Breaking Emily

Before

~ Before ~

I was six years old when it happened. When my father just got up and left.

Being so young, I remember it very faintly, but still, I remember. How could someone forget something like that anyway?

It was late July, the weather for Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania being perfect for a day to go out. Dad and I were supposed to go out for lunch, just us two. I had taken one last look in the mirror, my brown curls shiny and bouncy, just as Mom had intended. My outfit was perfect. Bright pink shirt, white jacket, denim skirt, and brown boots. The outfit, I thought, was so me.

But turning the corner of the hallway, I froze.

Dad was holding a luggage bag, his feet planted firmly in the doorway, and my mother pulling on his arm. She had tears streaming down her face.

“Michael, please.” she begged, “Don't...”

He shook his head.

“I can't stay here, Audrey.” he said.

“Who is she?” Mom whispered.

Dad was silent.

“Michael, who is she?” she snapped.

“Someone that I need to be with. I hope you understand...”

“I could never understand!”

My dad turned his head toward the hallway, and his eyes met mine.

I was sobbing as he shook his head and turned toward the door.

“Daddy, no!” I screamed. I ran to him and grabbed onto his leg, pulling him back.

He started to shake me off of his leg as he kept walking.

“Honey, get off.” my dad said calmly.

“No!” I cried, “Why do you have to go?”

He didn't say anything. Instead, he put down his luggage bag.

My eyes lit up.

He reached down and took me off of him, and set me on the ground.

He picked up his bag and proceeded.

“No!” I screamed, throwing my arms out and hitting him as hard as I could.

“Emily, stay right there and do not come one step closer to me!” he screamed.

I froze suddenly and stared at him for a few moments.

That was first time my dad had yelled at me.

That was the last time he had spoke to me.

That was the last time I saw him.

He turned the corner of the driveway, and he didn't look back.

I never saw him again.