Babies, Romance, Fighting, and Overall Crap | Teen Ink

Babies, Romance, Fighting, and Overall Crap

April 15, 2015
By Anonymous

I was supposed to be sleeping, but what can I say? I was a hardcore six year old. My father always came in and kissed me goodnight. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep without him doing that, but it was a sense of he still cared. Ever since Peyton was born, he was different. Never asked me how my day was. Didn’t care about my art projects. I was a kid who needed attention, but didn’t get any. I always waited, no matter how long. Of course it was a waste of time, but I didn’t know that.


Looking out that window, all I saw was a small light coming from downstairs. Mother was worrying as well, it was almost one a.m. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally a car coming up the driveway, not his car, no not father’s car. The blue, white, and red lights flashing, I knew what was going on. Mother yelled at him for it all the time. My father got out of the car, wobbling to the door. I heard it open, then it shut. I ran to the top of the stairs.
“Where have you been?” That’s all I remember. I couldn’t sleep, yelling echoing in my head. The angry voice of my mother, my father not saying the whole truth. He didn’t come up and kiss me that night, he hasn’t done that ever since. That’s when I learned to rely on myself, no one else is going to push you through your life. Good thing I learned this at a young age, to keep from getting hurt you have to protect yourself, even if that means cutting off everyone in your life.


We moved. No warning, no signs, we just moved. Going from a big farm house with cows and a cornfield to a small house with no backyard, and only two bedrooms wasn’t easy. To add on to it, my great grandma Flo, got sick. I saw her maybe once a year but she was a huge inspiration to me, she taught me how to swim and was my main cause for learning to sew and knit. I saw her once before she died.


We were in Milwaukee, it was the way to the museum that we took a trip to at school, but we turned onto a different road. The parking complex was tall, I looked out over the edge, and this was when I wasn’t afraid. I saw a Miller Light sign, I can’t look at that sign anymore. We walked into the elevator, lots of people filling in. My mother pulling me through the hallways, rushing. I didn’t understand why we were rushing. We got into her room. Sickly, that’s the only word that comes to mind when I think of the last time I saw Grandma Flo.


“I like your sewing machine.” I told her, we were at her apartment earlier that day.


“You can have it” She said, smiling.


“Really?” I didn’t understand why she would just give me a sewing machine, not until later. That was the last conversation I had with her. I never got to say goodbye, my mom wanted to leave before my Aunt Kimmy got there. I still regret never saying goodbye to her.


3 weeks later, we were at her apartment with my mom’s aunts.


“Mom when are we going to go see Grandma Flo?” I asked, playing with Grandma’s teddy bear.


“Oh no, no, no. You can’t see her. Remember her before this sickness.” My mom’s aunt responded. I never got why and I still don’t.


I woke up, it was a crappy Monday, pouring rain. I was late again, I had 10 minutes to get ready, Zoe was here, and that’s when my mother told me the news. I broke down, I’ve never cried so hard in my life. In the car my mother told me I didn’t have to go to school, it was almost the end of the year I had to go to school. I braved through the rest of the day.


Her funeral wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. My aunt Kimmy cried more than anyone. I held in my tears, learning to conceal my emotions, this became a great skill for me. By the end of the funeral I wished I would have gone to school. I didn’t want to be around my family. My parents were annoying, pretending they still cared about each other, my aunts and uncles tried to joke with us, and my cousins were too young to even care. I still wonder if she’d be proud of my accomplishments and if she wouldn’t have died if she would have let things get so bad. About a month after Flo died, we figured out my mother was pregnant.


I was pissed beyond belief when they predicted when she’d be born. My birthday is March 8th, her predicted birthday was March 8th. My parents were excited, “Only have to have one birthday party!” my mother would say.


It came to the day my mother would go into the hospital, 3 days before my birthday. The next day she was born, Faith Florence, an endless reminder of my great grandma Florence (Flo). Mother was still in the hospital on my birthday, my dad told me we’d go to the aquarium that day, but of course he forgot. They forgot it was my birthday, but I couldn’t blame them. A new baby, family members visiting, all of them also forgetting it was my birthday. It’s been that way ever since, but I never really cared until my 13th birthday.


“Alison?” My father called, I wonder what he wants.
“What dad?”
“Michael and I are going to the bar for his birthday okay?” It was March 8th.
“Sure.” Thanks for saying happy birthday to me father.
“Okay, I’ll be back later.” Great.
A little while later.
“Alison!” My mother screamed
“WHAT?” Is it my birthday present? I thought.
“I’m taking Faith and Peyton to Julies so Faith can get her birthday present.” She said getting to my door.
“Okay”
“Be back later, bye.”
“Bye” Did everyone forget it’s my birthday?
A while later.
*Buzz* Kirsten texted me.
Alison.
What?
I’m going to Paige’s k?
K... anything else?
No. Bye
Bye...
Thanks Kirsten...


No cake, no family members, no calls from friends, nothing. I spent my 13th birthday all alone, watching Netflix. I found Supernatural that night though, so it’s not all bad.


That night I went through my Facebook feed because of course people I didn’t talk to were wishing me Happy Birthday, thank you Facebook for reminding everyone but my family it’s my birthday! So helpful. I saw that two days before, Faith’s birthday, my mom had posted a picture of Faith and “Happy Birthday to my sweet little girl, now 5 years old.” I looked to see if she might have posted one for me, nothing. I went back further, “Happy Birthday to Kristen, now 14. She’s growing up so fast.” Still going back further, “Happy Birthday to sweet little Peyton, she just turned 7.” Back further, “Happy Birthday to my husband and best friend in the world Jim.” She remembered my father’s birthday but not mine that hurt. I remember telling myself not to cry, its fine. You’ll be out of this house in no time. Then Faith’s birthday party came along.


There were two cakes, one for me, one for Faith, candles on both cakes, I didn’t pick either cake or blow out any candles. It was before we were going to blow out the candles when I asked my mom.


“Where are my candles?”


“Alison, it’s my birthday not yours, you aren’t important!” Faith told me, my mom just laughed. Thank you so much mother. And you wonder why I don’t like being home anymore. I was torn, I went through the rest of the day fake smiling, and I had to act happy. Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Penny, Jenny, and Julie were all there and I couldn’t look sad, I’d get yelled at. Kirsten knew when I was upset, but she wasn’t the one who had to carry all the weight in the house. She wasn’t up at 3 am listening through the wall.


“Just leave James!”


“I wouldn’t be here, unless I loved you. I’m not leaving!” Lies, he loved her but not how he used too. I don’t remember the rest of the argument. I remember crying myself back to sleep, and not wanting to tell anyone what I’d just heard. This was around the time my father started working 7 days a week. Seeing him less and less didn’t hurt me, but him coming home at 9 did. Working from 5 am to 9 pm made him angry, then Peyton and Faith’s constant nagging making it worse. After all that, I come in asking a simple question, and he’d explode. Yelling at me and then not saying sorry when it wasn’t my fault.


Within my household and just my general family there is a lot of drama. Grandma Flo would have helped with a lot of it. My grandma and my mother had a huge fight, my Aunt Kimmy took my grandma’s side. “Of course she took mom’s side, she’s always been a suck up.” My mom told my Aunt Krissy, who took my mother side. My Uncle Derek didn’t care, he just wanted it all to end. I haven’t seen my Aunt Krissy, my grandma, or my Uncle Derek in 2 years. I babysat for my Aunt Kimmy, so I saw her for the first time in a year.  Whenever I hear my mom talking about it, the story changes. “Oh she’s just angry because we didn’t come to Christmas.”, “I knew this was going to happen at one point, she just kept being bratty to me.” Everytime the story changed, except with my Aunt Krissy, I’d listen to their conversations, my mom always puts the phone on speaker when she thinks we’re all in our rooms, and are on netflix or youtube. My dad hates hearing about it. My mom talks to him about everything and he rolls his eyes. I guess he doesn’t understand how you can have a fight that bad with your family that you never want to talk to them again. It’s put a even bigger crack in their relationship. The household drama is always changing, the one thing I learned about my family was that unlike most families who have arguments and forget about them, we have arguments that are brought up in later arguments. One day it could be someone forgot to do the dishes, to the time Alison ruined Christmas.


  The number 18 has always been my escape route. Then one day I found something I’ve never seen before. I thought it was just another one of my fathers work notebooks, but I flipped through the pages.


January 18th, 2024. Peyton’s 18th birthday.
February 8th, 2017. Kirsten’s 18th birthday. Next to it: Will be the scariest day of my life
March 6th, 2027. Faith’s 18th Birthday
Thursday March 8th, 2018. Alison’s 18th Birthday. Will be one the worse days of my life. She may never come back.


The author's comments:

My life story.


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