Getting Separated From My Sister
This is Part III of my mini series on divorce through a child's perspective. These are my true experiences, with the hard-to-read details left out. If it resonated with you, please comment and upvote!
Read Part II here: How Me And My Little Sister Got Kidnapped
Read Part I here: Our Family Collapsed: A Prologue
My body tensed as I stepped closer to the school’s front office. I had passed it a few times on my way to class, but I had never been inside.
In my first 10 or so years, I was truly a good kid-- quiet, shy, and never caused any trouble. The thought of confrontation made me tremble with anxiety.
Bravely, yet cautiously, I skulked through the door and took a seat, waiting for the principal to speak to me. Which, to my surprise, he greeted me with a smile and escorted me to his office.
Mr. Principal got behind his desk, and I sat down pondering what I was called in for. He sternly asked, “Do you know why you’re here?” I shook my head no. He chuckled, and jokingly, assured me I wasn’t in trouble. This confused me even more, yet it put me at ease for a brief moment. What he said next that stunned me.
“You’re leaving early today,” he said, “your mother is here for you.”
My mind panicked. Why is she here? What is happening? Where is my sister?
I began to sob, tears welled up in my eyes.
Mr. Principal very discouragingly had a try at consoling me, by saying something along the lines of, there there. He patted my shoulder and offered to walk me to my locker to fetch my belongings. We walked past the classrooms again, and I looked through the doors to see if my sister was in one of them. The school bell rung as I grabbed my backpack and pencil box. A rush of students filled the halls, and as they trampled I tried to find my sisters face among them. The principal gestured to escort me out of the building.
Holding back tears, I bravely walked outside as the other students got back to their classes. A slightly familiar lone Jeep is parked in front, but it wasn’t my mom’s car. The window rolls down, and I see my mom and her boyfriend beckon me to get in the car. Marching towards them, I look back at the elementary school one last time. It’s getting to be too much. As I open the car door, and get in, the frenzy comes flooding back. I burst into tears. I glimpse at my Mom with heartache, and her eyes were flowing too... Only her tears were different, because they were blissful.
“Why are you crying?” she asks, “Didn’t you miss me?” I sniffed, not knowing how to respond. In shock, I softly wept as we drove off. I felt defeated. My child mind struggled to comprehend the last few months, let alone what was presently happening. They attempted small talk, and pretended everything was normal. At a loss for words, I said the first thing that came into my mind. “You’re on drugs,” I groaned. They both looked at each other and silently gasped. Mom’s boyfriend gravely turned and glanced at me, keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “Lies have been told,” he said to me.
Who was lying? Who was telling the truth?
You have managed to make tension. The story makes me a bit thoughtful and sad.
Keep on going!!!!
Powerful, Un-indulgent and succinct. Speaks to all the helplessness an adolescent feels having no control over their own lives and the tyranical unchecked power a parent has regardless of their qualifications or motivations.
Wow, thank you for the response! That one is going on the back of my book.