That Night

My dad and I had been sitting in the same spot for the past hour. Him sitting forward on the couch, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Me, spread out on the arm chair, staring up at the ceiling.

At the beginning of the night my mother had been here sitting down with us at the dinner table, laughing and talking excitedly. Then she left, seeking some better adventure, trying to find some more excitement for her life.

Again.

I don’t know how he puts up with it, I’m her daughter and I can barely stand it. He married her, and just… why would he do that?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his head raise from his hands, and I assume he’s looking at me, “She’ll be back.”

I stop staring at the ceiling to meet his gaze, “How do you know?”

“She always comes back.”

I cough and look away from him, unwilling to look him straight in the eyes anymore to see what he was thinking. My dad is very easy to read, once you stare into his eyes long enough. After another moment of silence I ask him, “You do know that you deserve better, right?”

He chuckles and says, “Trust me, I don’t.” And with that, he gets up and walks away while I sit here trying to figure out what he means. Trying to figure out why she always leaves and comes back. Just trying to make sense of this strange relationship between my parents that for whatever reason, they’re both okay with.

Who knows, maybe it will make sense to me one day.

Actually, scratch that, I hope this never makes sense to me.