Out_of_the_Devil_39_s_Cauldron

I often wonder in the back of my mind if my dad ever took time out and sat with me and did the
same things I stopped to do with my daughter—because I have no memory of such things.
When Amanda was two years old, I got a tattoo on my arm of an angel with her name on it. But
my daughter disliked the picture on my arm.
“Daddy, the angel is naked,” she said one day, pointing her finger at my arm. “Please put
clothes on it.”
“It’s supposed to be that way, Amanda,” I said.
And she said, “No, Daddy, take it back to the man that did it. Tell him to put some clothes on
the angel.”
I burst out laughing, because all her sayings were cute and innocent to me. She made a pouty
face, and I just grabbed her and kissed her and told her, “One day you will understand why Daddy got
the tattoo, because this is how much he loves you.”
Apart from our nighttime round of demonic activities, my wife and I lived a normal life with
our daughter. We looked like the all-American young couple, living the high life and destined for
good things. But already cracks were forming in the foundation of our marriage.
There were many weekends that Mari and I did great things together, but other times she
started going out with her friends while I stayed home with Amanda. We had an agreement that some
weekends she would go out with her friends and I would stay home with Amanda. But when I wanted
to go out with the guys, she would start a fight because she didn’t want to be left home by herself with
our daughter. To solve this, we got a babysitter, but now when we went out we went our separate
ways—she with her friends and I with the guys. We agreed to get home by the same time, no later than
four in the morning, which worked out very well for a while.
One night it was my turn to go out; Mari had gone out the night before.
As I sat on the living room sofa channel-surfing, she came and stood right in front of me, her
hands on her hips. “You need to drive me to the grocery store today so I can buy some things for the
house,” she stated flatly.
I leaned around her and continued staring at the TV screen. “You know how to drive, so drive
yourself. I want to rest up a bit so I can go out with the guys tonight.”
“So the guys are more important than our marriage? Is that how it is now?”
“You know that’s not so!” I shot back. “But you also know it’s my turn to go out tonight. I’m
going to rest, so if you want to buy some stuff you go out and get it yourself.”
“You know what, I change my mind. I’m not gonna get anything for the house. You can get it
yourself.”
“What do I care?” I said, rising from the couch and throwing the remote on the sofa. “Leave it
the way it is. It makes no difference to me.” I turned around, went into the bedroom, and slammed the
door shut.
That night I stepped out with my friends, and even though I had a good time, I still had Mari
and Amanda on my mind. I couldn’t be at ease knowing they were at home alone, because I loved
them both. These thoughts rushed through my mind: You’re just like your dad . So that night, instead of
coming home at four in the morning, I walked into the house at 2:30 a.m. As I turned into the room,
both of them were sound asleep. I kissed them both and went to sleep on the couch.
The holidays were upon us, and Mari and I agreed that on the weekend we would take some
time out to go Christmas shopping to buy some gifts for our families. She chose items for her
relatives, and I started to pick out gifts for my family. But she thought my family should get gifts for