My dad returns on Sunday afternoon. He bought gifts for my mom and for the household, nothing for me personally. He gives me his phone, asking me to download the latest Whatsapp version. He needed to talk business immediately.
I take it to my room and do as I’m told. Immediately I’m done a message pops up at the top of the screen. I can’t help but see it. I freeze.
I take the phone back to my father, unable to look him in the face. My mom is engrossed in the gifts she had received. I go back to my room, unable to fathom the message that entered my dad’s phone.
There’s only one reason for him to receive that type of message from anyone that isn’t my mom: My dad’s cheating on my mom.
My father–he isn’t my dad anymore –offers to drive me again to school that morning. I refuse, sternly. During the bus drive I didn’t say I word. I kept asking the same questions:
How the hell did this happen?
Why would a person do this?
Why?
Why would he do this?
I get no answer to any of the questions.
Thunder teaches that morning. One period this time, but it feels like forever. I can’t stop thinking about what a piece of shit my father was, destroying my family like that. I begin to develop a headache.
I don’t go out during break time. Rich and Maxon afterwards decide to ask me what’s wrong. I only shake my head. I can’t help thinking about what Rich said on Friday about holier-than-thou people always hiding something.
The second period after break-time was Civil Ed. None of us were expecting the student teacher. My headache’s receded.
Ten minutes into the period someone walks through the door, goes straight to the board and begins writing.
I’m not paying attention so I don’t notice all these things till the person speaks. “I’m your new Civil Education teacher… for a while at least.” It’s a girl’s voice. I look up. “My name is Naomi.”
I know Naomi, I realize as I stare uncontrollably at the female student teacher–the beautiful girl from the party. After a while she looks my direction. She raises her head a bit in recognition. And then she turns back around and begins to teach.
She introduces Civil Ed. to us. Even though it had already been done in our former grade, I don’t mind.
She explains that being civil has to do with more than just being a good citizen. It has more to do with being a good individual. And being a good individual is the most important part of being a human being. She says that throughout all her classes she’ll always involve humanity with civility. One cannot go without the other.
She talks a while about things that make a good person before going into her topic for the day. And as she teaches, I listen.
Every student in the class groans when the bell indicates that her period is over. She promises to continue tomorrow. I find myself rushing towards her as she leaves the class. I catch her outside.
“Hello. Hi… miss.” I don’t know if that’s an appropriate greeting for your teacher.
She studies me like a new specimen. “Hello.”
“I know you,” I blurt.
“Do you now? Well I guess you didn’t drink enough to lose your memory of that night, too bad. Did you want something?”
Did I? What am I doing here? “I just wanted to welcome you.”
“Thanks.” She leaves.
I find myself staring at her until she leaves my eyesight. I go back inside. Rich is waiting for me at my seat. “That new teacher’s hot.”
I sit down, ignoring his comment. I guess drunken Rich and sober Rich have different views.
“She looks kind of familiar too.”
“I don’t know.”
Shortly afterwards our next teacher enters. I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking about Naomi.
When I get home my dad’s not around, and I’m glad for that. Then I begin to wonder if he’s out cheating.
“Is something the matter?” mom asks. She was too busy with her gift to notice something was wrong when I initially found out about my father’s infidelity. If she wasn’t she would have noticed then that something was wrong with me. She’s noticed now, though. She always knows when something is not right with me.
I don’t want to lie to her, but I know I have to. I can’t just tell her something like that without first understanding… or at least finding out if it’s true. I might’ve misunderstood the text. That’s a lousy lie, though. There is nothing to misunderstand in I had a great time last night baby.
I still can’t tell my mother. It would break her. And it would break our home. I hate my father for putting me in this position.
“Everything’s alright, mom,” I lie. “I’m just hungry.”
“As always,” she answers, smiling.
I rush upstairs immediately, and as I get to my room door I feel tears sting at my eyes.
My mom’s smiling like everything is alright when it isn’t. And I just assured her it is. I hate my father. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I climb unto my bed and allow the tears flow. I hate my life.
My father comes back when I’m eating. I greet him because I have to. I go back to my room immediately and don’t come back until it is time to pray.
After that I go back inside to sleep. For some reason my mom doesn’t make me read that night. I’m glad for it.