The Living Fantasy (On Hold)

Pasts & Parties

Chapter 8- Pasts & Parties

When I step through the door to the apartment, my ears register the sound of my father's sobbing, but he's not in the living room or in the kitchen. Cautiously, I tiptoe around a corner to find his bedroom door closed. Most people would try to comfort him, but I know better than to do that. Instead of speeding to my room, I pause to listen to his cries.

"She left me..." he says, his voice faint, "SHE JUST GOT UP AND LEFT ME!" The sound of something crashing to the floor brings me back to reality, and my brain yells for my feet to run.

Hurriedly, I peek behind my dresser to find the book wedged in a dusty spot between my dresser and the wall. My hands snatch it from its secretive spot, and I peek my head out the doorway to check if the coast is clear. My dad remains in his room crying when I make a quick dash from my room to the front door.

As I walk down a few steps to the sidewalk, I exhale, letting go of the stress that suddenly built up inside. I'm determined not to get another beating, so I have to avoid it the best I can. Today it seems like he's more sad than angry, but his hurt can turn into anger in a split second.

The words he was speaking let me know the reason why he was sad--Dad was thinking about my mom. I don't remember much about her; in fact I don't even remember what she looked like. I've seen several pictures of her though, and I've noticed that I have her strawberry blonde locks. My looks definitely resemble hers, and I know that it bothers Dad. I know that when he looks at me, he thinks of her, and Dad feels regret.

My father didn't treat her like he should've for years, so one day she had enough of it, leaving him behind. My mom made sure that she lost all contact with my dad in order for her to never see him again. When she left, my mom took my eight-year-old sister, Lizzie, and left a five-year-old me with Dad.

Years ago, I wondered that if I ever had the chance to meet her, would I even want to? Quickly, I realized that the answer is no. That woman is as careless and selfish as my dad for leaving me with him. She knew what he was like, so why would she leave me with him?

I understand that she probably didn't have enough money to support herself and two young girls, but wouldn't she want the best for me as well? The smart thing to do would've been to put me up for adoption or try to find a relative that'd help take care of me. Instead, she left one of her daughters with the troubled man she grew to despise. For that, I despise the woman.

Once she left, Dad became more violent than he ever was when my mom was around, and I was left to fend for my own.

Sometimes I'll imagine how my mom and my sister's life is like now. Most of the time I imagine them in a cozy, neat home in a welcoming neighborhood where it's peaceful. Now, my sister would be off at college so the house would feel a tiny bit vacant, but my mom would enjoy the quiet. I picture her as a stay-at-home mom, and she'd welcome her husband home from work with a kiss and a nice home-cooked meal.

I imagine that she has not a single care or worry in the whole wide world, and that she's living a perfect life. She's probably forgotten all about her past now, and I'm probably a mere sliver of a memory that'll only pop in her head every few years.

Other times, I'll picture how life would be like if my mother took me with her. Wow... what a thought. All these scars and burdens that I carry wouldn't exist, and chances are that Dad would either be dead or in jail.

A tear trickles down my cheek, but my fingers wipe it away quickly. I make sure to toughen up and not let another tear fall, and my brain shoves away the thought of what my mom did and how much trouble she caused me. As long as the ideas and thoughts are locked up tight, they won't hurt me.