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Chapter Three

"Sometimes when we think the worst has happened.

Our experience lends us another pair of eyes to see with.

Our new vision may or may not lead to new decisions.

But whatever happens, we'll know that at least, our hearts still beats."

AJ Collins.

Moments after my father left I spent days, weeks, months even, crying and trying to understand why?

For me, it was like experiencing an heartbreak except that it was a lot worse.

On certain occasions, when I was by myself at three in the morning feeling like I was running out of tears, feeling like it's been forever since I've seen my pillow dry, it would be then that I'd feel my mother's arms around me.

And I'd cry even more as she told me severally that I'd never be alone, because it hurts a lot more when the one who comforts you is that exact person you pushed away.

It hurts a million times more.

Flashes of every moment when I'd seen her crying after an argument with my dad would come to mind and I hated myself for always thinking it had to be her fault. I hated myself that I didn't love her half as much as she loved me and I hated myself more that I had no reason for it.

But it did get better.

As time passed by, as I grew into a young lady, I began to see my mother for who she really was; a strong woman who loved with all of her heart, a woman who would do absolutely anything just so her children could get the best in life.

A woman I grew to adore without limits.

And it wasn't until my father left that I learnt how to properly function as a family unit, with Michael and my mum.

Laurel, my best friend, had quickly become a part of that family as well. In fact, that girl spent more time at my house than she did at hers.

So with time, I finally had my family of four. My functional, no tag teams, family of four.

But things didn't automatically fall into place or become perfect.

As a family, we were strong. But as individuals, we lived in denial. As individuals we equated to broken pieces.

A denial I blame for Michael's reluctance to apply to the university despite completing sixth form almost two years ago.

The first year, he had mentioned wanting to figure things out and decide what major he wanted to take. So instead, he stayed around and helped mum out occasionally at the pastry shop we owned.

But the year after, he claimed;

"I don't think university is a priority for me right now."

But the truth was, even if he had decided what major he wanted to take ages ago, we probably wouldn't be able to afford it.

The pastry shop barely made enough to cover our expenses.

But no one said anything.

Because no one ever does.

Actually, it had quickly become an habit in the Collins' household or a coping mechanism as far as I was concerned.

Sometimes, I got the idea we were all afraid to say something that would anger the other. Because after all, my father did leave some open wounds, open wounds with really deep cuts.