Love is an illusion

2

20 May 2005

Nearly ten years had passed since the day Rowan was born. "Jane!" my mom screamed from downstairs. I usually ignored her when she called my name, especially since it was often just for tea or idle conversation. So I stayed focused on my essay, unbothered. But then I heard unfamiliar footsteps coming up the stairs. After years of living with strict parents, I had learned to recognize everyone's footsteps—Mom, Dad, even Rowan. But these sounded different. Curious, I stood up, opened my door, and was startled to find an old man standing in front of me.

"Who are you?" I asked, confused.

He blinked at me for a moment before stammering, "I'm... your mother's high school classmate." He hesitated, clearly nervous. "Uh, I was just looking for the bathroom," he added, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"It's downstairs, to the left of the front door," I replied, feeling unsettled.

"Ah, thank you. Nice meeting you," he said abruptly before hurrying away.

I watched him leave, a strange feeling gnawing at me. Something about the whole encounter felt off. As soon as I heard the front door close, I ran downstairs, my unease growing.

"MOM!" I called out, louder than usual. She glanced at me but didn't respond.

"Mom, who was that guy?" I asked again, but she ignored me, busying herself with something on the counter.

"Mom!" I shouted a third time, and she finally turned to me, looking annoyed. "He's just an old classmate from high school," she said casually. "I ran into him the other day, so I invited him over for some tea."

Her explanation seemed forced like she was trying too hard to sound nonchalant. But I didn't press any further. Mary Sterling has always been a cold woman. I shrugged it off and went to bed. We didn't have much money, so naturally, Rowan and I shared a room. We didn't have a lot, but we were a happy family—at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Later that night, I woke up to the sound of my parents arguing again. It was nothing new—they fought constantly, and it was almost always about money. My dad had been struggling to find work ever since he lost his job at the logistics company earlier that year. Rowan and I tried to be understanding, but Mom was growing more and more frustrated. She has been on the edge since became jobless. I mean she has a point, but given the circumstances, there is not much to argue with Dad.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from downstairs. Rowan sat up, wide-eyed. "Be quiet," I whispered, and we crept to the stairs to see what was happening. I peeked first to make sure Rowan wasn't seeing inappropriate things.

Mom had thrown something—maybe a vase—at probably Dad. They were in the middle of a heated argument. Like usual, so decided to go backstairs until I heard something that would send down chills in my spine.

"Then let's get a divorce!" she yelled, her face twisted in anger. I wanted to shout at Mom so badly, but I knew I wasn't supposed to do that.

"Katie, please... just give me more time," Dad pleaded, sounding desperate. "I'm trying. I just need a little more time, and I'll find a better job." He tried to explain his intentions to her, but she was shaking her head while laughing.

"And in the meantime, who's going to feed us?!" Mom shot back, her voice dripping with frustration. "I'm not going to let my daughters starve because you can't get it together."

Dad's shoulders slumped, defeated. "Why are you making this so hard?" he said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I just want to start over."

"Then let's do it. Let's get the divorce," Mom said coldly. There is something about the expression on her face, that there is more to this "I want the divorce because you're jobless" and for all that matters, I don't want to know.

Winter and I exchanged looks, both of us frozen in place. What was going to happen to our family? A million thoughts raced through my mind—anger, confusion, sadness, all swirling together.

The next few days were eerily quiet, and a month later, Mom and Dad sat us down. I could already sense what was coming.

"Jane, Rowan, listen carefully," Mom said. Her tone was serious, almost businesslike. "We've decided to get a divorce," She said abruptly. And I saw those big tear drops forming in Rowan's icy blue eyes.

My heart sank as I heard the words. "Why?" Rowan asked while crying and, her voice trembling. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I want to live with both of you," I blurted out, unable to stop the tears from streaming down my face.

Mom's expression was hard as she spoke. "Things just aren't working between us. It's for the best to go our own way."

Dad sat quietly, his face etched with pain. Eventually, we were forced to make the hardest decision of our lives. Choosing between which parent you want to have custody of you.

My choice has always been pretty clear, since I could remember I have always been a daddy's girl, so I chose to stay with Dad, while Rowan decided to live with Mom. They moved out as soon as they could. Mom and Rowan went to live with Grandma Winny so they could search for their own house.

Sometime later, I heard from relatives that Mom had remarried—to a wealthy man in LA. The news was a punch to the gut, though part of me wasn't surprised. That strange encounter with her so-called "classmate" kept replaying in my mind. It made sense now—Mom had been seeing someone else all along. Oddly, Dad and I never talked about this matter.

Dad and I stayed in our old, shabby house. Life wasn't the same after the divorce. The emptiness of the house without Mom and Rowan was overwhelming. Even though Dad found a new job at a management company, it wasn't like before. I missed my family—especially Rowan. But somehow, we carried on.

Years passed, and I graduated from high school and went off to college. I was accepted into NYU's nursing program, and though the work was gruelling, I made it through. College was a fresh start for me. I made new friends, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like my life was whole again.

Before I knew it, I had graduated and began searching for a job. That's when I met him—the person who would change everything.