Member-only story
Dobermann Pinschers
The violence in our homes
He disconnects the phone when he goes out…
She’s not allowed to go out or call when he’s not there…
My parents and my godparents were sat in the living room. My sister and I were expected to be playing elsewhere, amusing ourselves. Not that my godparents weren’t good with children, but there was important adult business at hand and I knew implicitly that we should not be there. I listened around the door, however. I was good at listening from behind doors, walls, the back of the couch, making myself still and quiet. I knew where all the grownups’ blindspots were.
If you call, we can see if he’s there or not. If he answers, just pretend it’s a wrong number.
We need to know if she’s alright…
From my hiding spot, I couldn’t see what my godfather did but I heard the rotary dial of our phone whirring. No one spoke. I could hear them straining forward from their comfortable seats on the couch and armchairs.
My godfather: It’s disconnected.
The phone receiver clunked down.
A moment.
Soft dismay.
I don’t remember what happened after that abortive phone call. These events are from more than three decades ago (I think I was…
