or when the true story slips out.
"you know, wren, why your dad and i divorced?"
no, i didn't know, but i quickly figured she was bringing this up because of the sermon at church. something about the only circumstances under which divorce should occur.
it didn't feel right to speak, and she kept talking anyway.
"he cheated on me." she said it laughingly, as if it wasn't a big deal. i didn't make a big deal of it either.
she explained how he hid his phone from her, and cleared the but of fog left in the glass.
i was mostly nonresponsive in the emotional variety because I didn't care that he fucked himself, that he had an affair and drank himself to almost death.
i did care, however, about those stupid naked pictures of his girlfriend at the time. i was eleven.
as if reading my mind, my mom mentioned it.
"ugh, that's disgusting."
"yeah," i said.
i didn't get why he would do it to her. sure, she used to be more angry, but that didn't make her a bad wife or a bad mother. it didn't add up.
at least i may now sleep easy knowing that part of some big puzzle that makes up me is solved.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
