Homecoming 2: A Price is Paid
It was all so easy. I had felt such nervousness, almost panic, at the idea of coming home. What would they say? What would they think of me? How much recrimination would I face? Would I regret coming at all?
Instead. My room, virtually untouched as if waiting for my return. My father’s open arms. My brother and his family making Maya feel she had always been a part of them. The way the two Dons, my father and my brother, looked at me. The softness in their eyes.
Yet, there was something else. Not something I could put my finger on. But something. Something had yet to be resolved. I could see it in my brother’s eyes, in the way his wife, Sarah, Paul’s sister, looked at me when she thought I didn’t notice. My father and my brother, quietly talking. The way my father hung his head for a moment.
The morning after we arrived, Maya and I awoke to the traditional scent of a breakfast, frying bacon. That scent has always meant home, family to me. We ate breakfast and talked about the day. My brother’s family would come over. My brother had to work, and he would be picking up Paul and meeting us here.
Maya could hardly wait. This was heaven to her. All at once, she had two cousins to play with, forever! And Paul, with whom she was obviously smitten. No surprise there, Paul’s talent for fascinating the female, of any age, had never flagged, it seemed. I had to smile. I had been there. Still was.
Sarah and the cousins arrived before noon, and the kids all vanished into the rumpus room, to engage in those arcane activities known only to young children.
Sarah, my father, and I sat together, chatting about our lives. We mostly seemed to talk about her family, and Don’s career, which suited me fine. My own story would come out in its time.
Mid-afternoon, Sarah and I began preparing a chicken and veg supper. I looked at her, that nagging feeling stronger than ever.
“What’s up, Sarah?” She looked at me, and then did the strangest thing. It seemed strange, anyway. She took me in her arms.
“It’s okay, Abbs, it’s all going to be okay.”
“What is?”
She stroked my face, and shook her head. I felt a formless kind of dread. I tried to put it aside, as we prepared supper.
Don and Paul arrived, and Maya squealed and leaped into Paul’s arms. He laughed and tumbled her around. He saw me, walked over to me, and held me, quite still, for some moments. Then, he let me go, and I turned to Don. He grinned and opened his arms. It felt so good. Then he stepped back, and held me at arm’s length. He looked at me, quietly. And I knew it was not going to be all sunshine and roses.
Don was always the power figure when I was growing up, at least until he left home when I was twelve, to go to university. I always looked up to him. When he spoke, I listened. When he ordered, I obeyed. When he was angry, I was crushed.
That’s the way it was with us.
My father had authority. No doubt about that. But it was quiet. Not like Don’s.
You always knew exactly where you stood with Don. With dad, you could push the envelope. Which I did, to the breaking point. Often. How did he put up with me?

Supper was the usual madcap affair that happens when the long lost, or long away meet again. The kids ate with astonishing speed, then demanded dessert. Of which, oddly there was none. My dad looked at them.
“How about McD’s for dessert and pop?”
I laughed. My dad at McD. Now that was a change. Sarah and I cleared up the dishes, and I headed for my coat.
“Abbs. Stay. I need to talk with you.” My brother. I felt like saying no, but, as usual, I gave in. I got Maya’s coat and shoes, and took them to her. The kids were soon geared up, and out the door with Sarah and my dad. Paul and my brother talked briefly, then Paul came to me and hugged me. He left, saying nothing.
“Coffee?” I said.
“Sure.” So I made coffee, and we quietly drank it in the living room, a silence between us, which was not at all uncomfortable. I got up and put the mugs away.
“It’s good to see you, Abbs.” I stepped up to him, but, he put out a hand and held me back. “Abbs. You hurt us. You hurt us bad.” I felt tears well up. Okay, now it was going to happen. The other side of the welcome. I could live with it, I had to live with it.
“Abbs, things are out of balance. I am so happy to see you. You can’t imagine how much I love you. The same goes for all of us. All of us. We talked about your homecoming, you know. And that is why tonight is.
“You see. You caused a lot of suffering. A lot of it. Everyone was ready to forgive and forget, and just enjoy you being back. I was not. Am not. Don’t look away.
You face me, little girl. I was so angry at you when you ran off, and I was completely enraged how dad said you had to be allowed to find your own way back. I wanted to see him drag you back, and give you the licking you deserved. Wasn’t that insane! They never even remotely touched us, that way. But I was so mad!
“It took me a long time, but, I am not angry anymore.”
And somehow, that last sentence made my heart sink. He took a breath.
“Abbs. I think I am the only one of all of us who sees that you do in fact understand about that suffering. You know what you did. Totally unnecessary. I can see the guilt in your eyes, every time you look at dad.”
I hung my head. He was right, you know. That guilt was one thing that I had kept tucked away deep inside. As long as I didn’t come home, I was okay. Kind of. But, now I was home. I looked at him.
“Little sister. I know you feel sorry. Really sorry. But, that does not take care of your guilt, does it.” He looked at me. Of course, it didn’t. I began to tremble. I shook my head.
“So?” I could scarcely get the word out.
“So, a price has to be paid.”
“A price?”
“For the suffering you have caused. To us, and most of all, to yourself.” I looked up, bewildered.
“Price? Price? What kind of price?”
“Come with me.” He took me by the arm, and we went back into the kitchen. He turned a chair, so it was facing outward. He sat. And looked up at me.
I suddenly felt a terrible calm. I knew.

He reached out, undid my jeans, and drew down my jeans and panties.
He drew me across his lap. At last.
At last. Yes, that’s exactly what I felt.
It seemed absolutely inevitable, necessary, right.
I looked back at him. He reached out and stroked my hair, kissed his finger and pressed to my lips.
For a moment, as I lay quiet across his knees, the cool air on my bare flesh, I remembered how he had spanked me, when I was a child. How he had bent me over and smacked me, outside that very door, in that back yard.
This would be different.
“The price has to be paid for all the pain we have suffered from losing you. I have to do this,” he said, almost whispering, “for all of us, and for you, especially.
Without a real punishment, you will never be able to truly forgive yourself, and give yourself back to us. I went through hell when you disappeared, you know. You didn’t mean to be cruel to us over all these years, I know, but you have been, and in your heart, you know you have. (He stroked my back.) I am doing this because you need someone to do it, you know you do, because you need me to do this, because I am the only one who can, and because, baby sister, I do love you.
“And despite all I said, I have to tell you, because I do love you, you can say
‘no’.” I looked back at him. He had relaxed back, and was looking at me, his hands no longer pressing me down. I knew he was telling the truth, he always did, about everything. I could get up, and he would say nothing about it. He was truly giving me a way out.
I felt a wonderful lightness. I looked up at him, and said, almost inaudibly, “I’m ready,” and turned away, and waited. He leaned down, stroked my hair, once again, and whispered.
“This is going to hurt you so very much.”
And his hand stung my bottom. I gasped, and went rigid. And again. And again.
He spanked me very, very hard, steadily, slowly. I began to cry out, I started writhing. I had never been spanked like this, of course, never dreamed of it. I had only been spanked that one time, before. This was not like that at all. That was a quick punishment on a clothed bottom for a relatively minor indiscretion.
This was a kind of judgement. No. This was expiation.
As the slaps rang through the kitchen and the pain in my bottom swelled, in spite of myself, I panicked. I tried desperately to get away. I writhed, kicked, my arms flailed.
“Lie still!” I looked back, half-blinded by tears. I saw him shake his head at me, as if demanding some courage of me I could hardly imagine. I whimpered there before him, my bottom twitching. He shook his head, again, and looked at me with a grim resolve in his eyes. He raised his hand. I turned away, in despair.
He really poured it on, then. Over and over, faster, much faster than before, but there was no letup in the force of his blows, every slap burning and pulling a cry from me, as I shrieked, incoherently.
And on it continued, on and on, the spanks falling relentlessly, until I was limp over his knees, bawling, surrendering at last, to him, to all of them, to the punishment.
He suddenly cried out, stopped, turned me around, and held me tightly in his arms.

I cried hysterically, all sense of dignity gone.
I cried for mom, for dad’s loneliness over these years, for Don’s heartache. I cried for Maya, for depriving her for so many years of a family that loved her. I cried for
April. I cried for the lovers I had exploited, for Rick, for Brion. And I cried for me, for all I had denied myself.
And, yes, of course, and yes, you may chortle a bit, I cried for my poor behind.
And all through it, I felt Don’s arms around me, his hands stroking me.
I sat back, sobbing and hiccupping, and tried to speak, but the words would not shape themselves. He put his fingers to my lips, and I fell silent.
He smiled. So warmly he smiled. I had not seen him smile like that for a very long time. At last, I could speak.
“Suppose, I had said ‘no’?” He looked me straight in the eyes, his chest swelled, and he spoke quietly.
“You would not have said ‘no’. That’s not something my sister would do.” He chucked my jaw, so very gently.
“Now, go wash your face. And blow your nose, you look a mess, Abbs!” he laughed. And all at once, I found myself laughing too, filled with such an awesome… release.
When the others came back, I saw the adults looking at me. My dad stepped to me, and kissed my cheek.
“You guys have a good talk?” I nodded my head. Sarah took the kids aside, her hand gently touching my back as she passed. And Paul. He held me, and put his lips next to my ear, and whispered.
“I couldn’t have done it.” And I was aware that they all knew what had happened, probably were part of the conspiracy to bring it about. I looked at him, then grabbed his face in my hands, and kissed him, fiercely.
It was time for Maya to go to bed. Paul leaned down, and she put her arms around his neck, and he kissed her. I took her by the hand, and we headed for the stairs.
Maya stopped, and looked at me.
“Mummy, why are you walking so funny?” I heard chuckling from behind me.
“What do you mean…funny?” I blushed, and hustled her upstairs.