i was awakened at the crack of dawn by a loud slam. it was my parents' bedroom door. then i heard it open with a dramatic jerk. no, you don't walk out on me when im talking to you. you don't get to close the door on me, jon. it was my mother, highly distraught (as usual). her emotions, her grief, her desperation were bubbling over and foaming out of her mouth. i quickly crept closer to the door so i wouldn't miss a word. my mom and dad's relationship was like a car accident, or scary movie to me. i so did not want to know what was going on. i knew i would be better off without hearing or seeing the details. Yet, it seemed i couldn't help myself. Like a little private eye, i was collecting all of the evidence and piecing together the whole sordid story.
you don't get to creep into the house at this hour without even an explanation. are you listening to me, you ungrateful bastard?
i heard another crash, like glass hurdled at a wall.
libby, stop it, please! that was my dad. back in his patient, calm voice, he continued...
i don't want to do this anymore. i can't pretend.
i cracked my bedroom door open to get a glimpse of my personal soap opera, The Old & Dramatic. my mother had resigned to the first step of stairs, sobbing uncontrollably. she really did look like an middle aged stunning soap star in her silky pink robe and pin curled hair. my father was still dressed in his slim suit and carrying his briefcase.
you're out of control, libby. i'll give you some time. i'll be back later this evening for my things.
asshole! was my mother's reply as dad disappeared down the narrow staircase and into his car. it had become clear to me about six months ago that my mom and dad had serious problems. as far as i could see, it started with a cloud of tension that would hang in the air like a threatening storm. but just like the unpredictable weather in the suburbs of philly, the sun would shine through as if there had never been a problem. it was easy to convince myself that nothing was wrong. that feeling was either in my imagination or was something all families dealt with on a bad day. later on, there would be major, gigantic fights over the dumbest, miniscule things. World War III could erupt from something as simple as why my dad was late picking me up from play practice. Or why my mom was calling his job when he told her he would be in an important meeting. These altercations would always lead to screaming at the top of parties involved's lungs for hours, lots of door slamming and dish throwing. Major Drama! The worst was yet to come, though. mr. preston, my social studies teacher, calls it the Cold War. this is when my parents refuse to speak to each other. not one word. if my mom needs my father to write out a check for something important, she will write it on a Post-It and hang it on the fridge. if my dad needs my mom to run some errand, he tells me to tell her. Until tonight, our status at home had been the Cold War era.
it was easy to deduct my mom suspects my father of cheating. i suspected the same. he was definitely different. it was like he was here but not here, if that makes any sense. at the same time, i could truly understand how dad might feel the need to flee from mom. on most days, i want to escape myself. she can be...well, overbearing. i think its because she doesn't have that much going on. she doesn't have that many friends anymore. she doesn't have a job either. mom says that she use to be an assistant for a very important man in showbiz. she says that dad was jealous so she gave it up to take care of us.
my mother ws still lamenting (i suppose) on the top of the staircase so i came out. i didn't know what to say, really. i hoped that by the time i got close to her i would have an answer but i didn't. she was sitting with her hand holding her head up in defeat but she tried to gather herself when she felt my presence.
oh, sherry...i didn't know you were up. i was just, i hope you didn't hear that.
not much, i said even though i had heard more than enough. of course, she realized this. my mom looked up at me as if she didn't recognize me, the real me her daughter. her eyes seemed to see something new but familiar to her.
he is such a jerk, sherry. she said quietly how did i end up marrying such a big jerk?
i didn't know. was dad a jerk? wasn't sure how i felt about that assumption. up to that point, i thought i felt all men who cheated were jerks. mom was crying silently, beautifully. drops of sorrow fell from her angled cheekbones. i shrugged.
i know he's an asshole but i don't want to give up. im way too tired to start over again, ya know?
i nodded although i knew she would always do fine, no matter what the circumstances.
mom turned to me with purpose.
sherry, never sacrifice who you are for any man. its NEVER worth it. her sapphire eyes grew wide with panic. promise me.
i shook my head but she didn't appear to be satisfied. i promise, mom.
ok, get back to bed, hon. you have school in a couple of hours.
i hugged my impossible mother, feeling actual sympathy for her. in bed, i closed my eyes knowing that i would be awakening not to a loud crash, but a new day, a new life.
