Personal Experience
Uploaded by lonely12 on Jun 14, 2001
I walked into the house from basketball practice at six pm. The remains of the vase that was on the stand beside the door, lay at my feet. The furniture in the living room was tipped and topped over and anything fragile had been thrown and had shattered. Mother sat on the bottom step crying, her arms a mass of cuts and gashes.
"What happened?" I practically yelled. I ran over to Mom and threw my stuff down beside her. "What the hell happened?"
"Your dad and I got into a fight. He left," she said sympathetically.
"Where? Where'd he go? What happened?" I still didn't have any answers. "Did he leave a number? Anything?"
"No. He went to Gainsville. He was pissed. Calm down, Ashley," she was in no condition to deal with me. But at 10, I was selfish and didn't care.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door. The ceramic elephant that was on the shelf two minutes ago, now lay on my floor shattered. I threw everything my mother had given me on the floor and jumped onto my bed, balling. I blamed him leaving on her.
The next morning, I sat up in bed and blinked. My dad was sitting on the foot of my bed, looking at the remains of the elephant. I thought I was dreaming.
"Daddy?" I asked, totally clueless.
"Yes, Sweetheart. I just came by to ask you something. Your mother and I are splitting up. Would you like to live with me or your mother?" he was very direct about it all.
"You!" I almost shouted loud enough for Mom to hear.
"Ok. I'll come by to get you at 7 tonight. Be ready," he got up and kissed my forehead then left.
That evening, at seven o'clock, I was all ready to leave. He didn't show up. He didn't show up the next day, the next week, the next month, or the next year. I'm 13 now, and my Dad still hasn't come for me.