Charming's Star

By @L-R-Battista
Charming's Star

This is the story of Delilah Letters, a nineteen-year-old college student. She aspires to be a screenwriter or director and dive into her imaginary worlds. However, life has other plans. After all, nothing really goes as planned. This is a short story right now, but it might become a long story. I know the description is vague but give it a chance. Hope you enjoy, L-R-Battista Side Note: I do not own the cover, it belongs to its rightful owner whom, I thank for creating such beautiful art.

Chapter 5

Love Wasn\'t Enough

But you know the saying, “Things aren’t always what they seem?” Well, it’s true. At least in my parents’ case. I came home one Friday night from a football game, I played at in the pep band at the time, to find a big blow-out fight;

      “I can’t believe you didn’t ask me,” my father yelled.

      “What was there to ask?” my mother shouted.

      “Oh, I dunno. You took a big sum of money from the savings account that we BOTH SHARE without asking.” my father snarled, clutching his fists.

       “I wanted to be a surprise! I wanted to take the whole family to Hawaii!” my mother pouted crossing her arms.

       “Hawaii? Are you kidding me?! We can’t possibly afford that right now! Not with two kids in private school and all their fees and the new car we had to get because you totaled the last one!” my father shouted, his face turning purplish-red.

        “We never do anything anymore! It’s always: “We can’t afford it” or “We can’t leave the kids” or something else! I’m tired of it!”

         My father chuckled and shook his head.

        “It’s called parenting teenagers who go to really expense schools, Rach.”

        “They’re not babies anymore Remi! Their fourteen and fifteen! They can take care of themselves for a week or so!” my mom protested but my father was having none of it.

        “There still our children who need our guidance and support. Jeremy is going to college in a few years and Lia right after that. And Hawaii is not cheap Rach. Not to mention, what happened the last time we went away,” my father argued.

    I sighed and kicked off my shoes in the closet and hung up my coat. He was probably referring to the time they went to New York City for their anniversary and Jeremy, being a *******, decided to throw a party that not only trashed the house but got busted by the police and written up on his record.

         “That was one time. Jeremy said he wouldn’t do it again,” my mom said.

         My dad shook his again, letting out a low laugh.

        “Do you really think so? Boy, you forget what’s it’s like to be a ***********

        “That’s why we need this trip Remi! I feel like our Love is dying!” my mom dramatically proclaimed, waving her arms.

         My dad sighed and walked over to my mom,

       “Just because we haven’t done anything fun or romantic doesn’t mean our Love is dying. Love doesn’t just die because our kids enter high school.”

       “Then who do I feel like its dying?” my mom whispered to no one in particular.

Tears raced down my dad’s face and he pulled my mom into a hug.

         “I don’t know, Rach. I just don’t know.”

My mom went to Hawaii with her girlfriend while Dad panicked about the mounting bills. I decided to get a job washing dishes at a local diner to help. My dad looked exhausted, with half-moon purple circles under his eyes and countless wrinkles furrowing his forehead.

 After mom got home, they tried marriage counseling. But, only my dad was really trying. He would, with the help of Jeremey and I, plan nice home dinners and dates, but my mom continued her wild spending. More bills piled on my dad’s dresser and my dad was working so much, he barely slept. 

I took on more shifts, and left the money on his desk, knowing he would never take it if I handed it to him personally. Even, Jeremey, the lazy ass, got a job, because he was concerned about dad. But it wasn’t enough, I mean, I should probably mention, this was before, my mom went to law school and my dad was an Art Teacher, which didn’t pay well for trips to Hawaii.

 Mom, at the time, was unemployed. Eventually, one December Tuesday after school, my brother and I reached a decision: We would transfer to the public school in order to free dad’s money to pay for things around the house like the electricity. Because it got shut off the night before because he didn’t have enough money until today.

     So, we hesitantly approached his desk:

    “Dad?” I asked, biting my lip, afraid he would freak out.

     He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, brown hair sticking out on all sides and attempted to smile,

     “What is it, sweetie? Something wrong?” he questioned, a worried look in his eyes.

     I shake my head and clear my throat and said, “Me, I mean, Jeremy and I, would like to transfer to the public school.”

     His brows furrowed at that and he dropped his pen on the table.

    “What? Why? Do you not like Bishop Shanahan?” he questioned.

     “No, we love it, but…” I stuttered, not sure what to say but my brother piped in;

     “We think it will be easier for you for us to transfer, at least, money wise.”

     Dad for a second looked at both of us, with wide eyes, and then deflates visibly in his chair.

     “I thank you guys for your concern but you don’t need to that. You guys love your school, you’re not leaving,” he said, a final tone in his voice. Not knowing what to say to that, we nodded and walked away.

Apparently, us asking to transfer schools was the last straw, my dad went to a lawyer and filed for a divorce. We could tell, when he came home that day and asked our mother to sign the papers, who was sporting a new pair of diamond earrings and a new pair of heels, that he was heartbroken. He really loved our mother, but he loved us as well. And we were barely scraping by. It was an ugly divorce. My grandparents, mom’s parent’s, were filthy rich from owning a chain of convenient stores and hired a **** good lawyer. 

This, very lawyer, argued how our mother was the better parent (not true) and was taking care of us just fine (also, not true). It was obvious the jury didn’t believe her but they’re feared, my grandparents. My mom got custody and my dad got visiting hours.To her credit, my mother did clean up her act. She went to law school, paid for by her parents and “re-discovered” her purpose in life. She then began practicing at my Uncle’s law firm.

Three years later while she was dropping me off to visit my dad, she walked up to him with an envelope and said;

      “This is all the money I spent before we divorced. It is paid back in every cent. I’m truly sorry, I spent so much.”

     My father cracked a smiled but refused to take the money.He still loved my mother, I could tell his soft ****** expression he wore as she drove away in her white Acura.And, some part of my mother, loved him too, for saving up all that money and attempting to pay him back.But, that love wasn’t enough to bring back our broken family. The damage was already done. 

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