Broken(1)

Broken

I remember this all so clearly. Just like it was yesterday. I loved her so much before she just left and made me broken. I always have wondered why, but have never gotten a straight answer.
I lived in a small town. Around there everyone knew each other and no secrets could be kept. Once a girl named Amy slipped on a banana peel (just like in the movies) and bruised her butt. That was the word around town for weeks. She was such a sweet girl and she got so embarrassed by it. I ended up feeling bad for her so I tried being nice and stick up for her at school when people made fun of her for it. After awhile the town moved on to other things that happened and ended up forgetting about Amy’s incident. She seemed very thankful for that.
If you ask me, my parents were messed up compared to most “normal” parents out there. My mom was a drug addict and an alcoholic while my dad had anger problems. The only time I saw my dad’s anger was when my mom wasn’t around. This made me so frustrated because my mom never saw the way he truly acted. Even when she was around she wasn’t herself because of the drugs and alcohol. This probably seemed pretty bad, but to me, it became a normal thing.
A lot of people around town talked about me. They thought I was mentally unstable because of my parents. I didn’t blame them because sometimes I sure acted like I was. I heard that some thought that i was clinically depressed. I didn’t let it bother me because everyone has something bad said about them. Right?
“Deanna! Get your butt downstairs! Now!” my dad called.
I walked down the stairs, going as slow as i could. I didn’t want to face my dad after what I just heard.
“Hurry up! Don’t keep me waiting young lady!” he called again.
I started to walk faster because I didn’t want to get in trouble that day. After I stepped off the last step, I ran down the hallway and nearly tripped over the rug. As i caught my balance, i stumbled into the kitchen, where I saw my dad sitting at the table.
“Deanna, your mom isn’t coming back,” he said to me with a blank expression.
“What?” I asked him.
“I got a call from someone saying that she got up and left the bar last night. They said she got in a taxi and just left. She should be home by now, but she isn’t. So now i assume she’s gone,” my dad explained.
I ran to my room and cried. I was so upset even though my mom seemed like such a horrible person she was still my mom. Not having her in my life was miserable. Hearing those words come out of my dads mouth made me break inside. I had no other way to get out that pain so I started to cut myself, drink, and smoke. I know that it was stupid to do, but stupidity seemed to run in the family.
One day I was drunk and my dad came home early from work. He was talking about something that didn’t make sense to me so I brought up Daffy Duck and he slapped me. I didn’t see it coming, but things like that happened more and more frequently.
A couple months after that incident, something bad happened. My dad and I were at a place to practice hitting baseballs. It was my turn to throw the ball to him so he could hit it. His excuse was I got to close, but that’s not true. He hit the ball so it would hit me right in the face. I had to go to the hospital because my nose was broken. Ever since that occurred, I ignored my dad. Also, since he made me so paranoid (because i never knew when he would hit me) I got mad at the smallest things.
Every day since my mom left, she is all i can ever think about. I always wondered where she was or if she was okay. I got so worried about her because she could have been outside in a gutter drunk and singing barney songs to get money or something. She used to always sing little kid songs when she was drunk.
When I was going through my childhood i would always wondered why i was so upset all the time. I was told it was because of my mom, but i thought it was bigger than that. I just couldn’t figure it out.
After three years, I lost hope that my mom would ever come back. Every day, I dealt with the pain and the emptiness. But one day, I got a big surprise.
She walked through the door and I wouldn’t have noticed who she was if it wasn’t for the small cuts on her face from when she was in a fight (while drunk).
“Hey guys! How was your day?” my mom asked as she put down her soda.
I looked at her like she was crazy because she was acting like she never left. My dad just cussed under his breath because he was hoping she would never come back. He told me about a year ago that “she caused him too much pain.” I found that complete bull poop.
“Hey Deanna,” she said while smiling, “want to go shopping with me today? I think we both need some new clothes.”
She hugged me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the car. We got in and she talked to me like we were best friends.
Since she came back, she always acted clueless when we asked her anything about what happened the night she left. I’ve learned to deal with it and I just hope it never happens again.