Choosing Life

Chapter 2

It was my brother's birthday, and we had been celebrating all weekend. Both of us were very excited since it was one of the rare times when we would all go as a family to a favourite restaurant of ours. My mum had just gotten back from work, and we were all getting ready to go there. I loved going there, not only because of the beautiful food, but because a huge part of its appeal was its location. It was located near the beach, and this beach was one of the few where you could see the sunset fully in Sydney.

We were all driving in the car, and both our parents were in quite a good mood. I took a few selfies with my little brother, making silly faces, then quickly deleting the photos. We were talking about our lives, catching up on the new things that were happening. Once we got there, with minimal arguments, we went upstairs, and enjoyed our meal of salad, seafood marinara, steak with mashed potatoes and gravy, chips, bruschetta, baby octopus, and more. It ended up being about $120, but it was worth it. Our whole family was together, and we were enjoying ourselves. Of course there were a few arguments and things, but it was better than usual. Everyone was making an effort to try for my brother's birthday.

Afterwards we walked on the beach, looking at the sunset, taking photos of each other. Once the sun set, and the wind was too cold, we went back into the car. Then we decided to go to a desert place. And this is where it started to get bad. Once we got there, there were so many nice things to choose from. But whilst eating, my dad asked about Honolulu, one of the many places that my mum regularly flew to because of her job. I've always wanted to go there, but then my mum said that if he wanted to go then he would have to pay full fare, and wouldn't be able to use her staff discount.

From then on it got worse, my mum and little brother went outside, whilst me and my dad stayed, finishing the desert. My dad was annoyed that she wasn't going to let him use her staff discount to take me to Hawaii, since it didn't cost her anything. After a while, my brother came back, complaining about his sore stomach. We quickly left, having already paid, and walked back in the night to the car.

My mum was lecturing my little brother the whole way, talking about how he shouldn't have over eaten and stuffed himself. My dad was telling her to be more sympathetic, that he just go too excited. Driving back was horrible. My brother was screaming at everyone to be quiet, that it was making him feel even more sick, my mum was blaming the boys, my dad was saying to stop, and it was just overall too noisy. Then my mum told my dad to stop the car, that she would walk home. My little brother begged them not to, but it didn't matter, mum wanted to get off, and dad didn't want a distraction whilst driving. So she got off, twelve blocks away from the house, having to walk in the dark. My brother was crying hysterically begging her to come back, asking my dad why he let her get off.

I acted like it was better this way, safer. We stopped a few metres from where we had dropped her off, my brother crying for her to come back. As soon as she saw us, she went the opposite direction. I tried to act like it didn't affect me anymore, mum was going to get back, just a bit later than us. But late at night, when I was alone in my room, with only the dark to comfort me, I cried into the pillow. I let the silent sobs rack over my body, let out the emotions that I always kept inside. I tried to be strong, but I just let myself break down, crying myself to sleep.

The next day our parents sat down with us and told us that it wasn't working for them anymore, it was just too hard for them to be under the same roof. My dad was going to be renting out a place with a flatmate, and we were going to stay with mum in the house. Then on weekdays mum would look after us whilst dad worked, and on weekends dad would come look after us whilst mum worked. They tried to tell us that it was better this way, that it didn't mean that they loved us any less. My mum told me that my dad would always be my dad, and that he was a good dad, but just not a good husband.

It was hard. I knew that this was going to happen, and at least they weren't divorced. But instead of being able to talk to both of them when I needed them, ask for advice or homework help or anything, I just couldn't. And I guess from here on I became worse. Not that they really realised for a while. My mum wasn't very good at technology, so i would always be able to do whatever I wanted. Messing with the home computer, putting on controls, etc.

I never woke up early, I just slept in all the time. I kept asking to go out with my friends. I wasn't that bad, but I wasn't as good as the girl that I used to be. My parents raised me well, and before fighting, they used to always dote on me, reading me books, and ensuring that I grew up with perfect manners and intelligence. My friends' parents would always love my manners, and family friends always commented on how well-behaved I was. Growing up I was still quite well-behaved, but I felt more self-conscious and shy, and at the same time more daring and spontaneous. They didn't notice when I started to give more attitude, when I started trying less with school. Because even though I tried less, I still got my marks.

When I graduated school, I was ecstatic. I was actually glad to leave the school where I had gotten bullied by my friends, cried in the bathrooms, then acted like everything was fine. I was happy to leave and have a fresh new start, make new friends. I graduated with the dux award (Academic Excellence), something that my friend never forgave me for, and closed that chapter of my life. I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter anymore. Although if I really told the truth it still did.