My Father Was The First Time I Broke The Rules

1265 Words6 Pages
The last time I saw my father was the first time I broke the rules. Although I was almost 16 years old, I never dared to disobey my dad’s strict laws he had laid down once my mother disappeared. I never slept at a friend’s house, never attended a party, and always brought nutritious lunches to school; however, good girls can’t be good forever. I had been devising my plans for weeks and finally felt ready to escape the bubble my dad trapped me in. Now that I think about it, I might’ve needed to run away from myself, not my dad. Nevertheless, at 5:00 am, a whole hour before my father usually awoke, my alarm clock started belting out Rhythm of Love by Plain White T’s which coincidentally is my favorite song. I thought that was a definite…show more content…
I could almost imagine my mom sleeping next to him. I fought back tears and looked away so I wouldn’t be tempted to crawl in and snuggle with him as I had done so many times after my mom vanished. I snatched an apple from the fruit bowl, grabbed a box of Tweeties, a cracker-like snack my dad had invented himself, and stuffed them into the bag. Although it was still pitch black outside, I could tell from the porch light that it was drizzling slightly. My mom used to call that pizzling. I smiled in spite of myself thinking that in a matter of days I might hear her use that word again. An hour later, I was squatting on the soaking wet bus bench in the pouring rain. I scolded myself for forgetting my umbrella and wearing the rain jacket that was way too small. I hadn’t gone shopping for a long time, for any free time I had I spent tracking my mom down. Even if I knew it was stupid to run away, I was proud of myself for figuring out my mom’s location all on my own. As far I was concerned, my dad knew absolutely nothing about my risky plans. Using the premium version of White Pages, a highly recommended stalking site, I registered myself as 18 in order to search for my mom. There was nothing under her married name, Christina B. Arnold or her maiden name, Christina L. Berman. However, I remembered her dream name, Zandra H. Thraft. One result popped up when I searched the quirky name. A “46-49 female living in Jamaica Plains”. This magnificent discovery was only the
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