It was a cold January night, I was in my room with my sister. Covered up with blankets, listening to the very loud screams. My room was medium sized, but it was filled with things. Two twin beds, a dresser, a night stand, and a chest. I couldn’t sleep because of them. Why? Why is this happening to me? I thought.
“Get out, get out, leave now!” my mother yelled.
“I’m getting something.” my father said.
“I dont care, dont get anything just go!” she kept yelling.
We heard them coming towards our room, so we quickly covered our faces. We didn’t know who came in, we didn’t even want to peek. I felt someone heavy sit on my bed and I instantly knew it was my father. He was husky, he had a little hair on his head, he had a mustache, his complexion was a caramel color, my father was very handsome. As I looked up at him I saw that his eyes were glistening. He looked as if he wanted to cry, but he wasn’t because he wanted to stay strong for us. He’s strong, very strong. Not like me.. thoughts were just running threw my head. 14 years together and they’re just giving up. I just couldn’t believe it.
“I’ll come get you every chance I get.” he said.
But I couldn’t hold it in any longer, i started to cry uncontrollably. In my long sleeved pajamas, messy hair, red eyes and stuffy nose I was very cold. So I hugged my father and sister, then we suddenly heard my younger brother start to cry. He’s not going to understand! I thought. My father got up to go check on him and there was my mother to yell at him. My mother on the other hand was very, very light skinned, almost white. Her hair was down to her back, and her body didn’t look like she had 3 kids.
“Don’t even touch my son!” she screamed.
“He’s my son too, and I can what I want!” he shot back.
“I don’t care, I told you to get out!”
Right then and there I got angrier at them for arguing in front of us. I was only 7 years old, my sister was 8, and my brother was 5. My dad didn’t care he got up and went to my little brother. He kissed him on the cheek and carried him into our room. My father sat on the bed and just looked at us. What is he thinking? Is he going to tell us something?
“What?” said my sister.
“I want to take you with me.” he replied.Then suddenly my mom came storming in to the room. She was ease-droping, she had to be. She started to yell again.
“You can’t even take care of yourself and you want to take them?”
“Since when? Since when couldn’t I provide for my kids?”
“You’re always out and never want to give them your time, its not always about the money!” my mother just kept on going. In a way I was on her side because he was always out and never had time. She was right, although my mother looked like a crazy lady, she had on a dressy shirt, pajama pants a messy bun and she was not crying. She only wants the best for us, but why is she doing it this way?
“MOM!” my sister yelled. I couldn’t believe she had the courage to speak to my mother that way we respected our parents so much, and we were raised that way.
“Stop talking to him that way!” she yelled again.
“Oh really, so you’re on his side about it?” Sides? Sides. Sides! We were taking sides. We were so young taking sides, mommy’s girl, daddy’s girl. In my mind I didn’t want my father to leave but that was what was best for us. So he could see what was really going on. 10 minutes later, my father kissed us goodnight, tucked us in and was on his way. I didn’t cry again. And threw out the whole time the saying in my mind was “Be strong at all times, and when times are bad be even stronger!”