You broke my heart when I was 10 years old.
I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a normal Friday. I saw your red Toyota pull up to the bottom of the driveway and dad sent me, my brother and my sister out the front door. He never walked down to talk to you. You broke his heart a long time ago. My sister is crying and my brother is pleading to stay and I’m quiet, as usual. I’m the only one that you haven’t hurt yet.
When I get in the car you smile as if you are actually happy to see us. As you pull away I see dad waving us goodbye crying, as he does every other Friday when we have to leave. This Friday is different though because you just moved into a new house with your new boyfriend to start your new life. The house is a lot farther than the old one and it’s in the middle of nowhere. We pull up to the log cabin house and you open the garage door where I’m greeted by two Harley Davidsons and a cat named Ridalin.
I don’t even know who you are anymore.
The house is pretty nice and has tall ceilings. We’re all snooping around to get familiar with the layout and the smells, like dogs. When we get to the kitchen we look at all of the pictures on the refrigerator. Our refrigerator at dad’s house is stainless steel and we can’t have any magnets on it, so a fridge with magnets and pictures is so fun for us to look at. To our surprise, we see a ‘save the date.’ It’s a picture of you and your new boyfriend, Bill. You’re getting married.
“We didn’t want to tell you until we saw you” you say.
We all nod with fake smirks because we know the truth. You didn’t tell us because you thought you had finally gotten rid of us.
After we get settled in we started making zucchini pie. It’s the only thing you really knew how to make but it’s absolutely delicious. My brother and sister are still really upset about the wedding, so they’re hiding in their assigned bedrooms until the weekend is over. I can’t be mad at you. I know deep down you're trying, or at least I hope. You put the pie in the oven and raise your eyebrows as you point to the room next to the kitchen.
“I have a surprise for you” you say.
You cover my eyes and guide me to the room. When you take your hands away from my face I see our Nintendo 64 from our old house and my jaw drops.
“No way” I say.
“Wait, it gets better” you say as you pull out Mario Party 2, our favorite game ever.
Without hesitation we put the game in the console and start playing. You pick Peach and I pick Yoshi. If my brother and sister were playing they would pick Bowser and Luigi, but we have to play with two robots instead. Occasionally throughout the game you would put your face really close to mine and I would wait a few seconds and then open my mouth really wide like a big, happy smile. It made you laugh so hard every time and it made me so happy. I had no idea I could still make you laugh like that.
In retrospect, you were probably high.
We hear a ding and the timer is up for the zucchini pie, so we force my brother and sister out of their rooms and start eating. Bill is eating his dinner with a glass of milk, which just made me look at him as an even bigger child than I already did. You talk to Bill the majority of dinner, but for a brief second you look at us and say,
“I have a meeting at seven that I have to go to and you kids have to come with me.”
None of us say a word because we know exactly which meeting you have to go to and we can’t believe you're making us go again.
We begin walking towards this weird, big building that matches the gray sky. My sister and I have knitting needles and yarn in hand and my brother has his Gameboy. When we walk in you tell us to go sit in the corner, and then you immediately start hugging all of your “friends.” None of them acknowledge us and you completely forget about us for the hour that we’re there.
Typical for a recovering, narcissistic alcoholic.
As the meeting ends we see you talking with a man. You're really close and giggly and touchy with him, I’m not sure Bill would approve. We leave the corner so we can get out of this creepy place and once we get to you I drop my knitting needle. The floor was concrete so it made a really loud, obnoxious noise. As I frantically pick it up I hear the man say,
“These your kids?”
“No” you chuckle,” I’m just babysitting.”
That was it. My big, brown eyes that look exactly like yours were wide open and lost. I was looking at you, but you were a stranger now. I understand now why my dad cries, why my brother pleads, and why my sister hates Fridays.
When you tuck me into bed you start singing the lullaby that you made up for me and have always sung to me since I can remember. Usually I sing along, but tonight I just stare past you, and pray that it ends soon so I can sleep this weekend away and go home.
It’s Sunday now and your red Toyota is finally at the bottom of the driveway that I so gladly left on Friday. I say goodbye to you and run into the house into my dad’s arms and cry. That was the last time I saw you.
Two moves and eight years later, I’m sitting in my senior year art class. This is my favorite class because its painting and I have it with my best friend. I put the finishing touches on my oil painting of a rose for my grandma and pack up for lunch. While we’re waiting for the bell to ring I feel my phone vibrate. It’s risky to check it because my teacher is really strict, but no one ever texts me during school, so I have to look. The number isn’t saved in my phone, but it’s familiar. I have it memorized. It’s you.
The text reads, “…”. My heart sinks. Eight years go by and you think ellipses are going to undo all of the damage you have done. I never answered. That text changed my life. It was in that moment that I knew I will do whatever I can in this lifetime to be nothing like you.
I will be kind. I will not be a coward. I will love my brother and my sister and my dad the way you were supposed to and more. I will always be honest and selfless and a good person.
I will be nothing like you.
