Status: Never give up. You are enough.
No One Said It'd Be Easy.
Two.
Eight years old and in third grade, it was Easter Sunday and I knew something was wrong. I just...knew. My parents had been acting weird for a long time and I knew what was going to happen.
We were a family of four. Mommy, Daddy, Sissy, and me. I was the youngest. My sister and I are three years apart and we never got along as kids. We lived in a two story "family home." It had three bedrooms, two bath and a basement. My parents lived in the basement, and my sister and I lived upstairs in our own rooms. Then the spare room was our play room. My dad worked a lot and I barely knew him as a kid. He was out "working", or in "Eric" talk, that means "screwing younger, breastier woman". He cheated.
That morning I woke up and went across the hall to the bathroom. I loved the imprint on the wall, right next to the mirror, besides the sink, there was an ink print of the shape of a tooth. It had been there ever since we moved into that house when I was two years old. I loved that little ink mark. No one knew how it got there. My mother said it was the "tooth-fairy". My sister said a ghost put it there. And my father, he had no opinion because I doubt he even knew it was there.
I twisted the golden doorknob and walked out of the bathroom and turned left into the living room. I looked out the front window and saw Mommy and Daddy hiding Easter eggs, fighting. This was normal in our household. Shouting, screaming, crashes, things breaking. It happened, and it happened a lot. I turned away from the window and ran into my sister's room where she was sitting on her bed listening to music. I asked her what Mommy and Daddy were fighting about, but she shrugged me off. I was used to this. So instead of crying about it, I walked calmly into the play room and turned on the karaoke machine and sang along to P!NK. All of a sudden, over my favorite verse: I'm comin' up so you'd better get this party started, I'm comin' up, I'm comin', I heard the front door slam. I peeked open the door to see Mommy crying. I cried too. I didn't know why Mommy was crying and I didn't like seeing her cry. I laid down in the bed in the play room and cried until I had no more tears left.
At eight years old, I didn't know what was wrong with my parents. I didn't understand when they told me they were getting "separated" two days after Easter. But one thing I did understand was "divorce".
I was in the back seat of Daddy's L-Camino when I found out. He was on the phone with Mommy. We were driving to McDonald's for a Kidz Meal. It was right after school and I didn't feel like staying at Kid's Club with my mom. She was the person that ran Kid's Club. So I used her phone to call my dad and he picked me up and agreed to take me up the street to McDonald's. On the way there though, Mommy and him were arguing about something unknown to me, so I kept quiet. My ears perked up when I heard Daddy say, "Where am I going to go until the divorce is final? I can't live with my mother, she lives two hours away!" Yada yada yada blah blah blah. Divorce was what I understood and I didn't know why my parent's wanted to hurt me. I thought I did something wrong at the time. I thought it was because I only got a Satisfaction rather than an Outstanding on my report card. Or maybe it was because I had too many pairs of shoes. I didn't know what, but I knew it was me. I didn't even cry when I heard that seven letter word, two syllables, and not one tear.
I was eight years old when my family fell apart. And I was nine when I found out why.
We were a family of four. Mommy, Daddy, Sissy, and me. I was the youngest. My sister and I are three years apart and we never got along as kids. We lived in a two story "family home." It had three bedrooms, two bath and a basement. My parents lived in the basement, and my sister and I lived upstairs in our own rooms. Then the spare room was our play room. My dad worked a lot and I barely knew him as a kid. He was out "working", or in "Eric" talk, that means "screwing younger, breastier woman". He cheated.
That morning I woke up and went across the hall to the bathroom. I loved the imprint on the wall, right next to the mirror, besides the sink, there was an ink print of the shape of a tooth. It had been there ever since we moved into that house when I was two years old. I loved that little ink mark. No one knew how it got there. My mother said it was the "tooth-fairy". My sister said a ghost put it there. And my father, he had no opinion because I doubt he even knew it was there.
I twisted the golden doorknob and walked out of the bathroom and turned left into the living room. I looked out the front window and saw Mommy and Daddy hiding Easter eggs, fighting. This was normal in our household. Shouting, screaming, crashes, things breaking. It happened, and it happened a lot. I turned away from the window and ran into my sister's room where she was sitting on her bed listening to music. I asked her what Mommy and Daddy were fighting about, but she shrugged me off. I was used to this. So instead of crying about it, I walked calmly into the play room and turned on the karaoke machine and sang along to P!NK. All of a sudden, over my favorite verse: I'm comin' up so you'd better get this party started, I'm comin' up, I'm comin', I heard the front door slam. I peeked open the door to see Mommy crying. I cried too. I didn't know why Mommy was crying and I didn't like seeing her cry. I laid down in the bed in the play room and cried until I had no more tears left.
At eight years old, I didn't know what was wrong with my parents. I didn't understand when they told me they were getting "separated" two days after Easter. But one thing I did understand was "divorce".
I was in the back seat of Daddy's L-Camino when I found out. He was on the phone with Mommy. We were driving to McDonald's for a Kidz Meal. It was right after school and I didn't feel like staying at Kid's Club with my mom. She was the person that ran Kid's Club. So I used her phone to call my dad and he picked me up and agreed to take me up the street to McDonald's. On the way there though, Mommy and him were arguing about something unknown to me, so I kept quiet. My ears perked up when I heard Daddy say, "Where am I going to go until the divorce is final? I can't live with my mother, she lives two hours away!" Yada yada yada blah blah blah. Divorce was what I understood and I didn't know why my parent's wanted to hurt me. I thought I did something wrong at the time. I thought it was because I only got a Satisfaction rather than an Outstanding on my report card. Or maybe it was because I had too many pairs of shoes. I didn't know what, but I knew it was me. I didn't even cry when I heard that seven letter word, two syllables, and not one tear.
I was eight years old when my family fell apart. And I was nine when I found out why.