The Interesting Lego House Tribe

The Night I Left Him

It was the summer after my freshman year. School had just gotten out. I was supposed to be enjoying a summer with friends, but I couldn't. You see, my dad and I had gotten into a huge fight. I was tired of being criticized by his new wife. Apparently, I have no friends, I'm never going to make anything of myself, my clothes are ugly, and I can't sing. I would never be good enough to fit her stereotypical mold. She said everything about me was wrong while he just sat by and watched. I don't know if he kept his mouth shut because he didn't care, or if it was because he agreed. Regardless, I often felt like he didn't care and I always tried to convince myself he did. Sometimes I would find myself believing all of the awful things they said to me, while other times I would fight it. One night my dad and I had a screaming match, it was like someone was paying us to volley insults back and forth, but mine were gentle taps and his were the kind that knock you flat on your ass.

I ran to my room, packed my bags in a rush, and called my mom. I waited alone on the front steps, just me and the dark of night. The warm summer air felt cold on my skin. A ghostly chill came over me like waves roll over the ocean, giving me goosebumps everywhere. My father begged me to go back inside. I didn't. I knew I would lose it. I would say something to hurt him and that was the last thing I wanted. I told myself none of it was his fault, he didn't realize how I truly felt despite the countless times I tried to tell him.

My mom finally pulled up and I sprinted to her car. I didn't know when I would want to talk to him again, if ever. He called that night, another screaming match. This one lasted until four o'clock in the morning. I didn't know that it was possible to be that sad or to cry that hard. My lungs wheezed under vice grip of emotion flooding my system. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, but I still tried to tiptoe around his feelings. 

I found myself screaming into the phone because that was the only way I could get any words out. I don't think I could even call them words, it sounded like I was squealing freaking whale language. We talked in circles. I could not tell him that his wife was the reason I left so I made excuses; "I just need some space, I have a lot going on right now, just give me a little time". I was so upset it physically hurt. It felt like a giant was squeezing its large fist around my body. Breathing hurt, talking hurt, thinking hurt. I just wanted it to stop. I didn't know if I would ever laugh, smile, or even be happy again. For the next three years I could probably count the number of real conversations we would have on one hand. It would take me years to rebuild my "Lego House".