Own Up

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A warning to divorced parents to not use their child as a form of getting back at one another.

Submitted: May 29, 2008

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Submitted: May 29, 2008

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“No Dad, I’ll be over at Mom’s tonight,” I spat, venom leaking in my voice. My small face was glued to the monitor screen as I searched for any updates on my friend’s myspace. Outside the sky was splotched with pastel colors before melting to nighttime. My “father” had continuously been lecturing me (for the past ten minutes) about my Mom. Hint, they’re divorced, so that’s not so surprising to have my Dad complaining about my Mom and her decisions in parenting. In my opinion I adore my Mom because she lets me do as I please, no questions asked.
I released an overdramatic groan as he continued, arms folded, uncomfortable. Of course, he muttered threatening words like “grounded” or “ don’t make me”, yeah—right Dad because you and Mom would both agree to that. I whipped to face him, dissatisfied with my prolonged search as my manicured fingers decorated by the benefits of Mom drummed loudly on the wooden desk. It irritated him, I could sense it in the way his eyes focused on my fingers, narrowing to slits before returning to it’s stern self. I felt my pink lips pout out as I sulked, looking away from him. 
“ Kelly, you’re Mom may have a different view on things than I do but you still need to abide by my rules.” I fluffed my bleach blonde hair carelessly ignoring him as I whisked out a compact mirror. He was no concern to me, sure he gave me the ‘x’ chromosome, but my Mom was what made me what I am now. I blinked my doe like green eyes in the mirror as I tilted my face this way and that as he tapped his foot impatiently on the carpet.
“ Kelly,” he growled, I snapped the circular mirror shut, and glared at him annoyed. “ You need to listen to me when I talk to you.” He scolded, his brown eyes burning into mine. Fine he wanted to finally step up to the plate and parent then maybe I should take this chance to remind him.
“ And you should have listened when you said your vows on your wedding day,” I lowered my voice, feeling deadly. “ remember? Till death… do… us… part, not till divorce do we part and then head for the hills!” The last bit rushed out wickedly, as I watched him wince at my curtness.
The air was thick and hostile after that ringing sentence, too quiet as we sat staring at each other. What can I say, life was difficult growing up with my Mom and then suddenly being switched back and forth like air mail. They chose this path in the beginning and now it’s time for them to own up.
Our sterile silence was interrupted by numerous beeps from my Razor phone, I picked through my Loui-Button bag before flipping it open. A desperate text from one of my many guy friends insisting I go to a house party tonight; there would be alcohol. Hastily I shoved it back into my bag before standing to leave.
“Where exactly do you think you’re going?” he demanded angrily, the muscles in his neck tightening. I peeked into my full length mirror adjusting the tight red Hollister shirt and jean skirt. My little body turned left and right as I sucked in a breath to make me look thinner, forgetting my Dad for a moment. I headed for the door but he stopped me his bulky arms filling the space, a human wall. I glowered at him, crossing my thin arms across my ribcage, hugging it to relieve the mounting irritation in me.
“ I told you Dad, I’m going to Mom’s.” I felt my eyebrows rising higher with tension. Why doesn’t he stop getting on me? Mom would just say ‘okay hun here’s fifty dollars, enjoy.’ My dad can’t stand it! The things she does! I personally think he’s just jealous that she makes more money than him. Oh! How she likes to dig her claws into him, my poor mouse of a Dad. I grimaced at my analogy as I ducked under his arm, escaping into the hallway.
“ Kelly, you come back here this instant! We need to talk NOW.” I could practically imagine his knuckles whitening as he contained the climaxing urge to get all ‘hulk’ on me. I waved him off haughtily, grabbing my bag of clothes and forgotten schoolwork while descending down the stairs to the front door.
“ You know what Dad? Talking would have been really helpful during all those years you were in England, not—now.” I unlatched the silver deadbolt and snatched the cool handle, throwing the door open. Crickets sang in the distance as the fresh night air blew my hair about, I cursed trying to style it back to it’s perfect shape. I whipped out my phone and called my friend. He answered only after the first ring, anxious. I shut the door behind me and unlocked my mustang throwing my stuff in before sliding into the leather seats. Jamming the key into the ignition I chatted, seeing my stony faced Dad in the doorway of his house…my prison.
“ Yeah,” I jabbered, slamming my red door shut and hearing the engine rev.“You bet—No it’s no problem,” I shoved my school bag aside letting it spill into my car. “ I’ll be there—she’s cool with it.” I smirked, hanging up. Thanks Mom and Dad, I owe you. 


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