“Oh lord, I’ve had enough of these people out here.” My father said,
“I can’t stand when you act like this,” my mother responded almost instinctively.
“If you can’t stand me so much, why’d you want to be married, huh! ”
Silence.
For the rest of the car ride home from my younger brother’s tennis match, the car was silent. No radio, no whispers between me and my siblings, just the sound of the tires rolling on the pavement.
Once we got home, my dad, Ted, demanded that all of us go up to our rooms to get ready for bed. While brushing my teeth, I could hear the muffled sounds of my mom and Ted arguing with each other outside. My little brother, startled by the chaos, quietly slipped into my room so he could distract himself. After what felt like forever of arguing, the noise had eventually died down. I could hear my mom’s frustrated footsteps stomping into the house while she threw the door shut behind her. Seconds later I heard the sound of Ted slamming his truck door shut and peeling out of the driveway. After hearing the screeching of his tires, my mind started racing. Where is he going? Why did he leave? They couldn’t just talk it out?
These questions hung in my mind as I was trying to fall asleep, haunting me.
Waking up in the morning, I woke up with a feeling of relief, like nothing had ever happened the night before. Until I walked into the kitchen to see it lacking my father and his morning coffee. The memories of the night prior came back like a flash flood had just gone off in my brain of how Ted left the house leaving behind feelings of confusion and sorrow. From then on out, all I could think of was the piercing sound of the tires screeching out of the driveway.
Throughout the day, I couldn’t get past that Ted, my very own father, just up and left like it was nothing. No goodbyes, no notice, just gone. My mind wandered more and more about the possibilities of where he went. Eventually, I decided that I should just move my mind on something else. That was until I saw my mom’s car waiting to pick me up, where I had to contemplate whether or not I could build up the courage to ask her about what happened last night.
When I opened up the door, I smiled at my mom and said “hi,” as I always do. But she didn’t say anything, just kept her devoid stare straight forward. The next 20 minutes were brutal, where again I was in a car in pure silence. This time, there was a different atmosphere in the car. It wasn’t like the tension that filled the car the night before. Instead, it was filled with dread. This confused me at first until my mom finally opened her mouth and said.
“Last night, when your dad left the house, he died.”