I thought the worst part would be watching him marry the woman who destroyed our family when my dad called to invite my 12-year-old brother and me to his wedding. I had no idea my quiet little brother had been planning something that would make their special day remarkable.
My name’s Tessa.
I’m 25 now, have a little brother, Owen, who’s 12.
He used to be the happiest, kindest kid I knew.
But after what occured to our family, I watched that softness destr0yed slowly.
Our dad, Evan, had been che:ating on our mom with a woman from work. Her name was Dana. Dana with the blinding white smile and always-perfect hair, who worked in his accounting firm. My mom found out when she came home early from grocery shopping one Thursday afternoon.
I’ll never forget the way she dropped that plant.
“Linda, I can explain,” Dad said.
But Mom didn’t say anything. She just turned around and walked up to their bedroom.
What followed was messier and uglier than anything I’d seen in movies.
“Did you know?” she asked me once.
“Did you see signs I missed?”
I didn’t know, but I wished I had. Maybe I could have concerned her somehow.
My mom still thought she could change everything for weeks after she found out. She went to counseling alone when Dad refused to go.
She wrote him long letters explaining how much she loved him and how they could work through it together.
“22 years, Tessa,” she told me. “We’ve been together since college. That has to mean something to him.”
But it didn’t.
Dad moved in with Dana three weeks after serving Mom the divorce papers.
I remember Owen sitting in our bedroom that first night after Dad packed his things, whispering into the darkness, “Does Dad love her more than us?”
“He loves us, Owen. He’s just confused right now,” I said.
“Then why doesn’t he want to live with us anymore?”
I held him and kissed his forehead. “I don’t know, buddy. I really don’t know.”
Mom tried to hold it together for our sake, but I could see her breaking apart piece by piece.
Fast forward a year after the divorce, and suddenly there’s a wedding. My dad calls me on a Tuesday evening.
“Hey, sweetheart! How’s work going?”
“Fine, Dad. What’s up?”
“Well, I wanted to let you know that Dana and I are getting married next month. It’s going to be a backyard ceremony at her sister’s house. Simple, but nice. I want you and Owen there. It would mean the world to me to have my kids celebrating with us.”
I stood in my kitchen holding the phone, wanting to laugh or maybe scream. Or both.