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Marie Richards

My parents think I'm handling their divorce really well. They tell me how mature I am, and how much they appreciate my good attitude. They tell me I'm strong.

But I'm not.

Lord, don't they know I'm angry? Angry at them for seeming so weak, so selfish. They could make it work if they wanted to, if they really tried. But they won't try. They say they've just "grown apart." But I think they've just grown tired of each other.

Don't they know I'm terrified? Once upon a time they promised to love each other forever. But they didn't even make it 20 years. And I can't help but wonder if they'll slowly stop loving me too.

Don't they know I'm feeling guilty? "It's no one's fault," says my mom. Yeah, right. Everything is someone's fault. Maybe I was too demanding. Maybe I was too self-centered. Maybe I took up so much of their time and energy, they didn't have any left for each other. Maybe if I'd have been a better kid, they would've had a reason to stay together.

Don't they know I'm ashamed? I see my friends' parents at our basketball games. They're sitting there together, like a family should. But my parents aren't there. They don't want to see each other, so neither one of them shows up. I have to ask for rides home because no one's there to take me.

Don't they know I'm frustrated? My friends are planning a party this weekend, but I can't go. It's my weekend with Dad. This Christmas, when everyone else was psyched about vacation, I was dreading the shuttle—a few days here, a few days there. Some nights, I wake up and can't remember whose house I'm at.

Lord, don't they know I'm lonely? I hardly ever get to see my grandparents now. And I miss some of my friends, the ones we used to go on vacation with. Now it's "Dad's friends" and "Mom's friends." There is no more "our friends."

Don't they know I'm worried? I've heard the stepparent horror stories. What if one of them gets married again? Will I have to get used to someone else telling me what to do? Will I have to share my room with some stranger? Will I be able to love my new "mom" or "dad"?

Don't they know I feel stupid? How could I not see this coming? Couldn't I tell Mom was spending more time at work? Couldn't I see how they hardly looked at each other during dinner? Couldn't I hear the stifling silence that crept into our house?

Lord, don't they know I want my family back? Somedays, I imagine Dad walking in and telling Mom how much he misses her.

I imagine her running into his arms.

I imagine us all laughing together, talking about all our great memories, wondering how we ever thought we could live apart.

Don't they know I'm tired? Now, I'm the one who has to babysit my little sister when Mom's got a late meeting. Now I'm the one who makes dinner three nights a week and does the laundry and cleans the bathroom. Now I'm the one who's got a part-time job to help pay our bills. Now I'm the one who has to act like the other parent.

Don't they know I'm scared? I feel like I can't really trust anyone anymore. I lived in the middle of a storm and never saw it. What else is going to crash around me? My friends? My future? My faith? How can I count on anything when the most secure thing I knew crumbled out from under me?

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