Believer's Melody

I was frozen. Shocked. I stared at my mother, not blinking. “Why?”

“Well, your father and I have grown apart.” She said it casually. Almost with the same tone she’d use if she were telling me she was going out to get some groceries. She was trying to make it seem like it wasn't that big of a deal.

“So, you’re getting a divorce.” I said slowly.

“Yes.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I thought you two loved each other. How could you grow apart?”

There was a deep breath, followed by a long sigh. “Honey, it’s something that kids your age don’t understand yet.” She reached her hand out to place it on my shoulder, but I jerked it away.

“I understand.” The cold numbness I had been feeling was gone. I could feel the anger bubbling furiously inside of me. “I understand completely that adults are nothing but idiots!”

“Sweetie, it’s for the better. You’ll understand once you get older.”

That was four years ago. Four years ago was when my parents suddenly came to the conclusion that they did not love each other anymore. Just like that, everything came to an abrupt halt.

I used to think that if two people truly loved each other, no matter how many bad things happened to them, they would still continue to love each other until the end of time. After the divorce, I started to question whether there even was such a thing as true love. My mom told me that I would understand once I got older, so I became anxious to grow up. I wanted nothing more than to grow up and become an adult so that I could understand. I stopped playing House with my friends, because I thought it was silly and childish and because it always involved a perfect family. With a mom and a dad who would always love each other and their kids and stay together forever.

Instead, I stayed home and read books, thinking that the more books I read, the more knowledge I would get. And the more knowledge I’d get, the more I’d understand. I had always loved reading, but I wasn’t reading for fun anymore. I never read any types of fiction, especially fairytales. I loathed the fairytales. Everything always ended happily, and it made me sick.

My friends called me a party pooper and shook their heads at me when I sat on the bench to read a book on chemical compounds while they went on a roller coaster. I didn’t care, because I believed I was years more mature than they were. While they were having slumber parties and talking about boys, I spent my nights reading out of algebra textbooks.

When we got into high school, my friends went to parties. But I prepped for the future, searching for colleges and learning about SAT’s. It didn’t take long for my friends to stop inviting me to parties and sleepovers so that the only time we saw each other was in school. I didn’t care though, because friends were definitely not my first priority. They were somewhere around the bottom along with parties and boys.

By the time I was sixteen, I believed that mentally, I was already an adult. I was already taking college classes, I had a job. But no matter how much I read or studied, I still couldn't understand.

One day, my little sister, Tabby, came in dressed in a sparkly fairy princess outfit she had begged Mom to buy for her. She pranced around, waving a rhinestone covered plastic wand. Then, she jumped on my bed. “Look Robin! I’m a fairy! I can grant you three wishes with my magic wand!”

I set my book down and rolled my eyes. “Tabby, magic isn’t real. And even if fairies were real, they wouldn’t grant wishes. That’s genies.”

“Well, then I’m a fairy princess genie!” Tabby said with a great amount of fervor. “And magic is real, you big stupid head!” Then, with one toss of her little head, she marched out of the room.

I scoffed at my little sister. She was so childish, so young, so immature.

I was like her once.

Once, I actually believed.