T H E T U S C A R O R A R E V I E W 2 0 2 3 3 7 “Alright. Let me help you out with that.” he replies after letting out a sigh. “The CDs are over in the corner.” As we go around the house looking for my mom’s belongings one by one, we don’t talk at all other than about the task at hand for a while. I’m surprised that he’s so willing to help me out with this, considering that I was so cold to him earlier and how poor his relationship is with my mom. After a few hours, everything on the list is checked off. My father didn’t so much as complain at all about any of the items the entire time, contrary to how my mom thought that this would go. I appreciated that, as I was worried that he’d get upset and make this whole experience even more uncomfortable than it already is. My father, noticing how late it’s gotten, heads to the kitchen and offers to make me some dinner. I honestly didn’t even know that he was able to cook. I had been too anxious to eat lunch earlier, so I accepted. While we sit at the table eating, my father finally decides to break the silence. He starts going on this long winded rant about how he hadn’t been a good father or husband, and how he regrets not being there for me or my sister. This exact talk was what I had been trying to avoid most. I don’t resent him for his absence in my life, and I don’t want an apology, I just don’t have any urge to form a relationship with him now. So I tell him exactly that, to which he seems to understand. After dinner is over, I go back upstairs to my room, where I read some more until I eventually fall asleep. The next day, I wake up feeling a little bit less anxious at the very least, and it feels as though my father and I have come to some sort of understanding. He leaves me alone throughout most of the day, and I feel a lot less uncomfortable about approaching him whenever I need to. I was even able to ask for some help on my Geometry homework, which he was surprisingly good at. The rest of the weekend passes and before I know it, my mom’s car pulls into the driveway to pick me up. My father helps me bring out her belongings to place in the trunk, and his mere appearance earns him an icy stare from my mom. As I ride home back to my normal life, I can’t help but to feel at least a little relieved as to how the weekend went. I still have little to no feelings towards my father, but I’m glad that we were able to at least have a civil conversation by the end of the weekend. I have a feeling that I won’t be dreading next month’s visit quite as much as I was this one. Author Information: I was inspired (with permission, of course) to write this piece from a friend’s unfortunate situation with divorced parents. It is only very loosely based on their arrangement.
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