A Few Things You Need To Know
There are a few things you need to know.
That you deserve to know.
They aren’t going to be easy to hear, but I’m looking out for you. Because someone has to. Because sometimes parents get swept up in their own lives and forget that they have kids that they’re supposed to be preparing for adulthood, too.
Kids like you.
Taller than most 8-year-olds, you’re an active girl who loves books and makes a sport of chasing cats up all of the neighborhood trees. You’ve got routes that help you traverse the branches faster and you’ve found the perfect perches. Jumping down and landing without falling on your face is a feat that fills you with pride, and when you get it right, you run down the block, arms in the air like a champion.
You and your younger-by-one-year sister get along well, and genuinely love each other. She looks up to you, and you look out for her. Her hair is a lighter brown, while yours is the darkest shade of umber, almost black. More like your mom’s. You both have square faces, bangs, your dad’s rounded nose, and big silly grins on your faces while playing with your arsenal of dinosaurs and dolls.
In your eyes, your dad is the greatest person alive. Your fingers know his faded tattoo of the sun on his right bicep, and the scar left on the opposite arm from a vaccination when he was young. And they know the strands of his sandy blonde hair and the galaxies in his gray eyes. Your favorite thing is sitting on his lap on the couch while sharing salami, cheese and crackers. He drinks a beer and you watch The Simpsons together. He listens to your stories about classmates and the world and threatens to beat up your non-existent boyfriend. It all makes you giggle uncontrollably.
In your eyes, your mom is the most serious person alive. She gets everything done, but never seems to enjoy it. Her body never seems to be at rest. You have memorized her slate black, permanently permed hair, brown eyes, and uniform of high-waisted pants with polyester blouses. Your interactions happen mostly when she needs something from you, or is on her way to do something, or working. You don’t talk about your life or school or much else with her, but you know she loves you, in her own way.
You know all of the above. Here’s what you don’t know.
1. Your parents will separate in a year. You won’t fully understand what’s happening, but you will realize things have changed, and not for good.
2. There will be many signs before it comes to that.
2a. Late night fights, usually after they (wrongly) assume you and your sister have gone to sleep.
2b. Screaming. Lots of screaming. You will marvel at the fact that your sister slept through all of this.
2c. Thrashing of furniture. Throwing of lamps, books, and figurines at walls and on the ground.
2d. Your mom or dad not coming home at night, and the other making excuses for it, (i.e., “Mom had to work late,” or “Dad had to visit grandma,” etc.).
2e. On the worst nights, you’ll hear your mom wail after your dad has knocked into her. You will stumble into the living room in your pastel footie pajamas, rubbing your eyes to see bright lights, the house dark in a way you’re not used to, broken glass and your mom crying and grabbing you to make sure you don’t see anything else. By this time the cops will have arrived, and your mom will take you back to bed, where your brain won’t allow you to sleep.
3. Your father, a decade younger than your mother, will not be ready for the transition from husband to father. He prefers his freedom; prefers the ability to do what he wants, when he wants, while talking to anyone he wants. But he will go along with whatever makes your mother happy, even though his mind is anywhere other than stroller shopping, bassinet buying, or thinking about what kind of diapers you will eventually wear. He will get drunk at the bar often (your mom knows this; it’s where they met), ride a motorcycle, and still won’t be able to commit to raising children he may or may not love.
4. Your dad will hand you his lukewarm Budweiser on your concrete back patio at your birthday party on a warm July day. You will take a sip, as this is what you do with things your dad hands you. Your face will contort after drinking the bubbly gold liquid, and you’ll hand it back while sticking out your tongue. Your dad will laugh and walk into the kitchen, leaving you standing there confused. You won’t touch beer again for 12 years.
5. Your parents will never try marriage counseling.
6. You will be awakened in the middle of the night and shoved into the backseat with your blanket when you’re eight years old. Your mom will drive you and your sister to a woman’s apartment. You won’t know this woman, but your mom will insist that you all have to go there, to the address she found. You will cry and ask “why are we here?” Your cries will go unanswered. You and your sister will fall asleep in uncomfortable positions as your mom sits with the patience of a hound, eagle-eyed, waiting for any movement in the apartment above. The roar of passing cars, the headlights as they pass, and the droning buzz from the streetlamp overhead will stir you. You will never understand why your mom thought any of this was worth it.
7. Your dad will stay out all night one evening in the spring. He will come back after a few days, to a lot of questions from your mom communicated via desperate roars in an angry rage. He will be met with happiness from you, seeing as you’re a daddy’s girl. Your enthusiasm will go unnoticed. This will happen again, twice, each time with your mom getting angrier, yet always forgiving him in the end.
8. A few weeks later he will leave for good. He won’t leave a note. You’ll sit on the porch with your chin balanced on your skinned knees, waiting for his pickup truck to round the corner. After a few days, you and your sister and your mom will know it’s real. But you won’t really understand. In your mind he’s on a long vacation, on a trip, gone for work. You will understand this day a little better in about a decade’s time. It still won’t make sense, but you will begin to know the reasons why people stay, and why they sometimes go.
9. Your dad will not be physically present at the following events: First Communion, junior high graduation, basketball games, track meets, prom, Homecoming, first breakup, high school graduation, moving into college, college graduation.
10. Your mom will not be emotionally present at the following events: First Communion, junior high graduation, prom, Homecoming, first breakup, high school graduation, moving into college, college graduation.
11. Your mom will wait ten years until filing for divorce. She will work a full-time job selling health/life/disability insurance. Full-time will not end at 40 hours a week for her. She will become a people person for her clients. She’ll have her act together. She will embody the word “hustle.” She will drag you and your sister with her to appointments when family can’t watch you. She will work mornings, days, evenings, weekends, and holidays. She will not take breaks. She will still visit your grandma every day to make sure she has everything she needs. She will support you until you move away after college.
12. Your dad will take on false names, move from state to state, and work under the table in order to evade the police and avoid paying child support. Eventually, he will be tracked down and served papers. The severance that has been so palpable in your family for a decade will be legal and binding.
13. You will resent your father for what he’s done to your family, but you will learn to numb those feelings over time. Not with alcohol or drugs or the usual clichés, but with sadness that develops into anger that transitions into numbness for this ghost of a parent. This pain will only resurface when you see fathers interact with their young daughters on the street and you’re immediately brought to tears. You will want to tell those daughters how lucky they are.
14. None of this will be your fault.
Dawn Quinn lives and writes in Seattle, WA. She is currently at work on a collection of essays. Follow her on Twitter @yellowdresses.
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