THIS HAPPENED TO ME | MEMOIR

Paying for My Parent’s Divorce

Stuck in the middle again

Being a child of divorced parents sucks. Being a teenager and an adult of divorced parents sucks too.

When a couple decides to divorce, they likely have no idea of the lasting ripple effect that extends to their children throughout their lives.

Dad’s gone

My parents divorced when I was 7. I thought it was my fault somehow. After all, I’d go to Dad for a second opinion whenever Mom said no. I heard them arguing a few times, and once, Mom even left, slamming the door on her way out. I worried she wouldn’t return and asked Dad if she was coming back. She did after a few hours. When Dad left, he never returned.

The aftermath wasn’t pretty. Mom cried every day. She stayed in bed for hours on end. My brother and I tip-toed around her. She was angry and sad. She still loved my dad and she was lonely. They married when she was 19 and Dad was 20. I was born a year later. Mom did her best to keep a clean house and let Dad buy all the cars he wanted since they were his passion. He liked to fix them up and sell them. Dad bought a gas station, which he was extremely proud of, and for a while things were good.

But they were young and Dad liked to party with his friends. Mom was insecure and needed reassurance and attention, but Dad wasn’t giving it to her. They were already having issues in their relationship when Mom got pregnant with their third child. Then, her baby died shortly after it was born and she sank into a deep depression. Dad didn’t know how to comfort her. They went to a counselor and Mom sat and cried. The counselor noted that Dad didn’t touch Mom during the session or bother to hand her a tissue. Mom has told me the story many times over the years.

Certainly, Mom must have felt like a failure, and the rejection and pain, not only from my Dad’s departure but also the loss of her baby, must have been tremendous. It must have been like being stabbed in the heart with a knife when Mom learned that Dad already had a new girlfriend shortly after moving out of our home.

When Dad came to pick my brother and me up for a weekend visit, his new girlfriend Dora was in the car. Mom saw her and she was furious. She told Dad never to bring Dora to her house again.

Thus, began the bitter battle between a scorned woman and her ex-husband. My brother Dean and I had to deal with the fallout. We were collateral damage and became the pawns in an ugly game of one-upmanship.

Different worlds

When our family was divided, Dean and I had to live in two different worlds. During the week we went to school and lived with mom. On the weekends, we went to the city to stay at Dad’s. Every weekend Mom or Dad would cart us back and forth across the bridge that separated the two towns where we lived. In retrospect, that bridge seems like a significant symbol now. I remember the sadness I felt one particular gray Saturday morning as Mom drove me across the bridge to drop us off at Dad’s. I didn’t want to go. My friends were on the other side of the river.

Each drop-off, whether Mom was taking us to Dad’s or Dad was returning us home, felt like an abandonment. When I was at Mom’s, I missed Dad. When I was at Dad’s, I missed Mom.

Dean, who is younger than I am, made friends in Dad’s neighborhood right away. I didn’t want to make new friends. I already had friends back home. Dad let me bring a friend to stay the night once in a while so that helped.

Growing up, our two family lives were very different — Dad’s had structure and Mom’s lacked it.

The dynamic at Dad’s was the diagram of a family — a husband, wife, and three kids. Mom’s was the aftermath of divorce, a single woman trying to raise two kids while working full time.

Mom had to take us to babysitters when she worked. When she picked us up, she was tired. She’d take us to a restaurant for dinner. Once in a while, she’d cook fish sticks, spaghetti, or her famous hot dog casserole. We didn’t always get the nurturing we needed and wanted from her. It was a chaotic atmosphere and we basically did whatever we wanted. We just needed to be in the house when the streetlights came on.

Generally, the atmosphere at Mom’s was depressing. She was usually in a bad mood, but not always. She took us to the movies and the mall. We also hung around our grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins often, so it wasn’t all doom and gloom. We did fun things.

At Dad and Dora’s, there were chores, baths before bedtime, and Sunday dinners. There was also a bratty little step-sister, which was an adjustment for Dean and me.

The atmosphere at Dad’s was usually fun (remember we were only there on the weekends and sometimes longer during the summers). Dora’s positivity was radiant. She made our weekends fun. She sang silly songs and made us laugh. She baked us cookies and apple dumplings. She was extremely creative and talented and made our Halloween costumes. She organized birthday parties and made our cakes. I was lucky to have a stepmom like Dora. The only bad thing was that Dora put my mom down all the time. So did my dad. It made me angry and it made me think less of them. I didn’t understand why they did it. Were they trying to get me to hate my mom? Was it a competition?

I was surprised when Dad and Dora invited Mom to their house for Christmas Eve. How strange! I didn’t think anything of it at the time because I was a kid, but looking back, I have to wonder if there was an ulterior motive or if Dora was just being kind. We also celebrated Christmas with Mom on our own, so it wasn’t really necessary for them to invite Mom. This was the only positive thing about being a child of divorced parents — we got more presents at Christmas and on our birthdays!

Awkward moments

At times, there were screaming matches between my Mom and Dora and Dad. Well, it was more my Mom screaming at them and slamming their door after she dropped us off for the weekend. Dean and I would stand there in our coats, feeling embarrassed and awkward. I don’t recall why they argued. I believe one argument had to do with Dad and Dora not letting Dean take his new toys home.

After I was molested by Mom’s first boyfriend, Dad found out about it through my uncle. Dad and Dora reported it and Mom had to take Dean and me to the Department of Children & Family Services to be interviewed. Luckily, we weren’t taken away from Mom. That weekend when Mom dropped us off at Dad’s, she walked into their living room and screamed, “Chevie doesn’t want to talk about it” and left me standing there, feeling extremely awkward.

No matter how hard divorced couples with kids try to keep things separate, it seems impossible.

Dad raced stock cars on the weekends and Dora took us kids to watch. I don’t remember the circumstances, but eventually, Mom and her boyfriend took me to the races too. This was before her boyfriend molested me.

After the incident occurred in which her boyfriend preyed upon me in my sleep, I was set to graduate eighth grade. Dad and Dora wanted to take me to dinner, but so did Mom. I went with Dad and Dora and planned to go with Mom another time. I felt guilty about excluding Mom, but I couldn’t be in two places at once. I had moved in with Dad and Dora by this time, so I suppose they were exercising their power to call the shots when it came to me. I understand why they did what they did, but it didn’t make things any easier for me because I missed my Mom.

At the age of 14, I got to travel to Europe with my grandparents. I was super excited. Dad planned to drive my grandparents and me to the airport, but Mom wanted to drive me. She wanted to share in the experience and see me off too. I felt extremely torn and guilty. I didn’t know what to do. I ended up riding with my Dad, but my Mom and brother followed us to the airport. In the cafeteria, I had to divide my time, going back and forth to the table where my Dad and grandparents sat and to the table where my Mom and brother sat. It was awful.

Stuck in the middle again

Throughout my life, I’ve felt like I’m stuck between two people playing tug-of-war. I’ve had to make difficult choices concerning my parents. I didn’t want either of them to think I loved one of them more or less than the other. You’d think after all the birthdays, holidays, and graduations (grade school, high school, junior college, and college), that it would be over, but it wasn’t.

When I announced that I was getting married, Dad and Dora said they would pay for the wedding, which also meant they were calling the shots. This extended to Dora taking me shopping for my wedding dress since they were paying for it. Somehow this seemed wrong. Mom should have been the one helping me pick out my wedding dress. I felt somewhat cheated that I missed out on this memory with my Mom. Luckily, Mom didn’t throw a fit about it, which surprised the hell out of me. She also didn’t care that Dora did all of the decorating at our wedding venue. Mom said she was happy to sit back and relax.

Thank goodness I never had children because giving Dad and Dora and Mom grandchildren would have repeated the entire awkward process of tough decisions all over again.

Even after death

I’ll never in a million years forget the day my Dad died. I received the call on a Sunday and drove to Dora’s house. My Dad’s parents were there, as well as my step-sister and one of Dora’s friends. We sat in the living room, talking quietly. Suddenly, I heard my Mom at the back door, “Is Chevie here?” She walked into the living room where I was sitting and plopped down on the floor next to me, hugged my legs, and began bawling. I could see her tears falling onto my jeans.

I’ve never felt so awkward in my life. I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could do was to leave. I later called Dora and apologized. I told her I didn’t know my Mom was going to come to her home. Dora was understanding and told me not to worry about it. She knew my husband was out of town, so she said it was nice that my Mom was there for me.

Even after my dad’s death, the awkwardness continued, mostly because my Mom doesn’t understand boundaries. She never has and never will. Her parents didn’t teach her social etiquette or boundaries. So, when Dora had a garage sale and I agreed to help, Mom came to the sale. I told her about it, thinking she’d stop by, purchase a few things and be on her way. Nope. Mom pulled up a chair and sat next to me at the checkout table and stayed the entire day. Dora and her friends stared at my Mom and whispered to one another, which didn’t go unnoticed by me.

When Mom began purchasing some of Dad’s tools, Dora asked her why she was buying them. Dora didn’t want my brother to have them because he and my Dad had a falling out. Mom told Dora she was buying them for herself. I felt extremely awkward and when I saw Dora alone in the kitchen, I asked her if she wanted me to leave. She said no, she wanted me to stay. After the sale, Mom and I went to McDonald’s and I explained to her that she had overstayed her welcome. I told her that Dora isn’t her friend. She cried and I felt horrible.

Sometimes we have to be honest and hurt the ones we love. It’s not easy and I’m sure I’ll live with the guilt long after my parents are gone.

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