Chapter 5: Shattered Bonds

A couple days later, my dad called me. His number popped up, and I hesitated before answering. My heart raced.

"Savannah, your mom wants to divorce me. Can you talk to her?" His voice was tired and hoarse. He sounded older than I remembered. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him.

"Dad, you’re both adults. I won’t interfere. Just let me know the result." I kept my voice even. I didn’t want to get involved.

"Savannah, how can you be so cold? We’re your parents. Don’t you want us to stay together?" He sounded hurt, but I didn’t care. I was done being the peacemaker.

"No matter how cold I am, I’m not as bad as you. We’re in debt, barely scraping by, and you’re still borrowing from credit cards to lend money out."

"It’s just a thousand! You and your mom really think we should divorce over a thousand? Does our relationship mean so little?" He sounded desperate. I almost laughed.

"You’re missing the point, Dad. It’s not about the amount. It’s about you lending money when our family’s in debt. That shows Linda means more to you than Mom."

"That’s not fair—" my dad tried to protest. His voice was shaky. I cut him off.

"Has Linda ever worn socks with holes? Does her family only eat meat once a week like us? In what way is she worse off than us? You remind me of when I was a kid and you took my half-finished milk and gave it to my cousin because he cried. Do your own family always have to suffer for outsiders? If so, I’d rather not be your family. And you still don’t get it—Mom wants a divorce because she’s had enough of you sacrificing us for others. The thousand this time was just the last straw."

"Savannah, you can’t be so petty. And you’re still holding on to that milk thing from years ago? Don’t be so small-minded—"

I hung up before he could finish. I didn’t want to hear any more excuses. I was done.

A week later, my mom called to tell me she’d divorced my dad. Her voice was steady, but I could hear relief underneath. I felt a strange mix of sadness and hope.

I was surprised it happened so fast. I’d thought my dad would never agree. He always seemed so stubborn. I guess even he had a breaking point.

"He slept in another woman’s bed. Even if he didn’t want a divorce, she wouldn’t let it go," my mom sneered. Her voice was bitter, but strong. I was proud of her.

I was stunned. My dad cheated? The thought seemed impossible. I didn’t know what to say.

I never expected that. I’d never liked him, but I had to admit he wasn’t the type to fool around. He was too honest—almost dumb. I shook my head in disbelief.

"With who? Linda?" I asked tentatively. My heart pounded. I braced myself for the answer.

"Yeah," my mom replied softly. The word hung in the air. I felt a strange sense of vindication.

So I was right—it was probably Linda who made the first move. I pictured her in her faded sweatshirt, eyes always a little too bright. I almost felt sorry for her.

My mom told me what happened. She spoke slowly, as if the words hurt to say. I listened, not sure what to feel.

One night, Linda said there were mice in her house and asked my dad to help. My parents were still fighting about the loan, not speaking to each other. Still, my dad went over as soon as she called. He was always eager to help.

He’d never been so eager to help anyone. He grabbed his toolbox and left without a word. My mom just watched him go.

That night, he didn’t come home. The house felt emptier than usual. I lay awake, listening for his footsteps.

The next morning, people saw him leaving Linda’s house. They whispered behind their hands, watching from their porches. I felt the shame burn my cheeks.

Now, everyone knew he’d spent the night there. The gossip spread like wildfire. There was no hiding from it.

When he came home, my mom didn’t even look sad. She just slumped on the couch, exhausted. "Now you can’t keep clinging to me. If you don’t want a divorce, Linda won’t let you go. You slept with her—you have to take responsibility, right?"

"Carol, I—I don’t know what happened," my dad dropped to his knees, desperate. "She made me dinner to thank me for catching mice. There was a bottle of whiskey. I drank too much—I don’t know what happened. When I woke up, I was in her bed."

"Whatever you say, the fact is you slept in her bed and spent the night. The whole neighborhood knows. Let’s just divorce and be done with it," my mom said. Her voice was flat, emotionless. I admired her strength.

My dad collapsed on the floor, sobbing for the first time, completely defeated. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. I watched from the doorway, unsure how to feel.

They divorced quickly. The paperwork was signed in a week. I was surprised by how fast it all happened.

"Don’t worry, Savannah. I didn’t lose out. We had no savings to split, and your dad didn’t take the new condo or the old house," my mom sighed. "He actually showed a little backbone this time." She managed a small smile. I smiled back.

I was surprised. I thought he’d keep the old house, but he walked away with nothing. He left his keys on the counter and didn’t look back. It felt like the end of an era.

"After Linda found out, she screamed at your dad, but it was too late—the property was already signed over. You know what he told her?" My mom laughed bitterly. "He said, ‘From now on, it’s just you and your daughter. It’s not easy for you two.’"

The "you two" he referred to used to mean me and my mom. The words stung. I blinked back tears.

I remembered how he always said, "It’s not easy for them," after giving something away. I never thought one day my mom and I would become "them" in his eyes. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

Turns out, his compassion was only for outsiders. Once we weren’t his family anymore, we finally got his concern. It was almost funny, in a sad way. I laughed, just a little.

Being his family was just bad luck. You never got the best of him—only the leftovers. I was done settling for scraps.

"Mom, are Dad and Linda together now?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. I could picture them sitting at her kitchen table, pretending to be a family. The thought made me shudder.

After all, he now called me and my mom "them" in front of her. The line had been drawn. I wondered if he even noticed.

"Everyone saw them spend the night together. People talk. Your dad thinks he should take responsibility. Plus, he still has a job and works hard, so Linda figures he’s at least useful. For all those reasons, they’re together now." My mom’s voice was resigned. I nodded, accepting it.

She said that after the divorce, if she ran into Linda at the grocery store, Linda would cling to my dad’s arm and call him "our Rick" with pride. She’d flash a smug smile, daring anyone to judge. My mom just walked by, not even glancing at her. She held her head high, refusing to stoop to their level. I admired her for that.

Strangely, I felt a bit of schadenfreude. Linda hadn’t realized yet that being my dad’s family was no blessing. She thought she’d won, but she had no idea what she was in for. I almost felt sorry for her—almost.

He only cared about outsiders. Once you became family, you were invisible. I wondered how long it would take her to figure that out.