I sat at the kitchen table, one hand clutching a now cold cup of coffee and in the other hand my fingers nervously tapped the table repeatedly. The house was filled with an uncomfortable silence. My eyes shifted to the door and back every few seconds as the lonely sound of the clock continued to tick away the seconds that would never be gained back, the minutes that would be never gained back, and the hours that would never be gained back. I wanted to think of a logical explanation of why he was not home. I tried to tell myself that he was just held up at work or that he maybe had car trouble, but I knew I was lying to myself. I knew he was with her. He was always with her. I hated her but I am still sitting here at 1:00 in the morning on a school night.
I wasn’t going to bed till he got home. Mom went to bed around 10:00 pretending like she didn’t care that dad was out late again, wherever the hell he is exactly. All I know is that he is with her. My two younger siblings, Julie and Max, went to bed earlier totally oblivious of everything.
My eyelids were beginning to feel like a bowling ball was on top of each of them, making me force myself to keep my eyes open. This coffee sure wasn’t working. I banged my head on the table with frustration. I was exhausted. I am always exhausted due to lack of sleep because of nights like these. These nights are occurring more frequently each month. I always stay up late waiting for my dad to come home even though I know he is with her. I just have to make sure he is okay. When I hear him starting to unlock the door I run to my room pretending I was asleep the whole time. He has no idea I wait for him to come home because I am always so paranoid about everything. I always fear the worse because everything bad always happens to me.
The clock struck 1:15 interrupting my thoughts. My eyes, being forced to stay open, became watery. Where was he? Anxiety grew more and more within me with every second the clock ticked. I was so tired but I am sure when he gets home and I will go to lie down in bed and then I will be scared to drift into sleep. Some people sleep like a rock and feel and dream nothing in their sleep. Some people have reoccurring terrifying nightmares. Me, I have different dreams each night about all about my fears, feelings, and desires. These are things I do not want to be reminded about while I sleep. I have to think about it all day, why do I have to be reminded of it during my sleep?
Some of my fears are, my dad leaving us for her, my dad hating us, my dad hurting us emotionally more, my dad never coming home one night, my family falling more apart, etc. In my dreams all my fears come true. My feelings are, well, I don’t know exactly. I really don’t know what I feel and it makes me feel so stupid and lost. So I am reminded of my confusion in my sleep. And my desires are: a dad to love me, a dad to love the family, for me to be the perfect daughter my dad wish he had, for me to keep this family together, for me to be happy.
I sometimes dream about this stuff coming true in my dreams but I know it will never happen in real life so it saddens me. And even in my dreams my desires usually go wrong just like my life. So bottom line, I am kind of scared to go to sleep. I never know what I am going to dream and how it’s going to upset me.
I decided maybe some knitting would help pass the time and clear my mind. I quietly creep up the stairs in my eerie dark house. I pass my mom’s bedroom and her door is ajar. Her room is dark but I know she is wake by the muffled sound of sobs coming from her room. Mom knows that dad is with her, but she does nothing about it. She pretends everything is super duper, when it is defiantly not. But today when she got home from work she seemed more upset than usual and I don’t know why. I ask her what’s wrong but she tells me she is okay.
I debated on whether I should go into my mom’s room but I decided to leave her to her thoughts. I grabbed my knitting and presumed my spot in the kitchen. I knitted a few stitches but didn’t really seem to get into it. Then the air kicked on and it sent papers flying off the counter. I went to pick it all up and saw that it was the mail. I shuffled through the stack curiously. It all consisted of bills, more bills, and magazines. We don’t have much money so there was nothing real interesting, but at the bottom of the pile a crumpled letter caught my attention. I opened it inquiringly and realized exactly why my mom had been so upset. It was a letter from her. How dare she! The letter read:

Dear lonely pathetic Annie,
I think it’s so adorable how Clint keeps a cute little housewife around the house. You do all the chores, cook, take care of the little brats, and hold down a job. I am pretty impressed. Maybe when Clint and I get married you can be our housewife. I am sure you will do a tremendous job. And who knows, maybe someday a man will see whatever there is to see in you and fall in love. Ha! I crack myself up. Keep doing what you do and Clint and I will keep doing what we do.
Kisses,
Sandra.

My hands clenched the stupid note as my fists tightened. I cannot believe she would be as low and shallow to send this to my mom! How dare she even get the nerve to send this letter! That slutty bitch! If I ever see her I am going to hurt her. My mom is not a housewife, us kids are not little brats, and my mom will find a man to treat her right one day and he will see all the good in her that my dad doesn’t see. I don’t know what my dad see’s in her. I can’t even say her name.
I saw a picture of her once. Her and my dad was at the beach down on the peer here in Miami. Her long prefect curly blond hair shined in the sun against her perfect tan skin. Her blue eyes glistened like the water. She has a bikini on, showing off her perfect body. They stood on the peer with the ocean in the background. She was right next to my dad with one hand around his waist and one hand on his chest. She was such a fake. Fake tan, fake body, fake hair, fake everything. I hate her. I wasn’t meant to find the picture but I was getting suspicious about a year ago. My dad was gone a lot so I went rummaging through his belongings and found the cold hard truth. My heart shattered and has been shattering everyday ever since.
I jumped as I heard keys jingle from outside. He was home. I put the mail jumble back on the counter, grabbed my knitting, and dashed into my room. The door opened and my dad stepped in. A part of me wished he would come into my room and kiss me on the forehead and tell me to have sweet dreams, just like never has. But my hopes were shattered as he pattered up the stairs like normal. There is no hope left.