The Monster Inside Me

It turned into a pretty good night, it was full of laughter and smiles. To be honest, I didn't expect that. Everyone was in a good mood. The persona of my father's house felt free, audacious but at the same time comforting and warm like a home should feel like; despite the mix-matched furniture my dad threw together and the boxes everywhere. This was something I haven't felt in a while. I could definitely get used to this.

After the ball welcome 2009 in NYC, all of us celebrate with champagne. I was shocked my father let Gabbie and I have a little. My mom is very strict about that kind of stuff. We all ran in excitement outside and screamed 'happy new years' except Gabbie and I. I've always been the quiet kind. i was shy, and I was always afraid of embarrassment and judgement. So I stood on the sidelines and watched everyone enjoy themselves. And don't get me wrong, I was enjoying myself also. I haven't had a day like this in forever.

What caught me off guard the most was when my father came outside with pans and smashed them together to make a lot of noise. He started to seem very free-spirited to me. Very out-going. Something I've always longed to be. Being shy and quiet isn't always fun.

At this point, I started questioning why my mother hated my father so much. He didn't seem like a bad person.

My mind went in every direction. How they're relationship ended on such a rough note baffled me. Isn't marriage supposed to be 'till death do us apart'? If something went wrong, well, clearly it did, I mean, why else would they fight all of the time? But why couldn't they have just worked it out? If you love someone, you should fight for them. but then again, is there such thing as love? Can you really find your apparent destined soul-mate and be inseparable forever? Maybe that's what happened to my parents. Maybe they thought they were soul-mates but as the years went on found differences between them two and wanted to go separate ways in life. Maybe that's why they always fought. But that doesn't explain why my mother hated him so much. She made it clear, too. She didn't mind if everyone knew. She'd lock him out of the house and then call the cops when he tried to get in. That is definitely not love. That seems more like hate. But I am in every way motivated to find out. I know it really isn't any of my business. But a child had a right to know why they're family broke apart. That sort of trauma, I feel, never gets resolved.

After New Years, it became an every other weekend thing, and every wednesday to go to my father's house, just as the visitation paper's said. Every wednesday we went bowling, and got take-out. Every Saturday we went to the movies. Fridays and Sundays we just watched movies, cook, and hang out. I began to really like going to my father's house. But at the same time, it didn't feel right. I felt like I wasn't supposed to be there. I felt I was making my mother mad. It bothered me. But when can I do? I'm just an eleven year old.