Reunited Part 2

To make a very long story short, my dad easily won custody of me. At 16 I was old enough to testify on my own behalf, and I refuted everything my mother and her father had accused my dad of. Namely, of molesting me and beating my mom. I told my mom that if she forced me to live with her that I'd never speak to her again after I was 18, and she must have known I was serious because she fessed up in court, sobbing the whole time on the stand and apologizing to me and my dad.

I hated her. I thought she was evil, and it made me sick to feel that way toward her. The last time I saw her before going home with my dad was in the hallway outside the courtroom. We were walking away from her, and she was calling down the hall asking me to wait, and crying. I just kept walking next to my dad, my back straight, my head high. It seemed to take forever to get to the elevator, and I was crying before we got there. I didn't try to wipe my eyes or my nose because I didn't want her to know that I was crying. I wanted to punish her. When we got in the elevator I wiped angrily at my eyes with my sleeves and sniffed loudly.

"It's okay, son" said my dad. He tried to pat my shoulder, but I moved to the far side of the elevator and crossed my arms angrily trying to control my tears.

When we got in the car my eyes were still red and watery, and instead of starting the car my dad reached over and put his hand on the back of my head. He didn't say anything, just rubbed the back of my neck a little bit and I leaned forward, rested my arms on the dashboard and balled my head off like I was a little kid. It only lasted a minute or so, and then I was fine.

I forced myself to smile at him, and told him that I wanted to go home. He patted my back, and started the car. We drove all the way back to Arizona that day and arrived back at his house (my new home) by 8:00. On the seven-hour trip my dad and I talked a lot, and at one point he went over the rules for living with him.

My dad believed in corporal punishment. I knew that, but I thought I was too old at that point. He said that I was not too old, that I had a dad again in my life, and that I had gotten into some very bad habits the last few years with my mom. The more he talked, the more picked on I felt. I had to admit to myself that I HAD gotten into trouble with the law once (petty theft) and at school a lot. My dad warned me that my new school used corporal punishment as well, and that I'd have to be careful there.

It seemed so unfair to me, and when he asked why I was so quiet I told him that I thought it wasn't fair, and that I was too old to be spanked in any event. So he asked me, "Well, let's say you do something foolish like shoplifting -- you know, to impress your friends or whatever."

"Dad!" I said. "I would never do that."

"But you did do that, son." It was true, and my face was hot from embarrassment and anger. "So what should I do about that?" he asked.

"I wouldn't" I insisted.

"Hypothetically, Hank. Hypothetically. What would you do in my shoes?"

I had to think about that. If my kid were to shoplift a second time, I wasn't sure what I'd do to try to make him stop. Finally I had to say, "I don't know."

"That's because you're not a dad" he said, ruffling my hair. He looked at me seriously and said, "Son, do you remember when you were little? You trusted me to make all your decisions for you, and you never questioned that. You just knew I'd do right by you. Do you remember that?"

I had never thought about it in those terms, but he was right. "Yeah" I said.

"Do you think you can do that again? I mean, you're old enough to make most of your own decisions and I want to help you to learn how to do that better, but will you just trust your dad?"

A lump rose in my throat then, and I just nodded my head yes. I still felt a little picked on. I felt like he thought I was a loser or something. He knew something was wrong because he said, "What is it?"

I wanted to tell him what I was thinking, but I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"Hey" he said, tugging my ear gently. "This is exactly what I mean. You can't be shy or embarrassed with me, son. I know that's the first thing you feel sometimes, but you've got to remember I'm your dad. I love you so much, and I've missed you so much. I just want my boy back, is all."

I had to sigh heavily to keep the tears out of my eyes. I turned away from him and looked out my window. Quietly I said, "You think I'm a loser, don't you?"

"No!" he said instantly. "Hey" he said, patting my leg. "Hey, look at me."

I turned to look at him. I felt so exposed just then, like if I were suddenly naked in a room full of strangers, only worse than that. I jerked my head a little as he reached for my cheek, but he just patted it gently and said, "I'm really quite proud of you" he said, smiling.

A wide grin instantly spread across my face. From one moment to the next I went from feeling like I wanted to die, to being so happy just to be sitting in the car with him. He pulled me closer by the back of my neck and sort of kissed me sideways while still looking at the road.

"Hey" I said, kind of embarrassed.

He put both hands on the wheel and said, "I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't gotten in your car and driven across the desert all by yourself, son. I was just about ready to die of loneliness, and I put your name on the permanent guest list at the guard gate just -- " he broke off and then said more quietly, "It was kind of like buying a lottery ticket, you know? I was hoping – " again he stopped and though his eyes weren't even damp I saw him swallow hard.

"It's okay, dad" I said, and I held his right hand and we drove in silence for the next few miles.

Still holding my hand, my dad lifted my hand and made me hit the seat with it a couple of times. "You have some bad habits is all, son. I know you're a good boy, and we're going to make sure that everyone else knows it, too. You're going to be a respectable young man from now on." It was a statement, not a question, and without saying anything I gave in then and resolved not to give my dad any reason to punish me.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long. About a month later I had fallen into the wrong crowd at school (they were the kind of kids I was used to hanging around with) and one day at the mall one of my friends dared me to shoplift -- exactly the situation my dad and I had talked about on our drive across the desert.

I figured as long as he never found out, and we weren't caught, that I'd be okay with him and still look good to my new friends. There was no one around, and I put a keychain my my pocket and we left. No alarms went off as I crossed the threshold, and we were congratulating each other as we walked through the mall. As we were heading for the mall exit doors on the other side of the building three security guards walked up to us from the doors and very politely told us that we were caught on video tape and that we'd have to go with them.

They were super polite, but my skin felt like cold water was being poured all over it. We were busted. Then they turned us around, handcuffed our wrists behind us, and marched us through the mall. It was all I could do to keep from crying, it was so humiliating. I just kept staring at the ground while they led us through the mall. I was sure everyone was looking at us.

Instead of calling the police, they called our parents and I was the last to be picked up. I was sitting in the office with the main supervisor (a guy my dad's age) and a young security guy, maybe 21 years old or so.

When my dad walked in I knew I was in deep _s_h_i_t_. The way he looked at me made me so scared I wanted to throw up. He shook hands with the head security guy and started to explain our situation. He told him briefly about how I had come to live with him, about what my mom had done, about how I had prior problems, but that I was with my dad again and that he was sure he could straighten me out.

"Please" he said to the security officer, "I'm not making excuses for him, and I'll make restitution for whatever he stole. He really is a good kid, sir. Probably everyone says that about their kids in here, but it's true. Can we please just handle this without involving the authorities? Please?" I realized then that my dad was begging this man. It put him in a humiliating position, and I hung my head, deeply ashamed.

"Mr. Fields" said the security officer, "I'd like to help you. I really would. But we can't let this kind of thing go unpunished. We just can't."

"Oh, believe me" said my dad, "his backside's going to get it when we get home."

My head jerked up when he said that, and my face was hot. I couldn't believe he had just said that in front of these two men!

The officer nodded his head slowly and, reaching into his desk and pulling out an extra long ruler said, "You willing to prove that, sir?"

I gulped as I caught his meaning. My heart sank when my dad took the offered ruler.

Turning to me for the first time he said, "Get up, Hank."

"Dad -- " I started, but he grabbed my ear and pulled me over to the officer's desk.

"Put your hands on the desk and keep them there, son. I'm sorry about this. I'm sorry we have to do this here, but you haven't given anyone any choice." With his left hand he pulled the waistband of my jeans upward, stretching the material tight across my butt. Oh, God, I thought. He's really is going to paddle me in front of these guys.

Then the head security guy cleared his throat, and indicated with his index finger that I should take my jeans down. We both saw him do it, and I had to struggle to hold back tears of embarrassment.

"Let's go" said my dad, patting my butt.

I looked at him miserably, but he looked so mad I knew it was useless to try to persuade him. The younger guard smirked as I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down to my ankles.

Please don't make pull my underwear down, I thought. Oh, God. Please don't make me.

My dad pushed me over the desk again and started to smack my butt hard with the ruler. I doubted my underwear was giving me much protection, and it was hard to keep my balance with my jeans tangling my ankles.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He didn't pause between smacks, and I struggled not to cry.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! I closed my eyes tightly shut, but couldn't keep the tears from flowing down my face.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! I finally started sobbing and pleading with him to stop. I was so humiliated! I hated him. He had gone too far!

"Stand up and pull of your pants, son" he said. My ass was on fire, and it hurt to pull up my pants, but I did as he said. I wiped my eyes on my sleeves, and I was shaking with anger and embarrassment. I couldn't believe what he had just done to me. He pointed to the corner behind me and said, "Stand there." I slouched, exasperated, but obeyed him. I hiccoughed and cried a little bit more, mortified to be stood in the corner like a little kid.

My dad and the guard talked a bit more, and my dad filled out some paperwork and finally turned to me and said, "You ready to go home now?"

Without saying anything I practically ran for the door, and flung it open. My dad was right behind me, and we went out a back service hallway. My dad's car was parked right there, and I got in and slammed the door.

"You better control yourself, son" he said. I was fuming. I had never been so mad at him. I pouted angrily like that until we got home. I jumped out of the car first, and went into the house ahead of him. When I was at the stairs he said, "Hey, hold on a minute."

I hesitated, not sure what to do. "We have to settle this right now, son."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, angrily. I was trying not to cry again, out of shame, out of anger, and mostly because I was so hurt at the way he had humiliated me in front of those security guards.

"I mean" he said, "you're acting like you've been treated unfairly, and I don't like your attitude."

I wanted to scream at him that I hated him, but that wasn't really true. I didn't know how to make him know how mad I was, and in a shaky voice I finally said, "You didn't have to humiliate me like that" and my voice caught on the last word. I was really struggling not to cry. I wanted my dad to think of me as a man, not a boy, and he certainly didn't go around crying all the time.

"I didn't humiliate you, son" he said, "you humiliated yourself. And me, for that matter. Do you know that if we hadn't paddled you there in the office they would have called the police? You've already been in trouble like that before, and it could jeopardize my custody over you. Did you know that?"

I didn't know that, and it made me feel afraid. "Unless you can think of something else we could have done" he continued "you'd better stop being mad at your dad, because he loves you and would rather never have to do anything like that again."

I was breathing very shallowly then, sizing him up. I really couldn't think of an alternative, but it still seemed grossly unfair. He opened his arms wide and smiled warmly at me. "I bet being paraded through the mall in handcuffs was pretty awful, huh?"

That did it. I stumbled over to him, threw my arms around his neck, and cried again. He rubbed my back and hugged me tightly to him. I didn't know how he knew about the handcuffing, but it didn't make any difference just then.

"I'm sorry, dad" I said.

"I know you are" he said, and squeezed me tighter. Then he let me go, kissed my forehead and said, "You're grounded for the rest of the month."

I didn't argue with him. I felt so stupid for what I had done. My dad was a fair man. I knew that. I just wanted to please him, and I said, "I'm really sorry."

He nodded his head, and made me wince when he patted my butt. "Go get cleaned up for dinner" he said.