“I don’t understand why you always come home so late! You claim to be at work, but when I call the office, I’m told that you aren’t there!” -“What I don’t understand is why you’re always yelling!” I heard my parents bawl at each other from the dining room. They had spent the last hour arguing at the top of their lungs about God knows what in the kitchen. This had been going on for quite some time now, and I was getting worried.
It all started about two months ago, when I announced that I had been accepted to the most prestigious ballet school in the world… in Russia. I knew that asking to go would not be fair of me to ask my parents. They simply didn’t have the money to pay for me to live across the world; but it was that day that things began to change between them. It began with little changes such as smiling less at each other, talking only briefly, and barely looking at each other in the eyes. As the days went by though, things went from bad to worse. They yelled at each other constantly, visibly hurting each others’ feelings. Then, sometime along the way, they sat me down and my mom told me: “Sara honey, your father and I decided that this is no way to live. Therefore, we are getting a divorce.” I was so startled and taken by surprise that I began to laugh. After what she had told me sunk in, I froze, staring into blank space before bawling my eyes out. My heart was hurting in my chest. From then on, they both began to constantly ask me who I would prefer living with. I simply did not have the heart to turn one of them down, so I never said anything. Instead, I always kept quiet and fled to my room, my throat burning. But then, the situation got even worse when they started to argue over who would have me, and when. Exasperated, my mom announced: “Alright John that is enough. I am her mother, so I should get her custody since you do not want to cooperate.” When she said this, I knew by the look in my dad’s eyes that he was not about to let that happen. They were arguing about this for the fifth time this week. My dad came over to our house just to argue with my mom. I was beginning to get sick of it, so I created a plan. I decided to run away.
“It is over my dead body that you will take my angel away from me!” my dad was saying as I passed by. I stopped just long enough to see the anger and pain in my mom’s face when she said coolly: “Well, that can be arranged.” The cold evening breeze slapped me across the face as soon as I stepped out the back door. The sky was eerily dark, the moon and stars hidden behind clouds. The darkness was no problem, for I knew the road leading to where I would hide from my parents’ nonsense like the back of my hand. The backpack I brought with me began to weigh on my shoulders after a couple of minutes, but I could not stop and risk them noticing my absence. If they did, they would immediately come looking for me. A cat jumped into a trash can next to the driveway of one of the houses I passed by, making me lunge forward in fear. “Stupid cat.” I muttered under my breath.
After about a thirty minute walk, I rang the doorbell to a house. “Sara? What are you doing out here all alone on such a cold night?” my grandma (on my father’s side) said mortified. “Did you walk all the way here?” “I did Nana.” I told her. My grandpa came up behind her eating a cookie, muttering once again about how wrong the Russian government is. Guessing he had been watching the news, I told her: “I couldn’t take mom and dad’s fighting anymore! It all started when I asked to go to dance school in Russia. I ruined my family! This is all my fault.” I sobbed on the front steps. Nana looked surprised. “Don’t speak like that. Come in darling. Let your nana make you some hot chocolate.” She told me soothingly, putting her arms around me before guiding me into the house. “Why in the good name of the Lord would you want to go to that filthy country?” my grandpa was saying from behind. Nana shot him a cold look. Then, she sat me down at the kitchen table, my grandpa right behind her, looking from Nana to me. “Listen honey,” she started. “I know that this has been hard on all of you. God knows your dad’s been asking us to help him get your custody! I don’t even know how things got this far. But you cannot run away from your problems, because they will run right back to you.” She continued with a serious look on her face. “Your parents are probably worried sick right now.” As soon as she said parents, the bell rang, and I knew that my problems had run right over to find me.
As soon as my grandma opened the front door, my parents came flying into the foyer. “Sara! You had me worried sick!” my mom told me scowling. “Well, if you had been spending time with her like I would if she lived with me, she would not have run away!” my dad exclaimed. My grandma looked coldly at both of them. “John, Catherine, don’t you guys understand that it is because of your constant bickering that my poor baby came here to hide out?” she yelled. “You need to start acting like adults! And how dare you not tell me that my Sara got accepted to a dance school in Russia?” she asked with a suspicious look on her face. None of my parents answered, instead allowing their eyes to drop and examine their shoes. This was pretty weird. My dad shared everything going on at home with his parents, down to my latest Chemistry grade. Unlike my mom and her parents, who had not spoken to each other since she married my dad, he had a close relationship with his parents. My grandma didn’t insist, allowing her question to be unanswered. After a couple silent moments, my parents and I said our goodbyes and were on our way back home.
When my dad pulled up into the driveway, he put the car into park, but didn’t unlock the doors. Both my parents turned towards me, and began to tell me a story that I could not comprehend. My mom started: “Honey, we are so sorry that our fighting drove you away. The truth is, your father and I are more in love than ever.” She said looking at him with tear filled eyes and holding his hand. I thought she had lost her mind. Judging by the confused look displayed across my face, she knew that I had not understood a word she said. Then, they both began explaining. They explained how they had spent the past two months pretending to be getting a divorce, to hate each other, and to live separately (my dad had apparently been coming to sleep at our house every night). They pretended to be fighting for custody of me so that their parents could assist them financially. They had been taking that money and saving it to pay for my stay in Russia. I was so shocked tears streamed down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you just ask grandma and grandpa for help? Why did you have to lie?” I cried. “Well honey, you know how strongly my American parents, especially my dad feel about Russia. He would never have agreed to help getting you there.” My dad explained. “And since my parents hated the fact that I married your dad so much, I figured that if they thought I was divorcing him, they would help… which they did.” My mom said tears streaming down her own cheeks. “But why?” I still asked. “We were afraid that if we didn’t find a way for you to follow your dreams, you would be miserable, and blame and hate us for the rest of your life.” They both said they voices cracking. I was so heartfelt that I could not muster a response to this confession. I could not believe the sacrifices my parents had been ready to willingly do, just so that I could dance. At that point, I lunged forward and hugged them both tightly.
In the end, my parents did what was right and were ready to give each of their parents the money back. After their confessions, all four of my grandparents allowed them to keep the money, since they had gone through so much to give me the chance to do what I loved. This brought my mom and her parents back on speaking terms. Since they now had the money to pay for my stay, my parents and I then began to plan my trip. We chose everything together, from which apartment I would visit when I got there, to what coat to buy online. Although I felt the pain they were experiencing while helping me pack, they did this with smiles on their faces. During the last couple of weeks before my departure, we were inseparable, bonding to make up in advance for the time we would spend apart. When the day for me to leave came too quickly, we all cried, hugged, and cried some more. They lectured me on being safe and on taking my dance lessons seriously, before bawling their eyes out once again. It was as I was waving them goodbye at the plane’s gate, my throat burning at tears filling my eyes, that I realized I would have survived if I had not gone to Russia. I did not mind staying with the amazing parents I had been blessed with. The parents that would do anything to let me follow my dreams. As I stood at the plane’s entryway, I realized that I regretted not being able to do this very thing.
It all started about two months ago, when I announced that I had been accepted to the most prestigious ballet school in the world… in Russia. I knew that asking to go would not be fair of me to ask my parents. They simply didn’t have the money to pay for me to live across the world; but it was that day that things began to change between them. It began with little changes such as smiling less at each other, talking only briefly, and barely looking at each other in the eyes. As the days went by though, things went from bad to worse. They yelled at each other constantly, visibly hurting each others’ feelings. Then, sometime along the way, they sat me down and my mom told me: “Sara honey, your father and I decided that this is no way to live. Therefore, we are getting a divorce.” I was so startled and taken by surprise that I began to laugh. After what she had told me sunk in, I froze, staring into blank space before bawling my eyes out. My heart was hurting in my chest. From then on, they both began to constantly ask me who I would prefer living with. I simply did not have the heart to turn one of them down, so I never said anything. Instead, I always kept quiet and fled to my room, my throat burning. But then, the situation got even worse when they started to argue over who would have me, and when. Exasperated, my mom announced: “Alright John that is enough. I am her mother, so I should get her custody since you do not want to cooperate.” When she said this, I knew by the look in my dad’s eyes that he was not about to let that happen. They were arguing about this for the fifth time this week. My dad came over to our house just to argue with my mom. I was beginning to get sick of it, so I created a plan. I decided to run away.
“It is over my dead body that you will take my angel away from me!” my dad was saying as I passed by. I stopped just long enough to see the anger and pain in my mom’s face when she said coolly: “Well, that can be arranged.” The cold evening breeze slapped me across the face as soon as I stepped out the back door. The sky was eerily dark, the moon and stars hidden behind clouds. The darkness was no problem, for I knew the road leading to where I would hide from my parents’ nonsense like the back of my hand. The backpack I brought with me began to weigh on my shoulders after a couple of minutes, but I could not stop and risk them noticing my absence. If they did, they would immediately come looking for me. A cat jumped into a trash can next to the driveway of one of the houses I passed by, making me lunge forward in fear. “Stupid cat.” I muttered under my breath.
After about a thirty minute walk, I rang the doorbell to a house. “Sara? What are you doing out here all alone on such a cold night?” my grandma (on my father’s side) said mortified. “Did you walk all the way here?” “I did Nana.” I told her. My grandpa came up behind her eating a cookie, muttering once again about how wrong the Russian government is. Guessing he had been watching the news, I told her: “I couldn’t take mom and dad’s fighting anymore! It all started when I asked to go to dance school in Russia. I ruined my family! This is all my fault.” I sobbed on the front steps. Nana looked surprised. “Don’t speak like that. Come in darling. Let your nana make you some hot chocolate.” She told me soothingly, putting her arms around me before guiding me into the house. “Why in the good name of the Lord would you want to go to that filthy country?” my grandpa was saying from behind. Nana shot him a cold look. Then, she sat me down at the kitchen table, my grandpa right behind her, looking from Nana to me. “Listen honey,” she started. “I know that this has been hard on all of you. God knows your dad’s been asking us to help him get your custody! I don’t even know how things got this far. But you cannot run away from your problems, because they will run right back to you.” She continued with a serious look on her face. “Your parents are probably worried sick right now.” As soon as she said parents, the bell rang, and I knew that my problems had run right over to find me.
As soon as my grandma opened the front door, my parents came flying into the foyer. “Sara! You had me worried sick!” my mom told me scowling. “Well, if you had been spending time with her like I would if she lived with me, she would not have run away!” my dad exclaimed. My grandma looked coldly at both of them. “John, Catherine, don’t you guys understand that it is because of your constant bickering that my poor baby came here to hide out?” she yelled. “You need to start acting like adults! And how dare you not tell me that my Sara got accepted to a dance school in Russia?” she asked with a suspicious look on her face. None of my parents answered, instead allowing their eyes to drop and examine their shoes. This was pretty weird. My dad shared everything going on at home with his parents, down to my latest Chemistry grade. Unlike my mom and her parents, who had not spoken to each other since she married my dad, he had a close relationship with his parents. My grandma didn’t insist, allowing her question to be unanswered. After a couple silent moments, my parents and I said our goodbyes and were on our way back home.
When my dad pulled up into the driveway, he put the car into park, but didn’t unlock the doors. Both my parents turned towards me, and began to tell me a story that I could not comprehend. My mom started: “Honey, we are so sorry that our fighting drove you away. The truth is, your father and I are more in love than ever.” She said looking at him with tear filled eyes and holding his hand. I thought she had lost her mind. Judging by the confused look displayed across my face, she knew that I had not understood a word she said. Then, they both began explaining. They explained how they had spent the past two months pretending to be getting a divorce, to hate each other, and to live separately (my dad had apparently been coming to sleep at our house every night). They pretended to be fighting for custody of me so that their parents could assist them financially. They had been taking that money and saving it to pay for my stay in Russia. I was so shocked tears streamed down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you just ask grandma and grandpa for help? Why did you have to lie?” I cried. “Well honey, you know how strongly my American parents, especially my dad feel about Russia. He would never have agreed to help getting you there.” My dad explained. “And since my parents hated the fact that I married your dad so much, I figured that if they thought I was divorcing him, they would help… which they did.” My mom said tears streaming down her own cheeks. “But why?” I still asked. “We were afraid that if we didn’t find a way for you to follow your dreams, you would be miserable, and blame and hate us for the rest of your life.” They both said they voices cracking. I was so heartfelt that I could not muster a response to this confession. I could not believe the sacrifices my parents had been ready to willingly do, just so that I could dance. At that point, I lunged forward and hugged them both tightly.
In the end, my parents did what was right and were ready to give each of their parents the money back. After their confessions, all four of my grandparents allowed them to keep the money, since they had gone through so much to give me the chance to do what I loved. This brought my mom and her parents back on speaking terms. Since they now had the money to pay for my stay, my parents and I then began to plan my trip. We chose everything together, from which apartment I would visit when I got there, to what coat to buy online. Although I felt the pain they were experiencing while helping me pack, they did this with smiles on their faces. During the last couple of weeks before my departure, we were inseparable, bonding to make up in advance for the time we would spend apart. When the day for me to leave came too quickly, we all cried, hugged, and cried some more. They lectured me on being safe and on taking my dance lessons seriously, before bawling their eyes out once again. It was as I was waving them goodbye at the plane’s gate, my throat burning at tears filling my eyes, that I realized I would have survived if I had not gone to Russia. I did not mind staying with the amazing parents I had been blessed with. The parents that would do anything to let me follow my dreams. As I stood at the plane’s entryway, I realized that I regretted not being able to do this very thing.