|


|

The International Writers Magazine:A Child's perspective of
Divorce
|
When Families
Divide
Keren Arnold
This
is what I remember.
I was in the study, which wasnt really a study, just a spare
room full of all the junk that never seems to fit anywhere else,
the computer, which seemed more obsolete with each passing day,
and a sofa bed, for when guests stayed, normally after parties.
Not that there had been many of those lately.
|
|
I was playing on
the ancient computer, one of those old Atari games which always conjure
up a happy sense of nostalgia, even now. My father came into the room,
and tentatively sat down on the sofa-bed. I didnt turn round.
Id like to think that I knew what was coming.
I was eleven years old, and felt I understood what was going on. I didnt
know the half of it. I had only a few memories of my parents being happy
together, and none of them were recent. My dad had a new job in London,
coming home at week-ends, and his bed had been the sofa in the lounge.
No one had made an issue of this, and I wasnt about to. As a child
I craved normality like my peers craved sweets and toys. Id listen
to my friends talk about where theyd gone at the weekend with
their parents, or an amusing anecdote from the dinner table. My parents
had long since stopped going anywhere together, even for my sake, and
the dinner table was a minefield, to be negotiated with extreme caution.
One wrong step and chaos would ensue.
Strangely enough, I always felt most at ease once it happened, somehow
the silences and snide niceties were the things that became most unbearable.
"Alright Lu?" My Father asked, bringing the computer screen
back into focus. I nodded slowly, without taking my eyes off the screen.
He cleared his throat. "Um, you know Lu, how me and your mum dont
really get on anymore dont you?" I had noticed. The screaming
fights, the tense, false pleasantries in public, the vicious whispers
when I was around, normally with my head in a book on the sofa. Theyd
silently follow each other out, and shut the kitchen door, as the words
on my page blurred together. "Um
.suppose." I replied,
still concentrating on the game. I wasnt about to make this easier
for him. I didnt see why I should.
"Well, how would you feel about us getting a divorce?" The
vocalisation of the word struck me hard, I swallowed and the tapping
stopped momentarily, but after a pause, I resumed.
"Fine." I said, calmly.
"Ive found a house
in London," he continued.
"Oh. Cool."
"Are you sure that youre alright with this Lu?"
"Yep." I replied. "Fine."
He stood up, clearly relieved, and smiling he ruffled my hair, and left
the room as quickly as possible.
When my mother came into my room that night to say goodnight she asked
if I had spoken to Dad. I nodded and smiled. When she hugged me she
held me for longer than usual. I resented her at that moment. I resented
her pity, and I resented the fact that she clung to me like a child,
lost and alone. She was supposed to take care of me. Now she looked
as if she was the one who needed help.
© Keren Arnold December 2004
Keren is a Creative Writing student at Portsmouth University
Just Me
Keren self portrait
More Lifestyles
Home
©
Hackwriters 2000-2004
all rights reserved
|