The door creaked open. I was surprised to see my dad step into my room. For a moment, I thought that all of my fears and doubts had been unfounded, and that he really had been at a work function that was keeping him away from home for the last several days. I thought that maybe he was coming into my room to apologize for missing my graduation, and that now we could go out to dinner as a family. I had turned down an invitation to a party that Ben was going to in the hopes that my dad might come home tonight. Now I was glad that I had.
But then I saw the look on my dad’s face. His brow was furrowed, his lips curved downward. He tucked his hands into his pockets. Any words of greeting that I had for him died before they could get past my lips.
He sat down on the end of my bed and stared down at the floor for a minute. Rocky stretched, stood up, and walked over to him, tail wagging, but my dad ignored the dog. I watched him, waiting for him to say what he came in here to say. It was a while before he finally spoke.
“Your mom said that I should talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About what’s going on.”
I wanted to point out that not even my mom had talked to me about what was going on, but I was afraid that if I did, he might change his mind and not tell me either. He sighed, and then continued.
“Your mom and I are getting a divorce. I want you to know that this has nothing to do with you. Your mom and I— We just can’t make it work anymore. We thought it would be best if we went our separate ways, so I, uh, I got a job in Montana. I came back to get my things, and I’m leaving tonight.”
I fought the quiver that I felt in my lip. He had always told me that boys shouldn’t cry, and even though I was angry with him, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“What about me?” I asked.
“You’ll stay here with your mom.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Why can’t I go with you?”
“Your mom needs you here.”
“Will you come back?”
He was quiet for so long that I knew what the answer was before he spoke again. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I think that it would be best if I make a clean break. Things with your mom are just… I wasn’t going to come back at all, but I needed some of my things. You know I’m not good at saying goodbye.”
It occurred to me that in the time that had passed since he sat down on my bed, he hadn’t looked at me once. He still hadn’t looked at me when he stood up again and left the room. Rocky followed him into the hallway, wagging his tail even though he hadn’t been acknowledged. I felt jealous of the dog, so blissfully unaware of how uncaring my dad was. When I heard the front door slam, I knew that it was over. My mother had packed his suitcase so that he wouldn’t have to be here any longer than the few minutes it took to tell me that he wasn’t part of our family anymore. I locked myself in my bedroom for the rest of the night.
I was angry. Mostly at my dad, but also at my mom for allowing him to leave like that. There were so many cruel things I could have said, but I knew that she was hurting too, and I didn’t want to make things worse. I couldn’t call Ben because he was at a party. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell him, anyway. I looked at Naomi’s letter on my nightstand. Writing about a hangnail seemed so immature, so stupid, so inconsequential. Then again, none of our letters ever had any substance. We had been writing to each other for almost four years, and it was all stupid, petty, mean, and boring.
I wondered if she looked forward to these stupid letters like I did. I wondered if it would hurt her if I stopped writing back. I wondered if she would comfort me if I opened up to her, or if she would only make fun of me for being anything but mean or boring.
Dear Naomi,
I hope that at some point in your life there will be someone you love and respect more than anyone else, if there isn’t already. I hope that you think you can count on this person to always be there, and you can tell him anything. And then I hope that one day he decides to leave, and he doesn’t even give you the choice to come with him. And he won’t even look you in the eye when he tells you that he’s leaving. He won’t tell you that he loves you, and he won’t even say goodbye. He probably never really loved you, and he’s fine with not saying goodbye because it was all an act, and the joke is on you for believing it.
You have plenty of good memories with him, but he just shits all over them. Now you can’t remember the good times without also remembering the way that he left, how he wouldn’t even look at you or tell you that he loved you, because he didn’t. Because you’re such a shitty person that you don’t deserve a real goodbye. And you’ll be left wondering, for the rest of your life, if the people who claim to love you really do, or if it’s all a lie and they’re just going to leave one day like he did.
Don’t be surprised if I don’t write another letter to you. This is stupid.
Bye.
Luca
Dear Luca,
This must be the tenth time you’ve said that you’re not going to write to me again so I don’t really think I believe you. But just in case I don’t hear from you again, I want you to know that if anyone ever did those things to me, it would be because he’s a shitty person and he doesn’t deserve me. Not the other way around. And if I saw someone treating one of my friends like that, I would kick him in the balls.
Love,
Naomi
