The Lake

Dad turned white. He crossed the floor so fast Leigh didn’t have time to move, and slapped her hard across the face.

She was stunned. Dad had never slapped her before.

Whirling around, she ran to her room, slammed the door, and threw herself down on her bed.

She had stopped crying by the time Dad came in. He sat on the edge of the bed. He had been crying, too. He stroked Leigh’s forehead, lightly brushing the hair aside. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know. Me, too.”

“Your mother and I…we try to understand. If we didn’t love you so much, do you think we’d care one way or the other if you were out there?…You could’ve been hurt…”

“Maybe I was. Did you ask?”

“No. Were you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Well, that’s lucky. How did your dress get torn?”

“One of the…” She almost said “pigs,” but she didn’t want to start him up again. “A cop grabbed me. But I got away from him. Then I took off. I was supposed to let them bust me, that was the idea, but I figured you and Mom would really hit the ceiling if you had to come and bail me out.”

“You’re right.”

“I guess you hit the ceiling anyway.”

“I spent four years of my life fighting for this country, honey. I can’t help it, but my blood just starts to boil when I see a bunch of pampered kids who never worked a day in their lives spitting on everything that—”

“Don’t get started, okay?”

“Burning the American flag.”

“Dad.”

“Mouthing off about ‘the establishment.’ My God, it’s the dreaded ‘establishment’ that puts the food in the bellies of these people…I’m the establishment. Me and all the other people who worked our butts off so that our kids could maybe have it a little better than we did. And we’re the enemy? Am I a warmonger? Is Colonel Randolph? Do you think he likes this war? My God, the man’s been devastated by it.”

“Then he should be out there marching against it.”

Dad shook his head, sighed. “I would never wish anything bad on you, honey. I certainly hope you don’t have to learn this the hard way. You’re all idealistic right now, and you’re sure that peace and love will rule the world if you just march around and sing a few songs about it. But I’m afraid you’re in for a rude awakening. There are bad people in this world.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered.

“I intend to, whether you like it or not. There are people out there—and governments—that would be more than happy to wipe out you and me and your mother, our country if they’re given half a chance. Guys like your pals Castro and Ho Chi Minh.”

“They aren’t my pals. Neither is LBJ.”

He ignored that and went on. “Guys like Charles Starkweather and Richard Speck.”

She’d heard of Speck but didn’t know who Charles Starkweather was.

“Do you think your pacifism would work on them? Turn the other cheek on them, and they’ll cut it off for you.”

“I get the message.”

“Do you? I doubt it. I think your mind’s been so twisted around by all your long-haired friends that you don’t know which end is up anymore. We’ve been pretty lenient with your weird outfits and anti-everything buttons and staying out till all hours at that place in Sausalito. But we trusted you to have more sense than to get involved in something like this today. We brought you up to know better.”

“You brought me up to do what I think is right,” Leigh said. “And I think it’s right to protest the war.”

“Well, you’re mistaken. And it’s high time for a crackdown.”

“Let me guess. I’m grounded.”

“At the very least, young lady.”

“Whatever happened to freedom of speech?”

“You can feel free to speak whatever you like, but I will not allow you to march with the Great Unwashed and get yourself thrown in jail.”

“I didn’t get thrown in jail.”

“Not this time. And believe you me, you won’t get another chance at it. Not while you’re living under this roof.”

Leigh pulled the pillow down over her face. “Are you done?”

“We just want what’s best for you, honey.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You’ll understand someday when you have kids of your own. Now why don’t you get cleaned up for supper. We’ll try to start out on a new foot, okay?”

“All right,” she muttered.

When he was gone, she took her robe into the bathroom. She pulled her dress over her head, turned it around, and looked at the buttons pinned to the front. A peace button. One with Uncle Sam pointing, not his finger but a revolver. One read, “Make Luv Not War.” Another, “The Great Society: Bombs, Bullets, Bullshit.” Another, “War is Unhealthy for Children and Other Living Things.” Dad had called them “anti-everything buttons.” He was so blind. Couldn’t he see that they were pro-peace and -love?

Leigh let the dress fall to the floor. She moaned from her aches as she bent down and untied the leather thong around her left ankle. The bell strung through it jingled softly. She set it on the counter.