these days and was able to fix anything. He planned to fix some of the broken machinery while I helped my dad out in the fields.

I drove out to the field where my dad was working. It was a little after 8 am, “Frances where have you been?” he asked while continuing to work. “Sorry Pa I was cleaning up after Ma left.”

“Well come over here and help me,” he said. I began working alongside him. I was surprised that he was not angry with me. I hoped that he would not come after us later that night.

I worked all day and came in at dinnertime, which was around 6 pm. We all came through the door and went to the bathroom to clean up for dinner.

Ma had been cooking in the kitchen since she came home from work. She pulled out a homemade loaf of bread from the oven placing it on the table. It smelled divine. I was starving.

I went into the downstairs bathroom and washed my face and hands. I was pretty dirty and had sweated a lot out in the field that day.

I came out all fresh and new and took my seat at the table. I sat next to my brother Thomas and my parents sat at the ends of the table.

Ma had made a beef roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. She made cream corn and a green salad to eat. My Ma was a fantastic cook. She made many of her own jams and jellies.

I was always amazed at how she could work at the school all day and still come home and cook a fabulous meal for her family. She must have been exhausted but she never showed it.

We ate dinner in the quiet and then Thomas and I cleaned up all the dishes. Ma and Pa retired to the living room and I could faintly hear them talking.

I could hear Pa making himself his usual after dinner drink. I could hear the ice clanging against the side of the glass. It made the hair on the back of my arms stand up and gave me goose bumps all over.

Thomas and I finished up the dishes and I retired to my room to watch some TV. Luckily my room was big enough to have a small two-seat couch and a place to put my TV.

In the middle of my room sat a double size bed with a dark walnut headboard. I had a white dresser with a mirror that hung above it in the middle up against the wall.

My TV was anchored up in the left corner so that I could watch it either from the bed or couch or chair. I had a two-seat couch and one recliner chair next to my bed and a small table between them with a white lamp that sat on it.

I had my own telephone in my room so that I could talk to my friends. I was kind of a loner and didn’t have many friends. I had one friend that I would call my best friend.

Her name is Rene and I have known her since I was in kindergarten. She and her family lived down the road a few miles and we had been friends since we were five years old.

I sat on the couch and flipped through the channels looking for something to watch. There wasn’t anything to watch so I called Rene to see what she was up to.

I dialed her number and the phone rang and rang. No one answered. I decided to go for a walk into town. We lived a few miles from town and there was still enough light outside to see.

 

I began walking into town and it felt good to get away from the farm for a little while. I walked into the local drugstore to get something to drink. I opened the cooler and pulled out a Coke.

I took it up to the cashier and noticed that there was someone new working there. I had never seen him before. He looked to be around my age.

I approached the counter and said, “Hey I don’t think I know you.” “I just moved here with my family a few weeks ago,” he said while ringing up my coke. “That will be 50 cents,” he said. I scrambled to search through my jeans to find the change and handed it to him.

He was really cute. He had shoulder length black wavy hair and was tall about my height. He was muscular and I could see his bulges through his clothes.

I handed him the change and was staring at his face and completely dropped the change on the floor instead of in his hand.

I laughed shyly and my cheeks turned beet red from embarrassment. I picked up the change and handed it to him and ran out of the store.

Dang it Frances you didn’t even get his name. I didn’t want to go back into the store for I was way too embarrassed for that. I decided to go to the park that was down the street and drink my Coke.

I entered the park and it was recently mowed. I loved the smell of fresh cut grass. I found a bench to sit at that faced the pond and water fountain.

I sat there watching the ducks and swans swim around and drank my Coke. I couldn’t stop thinking about the guy at the store. I knew I needed to get to know him.

I didn’t date much. I was always working for my dad on the farm and chose not to go out and socialize with other kids my age. I was a true homebody who wanted to stay inside.

I mean I like to go out to see a movie or to the store to shop. However, I didn’t like going to dances or out on dates. I always felt weird about it and it was never comfortable.

My friend Rene had a steady boyfriend and she loved to go out and be social. She loved going to parties and she always tried to get me to open up and go out but I always declined.

I finished my Coke and threw the bottle away. I decided to walk over to Rene’s and see if she was home. If anyone would know about this new guy she would.

I walked down a few blocks to her street and up to her door. The front porch light was on and it looked dark inside the house. I walked up to the door and knocked.

I couldn’t hear any noise coming from inside. I knocked again and still no answer. I knew I could walk back over to the store and use the payphone to call her or just head home.

I decided to head home. I took my time walking back and just took in the scenery. I loved to see the sun setting over the fields of corn.

The street that I lived on didn’t have many houses. All of us were farmers and so had farms on our lands and all owned a great deal of acreage for those corn fields.

I remember growing up here and always wanting to leave and to get out of this town. I was rooted and felt complete now living here as a young adult. I didn’t have any plans of moving away any time too soon.

I walked the two miles home and it was almost dark by the time I made it to the house. I was a little sweaty from the walk and humidity in the air.

As I walked up the driveway I could hear my dad yelling at someone in the house. I think he was yelling at my mom. He must be drunk I thought.

I hesitated for a moment on the porch wondering if I should even go inside or stay outside for now. I didn’t want to become part of the fight that was happening inside.

I opened the screen door trying to do it as quietly as possible. It squeaked as I opened it, I stepped inside the house and it got quiet for a moment.

I was getting ready to bolt up the stairs when my dad came through the living room doorway. “Where the hell have you been?” he yelled at me. I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath.

“I walked down to the store to get a Coke,” I told him while trying to keep my strength. I felt like my knees would give out.
”Well you need to let us know when you leave,” he told me with a stern voice.

I could tell that he was already drunk. His eyes were bloodshot and he could barely stand. “Can I go?” I asked. He waved me off to leave and I ran up the stairs to my room.

When I got into my room, I locked the door. My heart was racing and I had to take deep breaths to calm down. I should be used to this by now I thought.

My dad had always drunk in the evening. He was a mean drunk and when we were young he was abusive towards us kids. I remember this one time.

It was 1972 and I was seven years old that year. It was my brother Thomas’s fifth birthday. My mom was baking a cake in the oven.

I sat at the counter and watched my mom make Thomas’s favorite cake, chocolate. She made the mix from scratch and made a dark chocolate cake. She poured the batter into a bear shaped pan.

She put the cake in the oven and began making the chocolate frosting to top it with. I watched her in awe as she whipped through the kitchen making my brother’s birthday foods.

She had planned a dinner party. She was making pizza, and pigs in a blanket, baked beans, and chips and dip. All of my brother’s favorite foods.

She busily cleaned up one mess after another trying to keep the kitchen clean and together. She told me to be gentle when I walked and to walk on my tiptoes so that I would not disturbed the cake and make it drop.

It was Saturday morning and I was still in my pjs. I had come down and my mom didn’t mind that I didn’t get dressed first. It was only 9 am and everyone else was still asleep.

I heard footsteps come down the stairs and they sounded heavy. Too heavy for a child, I knew that my dad was coming down. He had already been up feeding the animals and already been into his drink that morning.

I panicked and froze in place. I didn’t know what to do. I knew he was going to be mad because I didn’t get dressed before coming out of my room.

He stumbled into the kitchen. He looked at my mom and said, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m making Thomas’s food for his birthday party. Please be quiet I have his cake in the oven,” she said while backing up against the counter.

“I’ll make all the noise I want to!” he yelled while walking out the front door and slamming it. My mom just stood there with tears running down her face.

She opened the oven and Thomas’s cake had fallen part way. “Frances go upstairs and get dressed before he comes back into this house,” she told me with a bit of urgency in her voice.

I did what she asked and ran up the stairs and got myself dressed. I put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. I would get dressed in a dress later on for Thomas’s party.

I walked into my brother’s bedroom and he was still asleep. I jumped on his bed and yelled, “Happy Birthday Thomas.” He sat up and smiled sleepily at me and said, “Thanks.”

My little brother was my most favorite person in the world. We were very close. My other siblings were much older than us and my youngest brother was only three so I did not have the same connection with them.

“Come on get up sleepyhead,” I told him while tugging on his arm. “Ma is making your food for the party tonight,” I told him. “Come on,” I said while gesturing for him to come with my hand as I walked out his bedroom door.

As I backed out into the hallway I ran into my father. He was pissed. He grabbed me by the arm and swung me around to face him. My smile went away as I froze in my feet.

He grabbed my chin and forced my face to look up at him. I had tears running down my face as I looked at his dark eyes. “Why are you in your brother’s room?” he boomed while squeezing my face.

“Stop,” yelled Thomas who was now bawling. “Let go of sissy,” he wailed. “You shut up and sit on your bed,” my dad yelled. Thomas did what he asked and sat on his bed with his knees pulled up into him.

Thomas was wailing with his cries and my dad yelled at him to “stop” but he just couldn’t. My dad let go of me and went over to Thomas pulling off his belt and telling me to leave the room.

I begged him not to do it and he pushed me out into the hall and told me to go to my room and wait for him.

I did what he asked. I went into my room and waited for my punishment. I could hear the belt coming down onto Thomas and Thomas’s yells were deafening.

My dad struck him at least ten times with the belt. I heard my brother whimpering and the heavy footsteps coming down the hall towards my bedroom.

Tears were rolling down my face. He opened the door and came into the room and shut the door behind him. He told me to take off my undies and to lie back on my bed.

“No Pa no,” I said. I refused to take them off and he pushed me back and ripped them off of me. I tried to push him off of me with my feet but couldn’t.

“Shhh,” he said. “I am not going to hurt you. Just be quiet and let it happen. You will like it. You will be ok I promise,” he said while kissing the side of my cheek.

I thought I would vomit. I was so sick to my stomach. I kept telling him that I was going to get sick and he just kept touching me. I didn’t like it, he lied. I hated it.

When he finished he told me to go into the bathroom and take a bath. He kissed me on the lips and I could taste the whiskey. I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt. After he left I flew into the bathroom.

I ran a bath and sat in the bath. I hurt so badly and I was bleeding. He hurt me and I didn’t know what I should do. He told me that if I ever told anyone he would hurt him or her and me.

I sat in the bath crying for the next hour. I heard a faint knock at the door. “Frances it is mom are you ok?” she asked. I choked back the tears and told her I was fine and that I was just taking a bath.

“Ok honey well hurry up then and you can come and help me frost the cake,” she told me through the bathroom door. “Ok Ma, I will be out in a minute,” I told her while standing up and stepping out of the tub.

I pulled the plug to let all the bloody water go down the drain. I wasn’t bleeding anymore and went and got dressed. I felt sick to my stomach all day.

I came out of the bathroom and went into my bedroom and stayed there for the next half hour crying. I heard a faint knock at the door and I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Come in,” I said.

In walked my brother Thomas. “Are you ok?” he said. I smiled at him and ensured him that I was all right. He came up to me and gave me a big bear hug and told me that he loved me.

“I love you too little bro,” I said while squeezing him. “Let’s go downstairs and see what Ma is doing to your cake,” I told him while getting up off my bed.

“Last one to the kitchen gets a rotten egg instead of cake,” I said as I bounded toward the stairs. Thomas pushed me out of the way as he jumped down the stairs and ran for the kitchen.

He beat me to the kitchen and when I walked in he was grinning from ear to ear. “I beat you, I beat you, I get the first piece of cake and you get a rotten egg, nanananana,” he told me while sticking his tongue out at me.

I looked at Ma and she was still busily cleaning and baking. She was getting ready to make the dough for the pigs in blankets. I loved these they were one of my favorite dishes.

My brother and I watched her while she made the dough and rolled it out. We watched her wrap each hotdog. She showed us how to do it and asked if we wanted to help.

We both nodded our heads. She showed us how to do it and we helped her wrap 30 or more hot dogs with dough. I loved cooking in the kitchen with my mom.

She had the chocolate cake out of the oven and sitting on the counter cooling off. It looked fine and didn’t look like it was completely ruined. I knew my brother’s party would turn out to be a good one.

My mom had invited almost everyone in town. She had all the kids coming from his kindergarten class and from church. My mom was making enough food to feed an army.

She loved to have leftovers because they never lasted very long in this house where there were so many mouths that would hunt for food to eat.

The party was a success and everyone came and ate and my brother loved all of his presents. My dad was drunk as usual and hid himself in his study where he entertained the men folk in town with a glass of whiskey and talks of farming.

My dad grew up in a farming family. It was all that he knew his whole life. He worked just as we all do with helping with his dad’s farm when he was a child.

My grandfather took to the drink the same as my Pa. He would come over and ask me to sit on his lap and would rub my legs. I never liked doing it but did to be a good girl.

He cornered me once when I was three years old and he was watching us kids for our parents when my Pa was in the hospital having surgery for his gallbladder.

My mom stayed at the hospital with him and sent us kids over to my grandparents. My grandmother had died before I was born from delivery of one of her children.

My grandfather raised the family alone and with the help of his own siblings. He had five children all close to the same ages of my Pa’s kids.

Grandma went to deliver the 6^th child when she bled to death. I don’t know more than that but this is what I had been told by my Ma.

When I was three and my grandpa cornered me in the bathroom. He was the first one to touch me inappropriately. He drank whiskey everyday like my Pa.

Author's Note

formatting came out funky on here