desertion

1

When I was little, I was moved around a lot. I would either be with my parents or I'd be with my grandparents. It was one of the two.

After Mom left, me and my brother stayed with Dad for about two weeks until we were sent to our grandparents. We lived with them for almost two years.

Christopher was too young to understand what was going on, but I knew exactly what was happening. Mom and Dad had an argument the day before she left. It was a big one too. I still can't get it out of my head to this day.

So, Mom left and I watched her walk out the door. She told me she was going to the store and she'd be back in an hour. I knew she was lying. She was playing with her sleeve. She always did that when she was lying.

I didn't stop her though. I didn't stop and say that I would like her to brush my hair before she left. I didn't say I love you when she left. I didn't say anything. I stood there like a dumb child.

"Lydia!! We're going to be late. Let's go!" Dad says from my doorway. I stand up, grab my backpack from the ground before rushing out of the door behind Dad.

Dad helps Chris out the house and I close the door behind us. We all get into Dad's truck before he pulls out of the driveway and starts driving.

I sit in the passenger's seat in silence as Dad and Chris talk. I look out the window, watching our surroundings. When I was 12, me and my mom got into a car accident. She had a green light and she was turning left, another car sped through the red light and hit us. They hit the passenger side which is where I was.

I got hurt the most. I had a concussion, a broken arm and leg. Luckily, Mom was okay. She just had a small concussion.

I'm not scared of cars, but I do always watch our surroundings. Just to be safe.

Dad pulls up at the elementary school and takes Chris inside. I watch him as they walk down the path that leads to the door. Chris has a big smile on his face. He's always happy.

I don't know how he does it. I don't know how he smiles all the time. I really don't. I used to be like that before Mom left. Gosh, I was such a happy child.

Mom leaving just messed me up. I don't want to blame her for everything that happened to me afterwards, she wasn't at fault. But sometimes, I can't help but blame her. She left me. She left us. She left me when I needed her.

The day she left was almost a year after the car accident. I still wasn't the same. I was messed up after that too. The car accident is where all of it started. The way Mom was crying for me and trying to help when I couldn't move or talk. I had to listen to her beg someone to help us because everyone was just staring.

When the paramedics came, I was falling in and out of consciousness. I couldn't keep my eyes open. It was too hard. I was too tired. The paramedics got me stabilized and they rushed me to the hospital.

They told me I was really lucky. They said Mom was lucky to have nothing but a concussion. It could've been a lot worse.

After hearing that, I became a really cautious person. I stopped talking a lot so I could listen. So I could be aware of my surroundings. I didn't get into a car for about two months because truly, I was terrified of cars then. I was scared it was going to happen again. I didn't like Dad leaving to do errands or something because I thought it would happen to him.

It terrified me. I hated it. I hated being so scared. I never told Dad or Mom how much it bothered me because they had enough on their hands with Chris. His cerebral palsy was getting more serious when the accident happened, they were both stressed to the brim.

I couldn't add onto that. So, I didn't. They did notice the change, they noticed how my smiles were forced, how my laugh wasn't the same. They commented on it, but I just shrugged it off.

"Lydia?!" Dad says, snapping me out of my thoughts. My head snaps towards him. He's in the drivers seat. I didn't hear him get back in the truck. Nor did I see him walk out of the school. "Did you pack a lunch?" Dad asks. I shake my head. "I'm just going to eat at school." I say quietly. "Okay.. are you okay?" Dad asks, looking at me, concern filling his eyes.

"Yeah. I'm okay." I say. "Okay." Dad says before pulling out of his parking spot and heading towards my high school.