Tha Last Apology

The car was deathly silent, but the ringing in my ears kept getting louder.

A voice kept screaming at me to jump.

I dug my fingernails into my palms until they went numb.

The moment I got home and closed the front door, my mom, Melanie Larson, slammed her purse onto the coffee table.

"Did you do that on purpose? The clerk asked you one question, and you immediately agreed that we should get divorced.

"How am I supposed to show my face outside after that?"

I lowered my voice. "I was just answering the question."

"So, you think you’re too good for us now? You think you can just ignore everything I say?

"You make it sound so easy. If we get divorced, who’s going to pay your college tuition and living expenses?" She pointed at me, her voice rising with anger.

"You've always been like this. You act all sweet and obedient until it matters, then you deliberately go against us. You always know exactly what to say to hurt people. You’re just like your father."

"Don't blame everything on me! But your mother has a point. We've fought for all these years without splitting up, and who was it all for?

"We stayed together to give you a complete family!"

My dad, John Larson, lit a cigarette. The smoke crept into my throat, and my stomach immediately clenched.

He exhaled and sneered. "We wasted eighteen years raising you. I was finally in line for a promotion, and you couldn't keep your mouth shut. You had to humiliate me in front of everyone at the county clerk's office."

"I didn't humiliate you."

"Then why did you say you wanted us to get divorced?" He tapped the table, sending cigarette ash onto the tablecloth. "Will you not be happy until you tear this family apart?"

I stared at the calendar on the wall and said nothing.

For ten years, whenever my parents fought and threatened to divorce, I was caught between them.

Mom always said, "If it weren't for you, I would've left him years ago."

Dad always said, "I never got to go anywhere or do anything because I had to raise you."

Even after they made up, those were the first things they said to me.

"It’s my birthday today." I looked up and spoke softly. "Can you please stop fighting?"

Mom froze for a moment, then her expression hardened with anger.

"You pressured your own parents to get divorced, and now you expect us to celebrate your birthday? Who do you think you are, talking back to me like that?"

Dad grabbed my backpack and threw it outside.

"Get out! Stop standing there and giving us attitude."

My paternal grandmother, Sheila Larson, suddenly shoved the door open, sending the shopping bags in her hands crashing to the floor. She stormed straight toward me and jabbed a finger hard against my forehead.

"You've been nothing but bad luck since the day you were born! Every time your father missed out on a promotion, wasn't it because you caused him trouble?"

Before I could respond, my maternal grandmother, Kelly White, hurried in behind her, her face twisted with anger.

"Your mother nearly died giving birth to you! Is this how you repay her for everything she sacrificed? Apologize to her right now!"

"I didn't do anything wrong today."

"You still dare to say that?"

Grandma Kelly raised her hand and slapped me across the face.

"Your mother lost her job because she had to take care of you, didn't she?"

Once, when I was ten, I hid in the closet and listened to my parents smashing things.

I called for Grandma Sheila, but she said grown-ups were allowed to argue and children should keep their mouths shut.

I called for Grandma Kelly, but she said I should know better than to make my mother's life harder.

That night, no one opened the closet door.

Grandma Kelly grabbed my arm and yanked me toward her.

"Are you going to apologize or not?"

I stumbled into the corner of the table. Pain shot through me, tightening my throat, and tears spilled uncontrollably down my cheeks.

"Mom, could you please make me something to eat today?"

"You still have the nerve to ask for food? If you’re old enough to stir up trouble in this family, then you’re old enough to support yourself!"

Mom and Grandma Kelly shoved me toward the door from either side. My hand scraped against the doorknob, and a sharp sting ran across my skin.

The door locked behind me.

I heard someone moving chairs inside. Then Mom said, "Let’s have a nice family dinner tonight."

Dad chimed in, "Forget about her. It’ll be more peaceful with one less person around."

I leaned against the wall and listened as they enjoyed themselves together.

As long as I was not there, it was as if none of their fights had ever happened.

If everything was my fault, then maybe I should just leave.