Life could be better… Part 1

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’ve been better.”

I honestly have been better, perhaps a long time ago, but it hasn’t gotten better at all.

I found out something I wish I never knew about in the first place. Maybe if I never knew about it, I wouldn’t have such a heavy force weighing down on my chest and shoulders. 

I found out my father has been cheating on my mother for about two years now. I was devastated, disgusted, ashamed, and above all: shitty.

He apparently has been seeing her since eons ago and met her through work. She’s a young, Vietnamese woman who just entered the workforce. Her name is Hannah. She’s shorter than me, (I’m 5’2), and has a short, black bobbed haircut with caramel highlights. 

I found out last Tuesday when I came home from school. I was supposed to stay after school to take an exam for a class I missed due to me seeing a guidance counselor on a different matter. I decided against staying after and apologized to my teacher and I told her I had to go home. I had a bad feeling as I boarded my bus home. The entire ride home I felt sick, it was some sort of sign of what was to come. I got off the bus and begun to walk towards my house which was quite the walk away from the bus stop. I unlocked my phone and opened the garage door using my phone. I closed the garage door and opened the main door to enter. 

It was dead quiet when I entered.

I took my shoes off and began to walk up the staircase to my room to place my stuff down. During all of this I was grounded and I assumed I was still getting the silent treatment, but I was wrong. I placed my stuff down and sat at my desk. My father, the one who grounded me, came up behind me and he was teary eyed. He hugged me, kissed my forehead, and walked out. I was beyond confused. My mother and father are conversing in their bedroom with the door closed. I assumed they were discussing my punishment once more. 

My younger sister arrived home an hour after me and came upstairs to greet my parents. They gave her a warm welcome, and then kicked her out of their room, to which I didn’t just hear talking but arguing. Arguing turned into screaming. I was scared, but I had to intervene.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, go do your homework and close the door behind you.”

I did as I was told. I closed the door and leaned against the door. I slid down and curled into a ball tying to listen to their conversation. Eventually the door opened and my mother called me and my sister into the room for my father to tell us something. He looked at us and turned away, hanging his head in shame. My mother then said:

“You have to tell them because I’m not going to explain after you’re gone.”

I looked at my mother confused, and my sister who is 4 years younger than looked even more baffled.

After you’re gone?” 

Then everything clicked. My father was leaving us because he did something terrible.

“What do you mean mommy?” Said my younger sister.

“You’re dad is leaving us.”

She broke into hysterical tears, she didn’t know why, but the thought of our father leaving was to great for her to handle. My father came to her and hugged her. I was confused. He let go of her and came towards me to hug me as well, but I took a step back and stared at him. 

“What did you do?” I asked.

He turned away from me and walked down the stairs and I heard him open the garage door below and drive off.

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