My mom used to say that no matter where you go in life your story will always end with a “happily ever after”.
My mom and dad got divorced when I was 13, my mom blamed the divorced on his job, because of what it required him to do. My mother said that if he was not happy with it he did not have to keep it, but my dad cared more about money than his own opinion.
That was the start of the problems, my mom did not feel the need of telling me what else happened. Although I never surmised there was another woman involved.
When my dad visited he did not smell like some other woman’s perfume, he smelled like the cologne my mom had given him that last Christmas. When he visited his eyes still lit up every time he looked at my mom. He never mentioned another woman, but frankly most of our talks were about me.
“How is school going? How are your grades? Do you have a boyfriend yet?” this is what he would normally ask.
“I like school, my grades are not the best, but it’s what I can do and no never.” That was my usual answer.
The longer the time my parents were divorced, the closer we got. More visits, more trips we took, I felt like I was somehow more connected to him then when he was my actual father and lived with us.
One day my dad asked me if I would like to live with him instead of with my mom. My answer was that I did not know. I did not know whether I wanted to live with a person who made me laugh or if I wanted to stay with the person who had raised me and had decided to stay with me all along.
“Just because your mom has taken care of you for 3 years now, does not mean you owe it to her. You’re 16 now you can make the choice for yourself.” He said one day

“I do not think I owe it to her but I feel like if you wanted me to be with you, you should have told my mom or fought for me.” I mumbled under my breath.
“I did not want to fight for you because I thought you were going to be better with your mom. And I did not want you to experience your mother and me fighting.” He answered raising his voice by the end of the sentence.
“You think I could not hear you, when you guys were fighting before the divorce?” I said as I felt my eyes more wet, with the sign of tears about to fall and land onto my cheek. “I heard every conversation. I heard when you slammed the door shut on my mom and left for the bar. You don’t think I heard when you told my mom that none of this would have happened if I had not existed?” I said as tear ran down my face as if racing to get to my jaw line.
“Trista you know I did not mean that. You know I was drunk and I did not mean that. You know that!”
“I don’t think I do anymore. I feel like I’m just another thing you and mom want to fight for. Like some kind of trophy, to show who fought better.”
I walked out of the restaurant we were in and headed towards the bus stop. I had never been on one but I had this feeling, and I didn’t know if it was sadness or if it was anger, sort of a mix of both but I didn’t want anyone to know.
The bus ride home was painful, slow, I could hear the tall gloomy man’s watch beside me tick. We was reading a book. The cover page was a girl about my age and seemed to be running down the street she didn’t seem worried more like happy like she knew something was expecting her or she was expecting something.
“Its about a girl who found the love of her life when she was 10.” He said looking at me.
I answered with an “oh” feeling more tears racing to my jaw line.
I woke up the next day, my mother seemed more sad than usual.
I went to the table and sat across from her in my favorite, blue with cream, chair. She placed a plate in front of me, it had 2 eggs and 1 piece of bacon. The breakfast of change.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked back not looking at me directly in the eye.
“When dad was leaving you made this breakfast. When grandma died you made this. It’s ‘the breakfast of change’” I said
 
“Umm your father.”
“Is he fighting for custody?”
“Umm no he umm” she hesitated. “He was uh found dead, his car had crashed against a tree.”
I didn’t know how to react. I kept the room silent.
“They said it was mainly caused by a cerebral aneurysm. It ruptured and released blood into his brain, which caused him to have a stroke while in the car. He lost control.”
I got up from my chair and walked to my room I slammed the door shut and laid in my bed the whole day.
My dad was dead. My dad died and he didn’t get to hear me say that I loved him. The last thing I did was yell at him. And I got up and didn’t even say goodbye.
The rest of the week was the same my mom let me miss 3 days of school and I felt worse and worse as each day went by. I thought about how I didn’t even bother to say bye. I had done something so terrible and I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with anything right now. I had built a wall keeping everyone out of my room. I built a soundproof wall. A wall no one could tear down, I built a wall that shield me against any good thing that could come and turn my life around.
I didn’t want to get better. I didn’t want my happy ending to arrive without my dad in this world. I wasn’t trying to extricate myself out of this situation. I didn’t want to feel better.
I stopped eating and I grew thinner by the minute. I stopped going to school. I just hid under the pile of pillows in my bed. I didn’t even try to walk down the hall.
Then my body couldn’t take it anymore. My brain began to shut down. I couldn’t think of anything anymore I couldn’t imagine anything my brain had no use.  Then my body. I couldn’t even stand for 10 seconds. I had a tough time trying to get up from my messy unmade bed.
Then my mom found me.
I was in a new place. I didn’t know where I was, or how I got there but it all seemed fine again. My skin was back to normal. I could walk, I didn’t have trouble getting up, but I was never going to get my happy ending.
“Trista?”

I turned around to see who it was, it was him he was wearing a suit. The same one he was wearing the last time I had seen him. The day he had died.
“Trista what are you doing here?” He said. He seemed more worried than happy to see me. His usual disposition.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said at the restaurant. I love you and I did want to live with you but I couldn’t leave mom.” I said feeling ashamed.
“It’s alright.” He said. “If you’re here that means you found you’re happy ending. And I didn’t even get to meet him.”
“Him?” I asked confused.
“Remember how you mother used to say that before we die you will get your ‘happy ending’”
“Yes.” I said confused. “What if our happy ending is the reason we die? Does is have to be someone? What if I knew him all my life?”
He looked at me very confused and said “What do you mean?”
“nothing.” I stuttered. Not wanting to tell him that he was the reason I was here. I did not want to tell him that he meant more to me than life itself, because he was my dad and I would choose him over anything.