Member-only story
“You’re My Rock”
From the Diary of a Parentified Daughter
I am nine when my father runs off with his 23-year-old secretary. He leaves a note on my mother’s pillow: I just don’t love you anymore. I know this because I find the crumpled piece of paper in the garbage can after my mother falls asleep on the couch. Then I read it in my closet with my Mickey Mouse flashlight.
The message is written in black marker and all the words are in capital letters. Even my father’s name at the end — Peter — is written this way.
My sister Allison says it sounds more final like that. She is three years older and knows more about grown-up things than I do.
A few days later, Allison goes to stay with our dad and The Other Woman. It’s just for a week or so, she says. Dad wants me there.
It never occurs to me to ask Allision if he wants me there, too, but I already know he doesn’t.
Allison doesn’t seem very sad about how things have changed, but I am. Mostly because our mother cries all week, so I have to spend a lot of time hugging her and telling her it’s going to be okay. She barely eats, and she doesn’t bother to change her clothes. Eventually, I walk to the store to buy a dozen eggs and a loaf of Wonder Bread, so I can make myself some French toast. I have French toast for dinner all week…
