“Two grilled cheese on whole wheat,'' my father asked.

The waiter nodded and took down our order.

My father sat slouched facing me. He wore a light blue sweater, which coordinated perfectly with his eyes. His hair turned dark brown from the rain and his skin looked damp. He didn't seem to be in a good mood.

“I have to talk to you.” He placed his cold hand over mine. His voice became shallow but firm. “Isabella, I've gotten into some trouble. I have to leave. There's no reason for me to stay, at least not now anyways. I know that we will no longer be able to see each other, but this is for the best. Trust me.” He sounded as if he felt compunction for what he had just said to me.

My heart sank and my stomach fell to the floor. I suddenly lost my appetite. At six years old, I didn't understand why my father had to leave. Isn't everything he needs right here? I thought that I was his world, and that we would always enjoy grilled cheeses together. I couldn't believe it. 

Our food finally arrived and we ate in silence. The grilled cheese was warm and crispy. The cheese melted onto my hands and it made my hands feel sticky. I got up and went to use the restroom so I could wash off the mess. I looked into the mirror as I washed my hands. In my reflection, I saw a little girl with tears streaming down her cheeks. I started to cry, a loud ugly cry. I couldn't catch my breath and I was gasping for air. It felt like my whole world was falling apart. I tried and I tried to imagine my life without seeing my father, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I turned off the water and pulled myself together. When I stopped crying, I opened the bathroom door and left.

As I returned to the table, my father had already finished eating and got the check. As we left the restaurant, the sky opened up and we reluctantly braced the weather. It was raining so hard that my father couldn't distinguish my tears from the rain drops on my face, and I couldn’t tell if he was crying too. As if there was nothing left to say to each other, we sang our favorite song on the way home, like we always did after dinner. We kept repeating the lyrics, “Skip-a-dee-doo-dah zip-a-dee-day. My oh my it's a wonderful day. Plenty of sunshine heading my way, skip-a-dee-doo-dah zip-a-dee-day.” 

I could have kept singing until I couldn't anymore, but my father stopped us in front of my mother's apartment building. 

My father turned to me, his blue eyes gazing into mine. “I love you. I will always love you. There is not a day that goes by where I don't wish I could go back and change things, but this is reality. I'll call you when I get there.”

I said nothing. As he walked away, I tried to comprehend what was happening. But I couldn't.  I stood in the rain and watched as my best friend, my everything, my role model, my other half, the person who I loved the most leave me. I watched as he opened the cab door without hesitation, without looking back.

When I got into my mother's apartment, I ran straight into my room. My room was small, but comfortable. The walls were light blue and they reminded me of the sky. As I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, my loneliness engulfed me. In this moment, the rain that incessantly poured outside my window, did not compare to the anguish that was drowning me.  

The next morning, I watched the sun rise but I couldn't get myself out of bed. My sadness was so crippling that I didn't go to school that day. Instead, I sat by the phone anticipating my father's call. While I waited, my mother and I watched an MTV marathon of Legally Blonde, Mean Girls, and Thirteen Going on Thirty. Movie after movie, we kept checking the phone, but there were no messages. After hours of waiting, my mother finally put me to sleep. I laid in my bed as I drowned in confusion. Why didn't he call me? He promised me. He broke his promise. He told me that he would call me but he didn't. He's a liar. Tears slowly rolled down my cheeks and onto my pillow. 

After the first three months that my father was gone, I stopped calling him. I tried him, but there was never a response. Even though I called him everyday, I wondered why my mother didn't try harder to call him. I later realized that my father's actions also devastated my mother. I never thought that my best friend could cause so much pain to the people he said that he loved. 

After awhile, it stopped raining as much and the icy weather melted away into spring time. Seven months went by and school was let out into summer break. One June afternoon, my mother picked me up from school. She dropped me off at the corner of 90th street while she went to run errands. I made my way to my building when suddenly I froze in my tracks. At the opposite end of the block, I saw those old blue eyes that I hadn't seen in months. No longer were his eyes filled with tears, but something else seemed foreign. He looked different. It looked as if he were twenty pounds lighter. His hair was grown out and he had a beard. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. When our eyes met each others, I felt paralyzed. But then I mustered all my strength and marched straight into my apartment with no hesitation. This time, I did not look back.