Enjoy:
The Worst Thing They Ever Said
I said goodbye to Peter the day before I left. My parents and I were in our Lincoln Town Car, driving to the shelter on that Saturday morning. Huddled into the backseat, I looked at my dad through the rearview mirror. Despite all the Botox he had gotten, he looked aged. His perfectly spray-tanned face was tired and looked worried.
My mom’s makeup was perfectly applied and every perfect hair on her head was perfectly in place. Her daughter being pregnant from an unknown father had no effect on her appearance. She probably didn’t even care that much.
The only thing that was partially wrong with my mom were the faint dark circles under her eyes that she had tried to cover up with mounds of foundation. Both she and my dad had them. In these past weeks they had just the same amount of sleep as I had, my screams periodically woke them up. Otherwise, they were still their perfect selves
We didn’t speak. My dad just listened to a monotonous discussion about the recent election on the radio and my mom filled in a crossword puzzle. I tried to close my eyes and block out the day, but Carl’s face flashed behind my lids. The whole scene of that night played in my mind, shaking like an old video. With a gasp I opened my eyes again.
My mom looked back. Her face flashed with concern then went blank, covering every emotion. I cleared my throat. I hated them being this angry with me.
“I know you guys are mad,” I softly said. My mom scoffed and turned back around and my dad turned up the volume on the radio. I continued, ignoring their immaturity. “But I really am sorry. I know you don’t believe me, when I say that I don’t know who the father is, and you have a right to. But trust me; it’s better to not know.”
My dad’s eyebrows incredulously rose.
“I hope you can forgive me. I know I screwed up, and I know that I’ve disappointed you and our relationship will never be the same. Just please try and forgive me,” I said. My dad abruptly turned off the radio and glared at me in the rearview mirror.
“Isabelle, you have singlehandedly ruined all of our lives and you expect me to forgive you just like that?” he growled. His tone sparked anger in me.
“Ruined all of our lives? How will me having a baby ruin your life, Dad? I’m the one who’s pregnant, I’m the one who has to deal with this thing and I’m the one who is being forced to live in some group home! Please tell me how you’re being affected, Dad, I would really like to know!” I yelled.
“Can you imagine how this will ruin my campaign?” he screamed back.
“Oh I’m sorry,” I said, feigning regret, “I’m sorry the fact that I was raped is hurting your highly acclaimed career, Dad!” I yelled. My mom’s face turned white and she turned back to look at me. Woops, I thought, I used the word.
“Raped?” my mom echoed in a whisper. “Who was it, Isabelle? You tell me this instant!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean rape. I was just in a fit of anger,” I quietly backtracked. Though both of them looked unsatisfied, they didn’t respond. My dad turned the radio on as loud as it could go.
We rounded the corner to the shelter’s driveway.
“Do me a favor,” I mumbled, when my dad turned off the radio. “Don’t tell the family.”
“Oh yes, because that’s on the top of my list,” my dad snapped. “Everyone in the family likes Carl best, there’s no reason to drop your popularity level.” I banged my head on the back of the headrest so I wouldn’t scream at him.
Carl is the golden boy of the family. He’s taking all college level classes and has straight A’s, he’s never gotten in any trouble. After my parents disregarded the times when we were three, they saw all of his redeeming qualities; the way he always kissed my mom on the cheek and strongly shook my dad’s hand when he greeted them, the way he spoke using perfect grammar, the way he had taken it upon himself to make up thousands of posters for my dad’s campaign.
Although I was never very troublesome, all of my good actions were overshadowed by Carl.
“Why couldn’t you be more like him? Carl never gets into any trouble, Isabelle, he’s such a good kid,” my mom mused. I stared at her in unbelief, tears forming in my eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, glaring at her blonde head. I blinked back the tears. My dad abruptly got out of the car and slammed the door shut. My mom followed and stood on the curb while he got out my suitcases. He didn’t wait for me to get out, he yanked open my door and pulled me out by my wrist.
Thanks for reading!
~Dommy
