Chapter 2The Stranger I Know

My father stared numbly at my mother, at her desperate, crazed face. His gaze flickered to me, a flash of pain and love in his eyes. A moment of hesitation.

But it was only a moment.

He turned away, his expression resolute. He pulled a duffel bag from the closet and began to pack, his movements stiff and mechanical.

My mother snatched me back from the window in a panic. I scrambled into the bedroom and buried myself under the covers, my body wracked with sneezes. The door to their room slammed shut.

The walls in our old apartment were thin. I lay there, my eyes wide open, staring at the door.

My mother’s hysterical sobs echoed through the wood. "What did I do wrong? Tell me, and I'll change. I can change."

My father sighed, a sound heavy with exhaustion and resignation. "You're a good person, Sarah. It's me. I'm the problem."

"If you're the problem, then just die! Why are you divorcing me? I will never let you destroy this family."

Then, silence.

I listened for a long, long time, but heard nothing.

Fear, cold and sharp, coiled in my stomach. My heart hammered against my ribs. I threw on the first clothes I could find and fumbled with their doorknob.

My father was lying on the floor, as still and lifeless as a fish washed ashore. My mother was tearing at his clothes, her kisses, mingled with tears and snot, landing on his chest like frantic, desperate pleas. When he saw me, a wave of shame washed over his face. He pushed her off and turned away to straighten his clothes.

He stood up, his face a blank mask, and picked up his bag. He patted my head, a light, fleeting touch, and then he walked out the door.

Without a shred of hesitation. His expression never changed. He was calm, unmovable, weathering my mother’s storm of pleas and threats with a quiet resolve.

This was a departure he had planned for, and longed for, for a very long time.

I knew, as he stepped over that threshold, that he would never come back.

And deep down, I think my mother knew it too. But knowing, and accepting, are two very different things.