Dear Clara

2.

            My mom hung up the phone after an hour. Her puffy eyes refused to meet mine. Her lips quivered as she sat on the chair opposite mine. It was my dad. I had heard snatches of their conversation. I entangled my fingers with her warm ones and gave a reassuring squeeze. Her wedding ring felt hard against my skin. I braced myself and looked into her haunted eyes, the dark circles beneath them giving away her sleepless nights. Her voice came out in a whisper.

  "Mel, your dad wants a divorce. I am sorry."

           With that, she broke down. Her pale face morphed into ugly wrinkles, her hand trying to wipe the unending tears. Unlike me, she could not mask her emotions no matter how hard she tried. It was one of the many things I liked about her. She came and sat beside me and hugged me close to her. I could feel her hot breath on my hair. I couldn't think of anything to say. I hugged her back and let her tears spill silently.

            I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. My dad is a writer- a poet to be precise. His idea of life was all roses and no thorns. He couldn't bare to face the financial instability of our home. The mundane problems of everyday life bothered him. He was hardly at home. I've never seen him hold my mom's hand. I am beginning to think that maybe, I was nothing more than a burden to him. What is the use of having a father when you never get to see him? Once I heard him screaming at my mom, that if it weren't for us, he would've become famous by now. To be honest, I haven't figured him out all that well. Sure, he is a good man. But not the father I've always yearned for. Now I know that he is only a pathetic coward.

I freed myself from my mom's embrace and said, "It is okay, Mom. It's not your fault. We'll be alright, trust me." I felt nothing but anger at the man who had stranded us and ran away to hide behind words.

We sat hugging each other for a long time and some part of me knew that we are going to fight through this.

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Dear Clara,
                My parents are getting divorced. You know how I feel about my dad so it doesn't affect me much. But mom is worried sick. Maybe she is scared about taking care of me all alone. Of course, she knows we are going to need a lot of money for my treatment and her waitress job isn't going to pay much.

School is pretty much the same. I sit at our bench alone. I eat lunch alone. Sometimes Megan comes and sits with me, mostly out of pity. Her friends don't like me, so you know, it is pretty weird. The teachers try to help me as much as they can but I actually don't want to be helped. It is not like I am going to college, so it doesn't really matter.

Mr Richard tried to talk to me after class today. He told me that I should stop being so quiet all the time and make new friends. He told me that I should try to accept and forget what happened to you. But I couldn't respond. I just stood there, staring at the floor. He can never understand what you meant to me, what you still mean to me. I think he will be handling Shakespeare next term too. So, I guess I'm pretty much stuck with him.

Your mom and dad visited us today. Chris wasn't with them. I don't know why. I was reading Wuthering Heights when your mom came into my room. She didn't say anything. The silence was enough for us. She looked tired and sad. We sat side by side on my bed, holding hands.

As strange as it sounds, I think she sometimes sees you in me, though we are nothing alike. She was thinking about you. We both were.
With love,
Mel.
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Author's Note:
This is probably a shout into oblivion, still, if you are reading this , do vote and tell me what do you think. I have decided upon one thing, Even if no one is going to read this, I am going to continue to write this book of mine. What is the point? You ask, I have no idea. When I die, ( hopefully not soon) this will stay as a piece of my soul. Haha.. Weird, I know.
Adios!!