The first time my parents fought happened when I was 4 years old. Well, the first one I saw, at least.

“You can’t be seriously making me sleep in the room without the air conditioning,” grumbled my dad as he rushed down the stairs. “I have work in the morning; there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep in that heat.” Dad worked as a doctor on offshore oil reserves, flying out every two weeks for work and returning home for the subsequent two weeks.

“You wouldn’t be sleeping out there if you didn’t cut the cord to our TV to forbid the kids from using it,” my mom shot up from her seat, face flushed with rage. “You know what the contractor told me when he came to fix it? Better keep your kids away from the TV so they don’t cut it again. Seems my husband is the child here.”

Seated next to my mom, my head stayed down, intently scrutinizing a grain of rice dangling over the edge of the bowl. My brother, Theo, had already finished his dinner and immediately sprinted upstairs to reunite with his Lego set. I peeked at the staircase, maybe he would notice the noise and come down to rescue me. But boys, they never notice anything unless it is right in front of their faces, and even then.

“There is no way I’m sleeping out there. Like it or not, I will be sleeping in the AC,” my dad declared. Their voices grew deafening as the argument escalated. 

“There it is again, you do whatever you want at the expense—”

“Shh! Indoor voices only,” I chimed in with my youthful tone. At the time, I didn’t recognize the magnitude of the situation I had inserted myself into. What was unfolding in front of my eyes extended beyond a noisy household. 

My parents finalized their divorce on November 29th, one day before my 5th birthday. The giftbag-making station I laid out the week prior went back into its boxes and loaded onto a moving truck with a dozen others that carried our lives. Clothes filled suitcases upon suitcases; when did we own this many suitcases? Soon enough, my mom and I squeezed into her Sedan and we arrived at an apartment that would be our new home. 

As a part of their divorce settlement, my dad insisted on keeping custody of my brother, the “first-born,” he and my grandparents reiterated. Our existing house would be sold and divided evenly, along with the rest of their assets. That was it. A clean cut. Nothing mandating child support every month or parent visits every weekend. Suddenly, our family of 4 became two families, one being my mom and I and the other being strangers. 

On November 30th, I celebrated my birthday surrounded by friends and laughter but the fundamental parts of life were nowhere to be found.

—

Living with just the girls proved to be a learning curve. Overnight, my mom became the sole adult in the house, responsible for cooking our meals, cleaning the apartment, and making ends meet, while still being present for her toddler. I became best friends with being alone. Between starting at a new school and my mom working late into the night, I only had myself to keep occupied. I welcomed the silence and solitude, a contrast to the tumultuous household I had grown accustomed to. 

“What happened to Theo, Mom? And dad?” I pondered aloud as she squeezed toothpaste on my toothbrush one night. We had a family day that morning at school, but my mom had to work so the chair next to me stayed vacant while all the others filled with moms, dads, and even grandmas and grandpas. It had been a couple of months since the divorce and no sign of life from my dad or my brother.

“I think he’s just busy, honey, he’ll reach out soon and you can go visit him and your grandparents soon, okay?” 

“Okay,” Except, the reaching out took a little longer than “soon.”

“Hey, Ellie, how are you doing?” My dad greeted me on the phone, far too enthusiastic for someone who hadn’t talked to their daughter for the better part of a year. 

“I’m good, how are you?” I exchanged, but what I really meant to say was what took you so long to call?

“I’m doing alright. How’s the new school? What about your friends?” I told him everything he wanted to know, detailing how I was in the play and how much I loved my teachers. It was a phone call I would have killed to receive a year ago, but now, as he hung up, I couldn’t help but notice that not once did he say, “Come visit me and Theo, we’ll go somewhere together.” The end click of the phone was deafening.

—

Time passed relentlessly. Before I knew it, high school showed up on our doorstep. The night before my freshman year, I had an unexpected visitor. I heard the doorbell just as I had packed my pencil case for the next morning and I raced to it, expecting a delivery box on the other side. Instead, I got Theo’s tentative face. I didn’t recognize him at first; it was the first I had seen him in almost 10 years other than the occasional Facebook post Mom finds on his school account. He'd become tall, almost reaching the top of the doorway. His lanky form folded into a sitting position on our couch while his brown eyes darted around the living room as if gathering clues about what we had been up to all this time. I do the same to him, taking in his Duke sweatshirt and swoopy brown hair. 

“So, how are you?” Theo broke the silence first.

“I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you and mom,” he cut to the point. “I leave for college tomorrow and I miss you guys.”
“How’d you even find us anyway?” I questioned, still unsure of his intentions.

“It wasn’t hard. Dad had your guys’ address this whole time. I snooped around his office a little and found it right away,” he confessed. “We only live 20 minutes away.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of this conversation. Betrayed that not once did our father try to see me even though he lived 20 minutes away? Angry that he never cared enough for me to try? Thankful that my brother had the guts to do what he couldn’t? I found comfort in my shirt hem while considering my next question.

“Say what you want from us, then,” I countered, “and then you can leave.” 

“I just told you why, Ellie. I just wanted to see you again. I’ve missed you both. I’ve missed Mom. I know what Dad did was bad. I don’t want us to be that way again,” he explained. “You’re starting high school, right? And I’m starting college. This can be our fresh start.”

So much hope welled in his eyes, I swear I almost saw it physically spill from his eyes. 

“I appreciate it, really. But I think you’re a couple of years overdue for that. I think mom comes home in a little bit, though, so you can stay to see her.” It broke my heart to reject his apology. Three years ago, I would’ve accepted it before he even finished. But now, accepting it would open a can of worms I had worked so hard to put behind me. 

“Ellie, I’m being serious. I really want us to try,” Theo insisted, his hands reaching out towards me. “I've thought about this a lot. I just never had the guts to do it and for that I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“So am I. I’m sorry but I can’t let myself dwell over the ramifications of our parent's divorce any longer. I’d spent enough time crying over it and I don’t want this to be another reason why I’m sobbing every night.”
“What about just your phone number? We can start small. Keep in touch and we’ll see what happens,” Theo compromised. Wow, he’s actually trying. And just like that, The can of worms was opened. 

—

Rebuilding my relationship with Theo has been scarily smooth, mostly because anything that has to do with family never was. He stayed true to his word. Ever since that first meeting, he checks in on me almost every day, asking how my day went, offering advice whenever he could, and celebrating my goals with me. He was literally a gift that showed up at my front door. 

“Theo is meeting us there, right, Ellie?” Mom asks,  securing my graduation cap with bobby pins.

“Yeah, he says he’s driving there. I gave him his ticket already so we don’t have to meet up beforehand,” I confirmed. “How do I look?”

“Like my graduate. I never got the chance to tell you but I’m proud of you for giving Theo a chance. I know family is a sensitive subject for you yet you still tried for him.”
“Luckily, yeah. But I draw the hard line at Dad.”

Dad filled less of a “dad” role nowadays and more of a “father” role. He tried, after Theo, to also rebuild our relationship but what happened had already happened and it was too late for him to reverse the damage. I had grown up fine without him, better than fine, actually, Mom did a stellar job filling the shoes of both parents. Never in a million years did I expect Theo to show up at our door that one night, but being open to those you deem important to your life can reap the greatest rewards. Investing your time in the parts of life that bring you joy is a gift of life you cherish forever. 

That afternoon, the three of us shuffle into a restaurant to commemorate the day. Sitting down, I am brought back to that dinner long ago and I can’t help but notice the vast differences that have occurred since then. Gone were the constant bickering and arguing of two people who no longer loved each other and replaced by the chatter of a family who valued each other. Our unity now at this table reminded me of the priorities I chose to make and how those choices brought me the family that I will cherish forever.