A Family Divided

By Chris Albino

Staff Writer

Even a bond as tight as family can fall apart

There comes a time in every person’s life when it dawns on them that their parents aren’t really superman and superwoman. When I was a child, I believed everything my parents told me because I trusted them. I knew they would never do me any harm. Once my dad told me my younger sister, Alison, was found in a spaceship by the side of the road and had super powers; I was at the hospital when she was born and I still thought maybe Alison flew around with a big cape on when everyone went to bed. The bond between me and my parents was unbreakable. I knew that no matter what happened, my parents would be there for me.

Near the end of August of 2006 the impregnable cloak my parents provided me with slunk off my shoulders. I was exposed to the harsh realities that my parents are flawed. It was a strange few weeks to say the least.

I knew things were off when my dad asked me to go to Bennigan's for dinner with only him. My dad and I had never gone out to dinner alone, so while I didn’t want to admit it, I knew there was going to be more to the night than a mediocre burger at a mediocre price. When I got to the restaurant my dad was already there, sitting alone in a booth in the middle of the cheesy Irish themed restaurant. From the get-go, the situation was going to be an uncomfortable one.

He looked a lot older than he had ever before. His face just seemed tired, withered from a conflicting concoction of guilt and anger. For the first time I felt empathetic when I looked at my dad. Being that my dad’s six feet four inches tall, is a muscular 220 pounds and went through more emotional trauma before the age of 18 than most people do in their entire life span, I never questioned my dad’s strength. That night, however, Dad’s normally stiff upper lip and stoned face expression had vanished and was replaced by concern and self-doubt.

I walked over to my dad and sat down across from him. I figured I’d do my best to keep things light between us in an effort to relieve him from the stress he’d been under those past few days. Mundane conversation failed in the attempt to avoid the lingering tension between us. Our conversation quickly turned from how Mariano Rivera is now touchable due to his old age, to dad’s explanation of his plans to leave the family. As soon as I heard the words “I’m going to be leaving in the next few days,” I immediately disconnected.

 It was as if I was observing our conversation from a distance. Physically I was hearing the words, but in reality my mind had checked out. I’ve always had a knack for repressing anything I deem too “emotional,” which ironically enough, I had developed from the man sitting across from me. As he was bearing his soul, exposed to the possibility of me hating him forever, I simply sat there expressionless. I even agreed with him that it would be a good idea for him to leave when the voice in my head wanted to plead with him to stay.

After leaving the dinner, rain was coming down pretty heavily and we both walked our separate ways in the parking lot. It was like a scene out of a really bad Hugh Grant movie. When I got into my car, I turned on the radio and pulled out of the parking lot. When I got to the main road I was still waiting for things to hit me. My brain told me I should be upset, but the night felt like any other. I figured it would be like a really bad burn, the initial shock of the burn surprises you and then you feel nothing, until that unrelenting burning sensation consumes your finger.  I knew my dad would be packing his bags in the next few days, but it didn’t matter

Two days after dad and I went out for dinner, it was time for me to move into college. The morning of the move things went as normally as they could for a freshman moving into college. Things were a little simpler being that I was going to Fairfield University, which is only 20 minutes from where I live. My mom had promised me that both her and my dad were going to be there and do their best to make things run smoothly. The move was chaotic ,to say the least.

When we arrived, I saw hundreds of families helping one another pull things out of their mini-vans and SUV’s. We blended in as well as we could, pulling the suitcases and duffel bags filled with clothes, computers and school supplies. When I stepped into my building I was greeted by an over excited R.A., way too eager to start the “good times and memories” as he put it; I put on a fake smile that screamed “Get the hell away from me, and relax, buddy.”   Joe informed me the building was without power and they were doing the best they could to get the electricity pumping back into the building. No power meant no elevators, with two suitcases in hand, my laptop over my shoulder and my duffel bag containing my hygiene products, I trudged up five flights of stairs.

When I entered my dorm room, a small Asian family greeted me. Their son, Andrew, was to be one of my roommates. Andrew stood about five feet six inches and weighed maybe 120 pounds. Our families chatted for a few minutes before Andrew’s parents left. My dad and I set up the T.V. while my mom made my bed and my sister complained about how hot it was in the dorm. After about a half hour of unpackin,g it was time for my parents to leave. I walked with my parents outside to the car and hugged my mom and sister and then awkwardly shook my dad’s hand. I stood as they drove away, waving to me the whole way up the parking lot. I can honestly say I’ve never felt worse in my entire life. I felt alone in a crowd of thousands.

The one thing I managed to take solace in was the fact that I was allowed to have a car on campus because of a medical issue. It wasn’t such a good thing because it allowed me to leave campus and go home whenever I felt the slightest bit uncomfortable or homesick. One night I went home because nothing was going on at school and I hadn’t really made any friends yet, so I figured a night with my parents would be a better choice than sulking in my dorm and feeling sorry for myself. When I got home my dad was on the computer, and my mom was downstairs “working”. I was shocked that two people who had been married for over ten years couldn’t even stand being in the same room with one another. Going from family dinners and vacations to a home filled with tension and distance was a difficult adjustment. My inability to feel much was extremely helpful during this time. I took the “manly” approach and simply talked with dad about sports until mom came in to greet me, with no recognition of my dad sitting beside me.

The next morning I didn’t wake up until late  because I happened to have the day off from classes. When I got downstairs, I wasn’t surprised to see my dad sitting in our living room with a suitcase beside him. The time had come, finally, after all the tears, arguments and awkward dinners; my dad was leaving. We just looked at each other. Nothing really needed to be said. I could see he was struggling with the difficulty of walking out the door. Things were actually rather calm, that is, until my mom came downstairs and saw him ready to go.

That’s when things got the most difficult. Immediately she broke down into tears, “How can you do this? How can you leave your daughter, your son?” Even the strongest suppression couldn’t help me from feeling for my mom. I’ll never forget the panic in her voice. As much as I’d like I can’t shake the pain it caused me. She soon realized she had to be there for my younger sister, Alison, so she took her by the hand and walked out the door. My dad and I stood there, staring off into the distance.

I did whatever I could to get my mind off what was going on. So I decided to go to my friend Luiz’s house for a day of video games and relaxing. Fortunately for me, witty and obscure references managed to keep my mind off things. I ended up spending the night there, ducking and dodging any reminder of my family back home.

When I woke up, I realized I needed to go home. My mom and sister would need me to lean on. So I headed home and walked in the door. It took a lot for me to go back into my house. I really didn’t look forward to not seeing my dad there. Much to my surprise, however, he was there. I asked him what he was doing home and he replied, “You guys are all that I have. I’m not going to walk out on that”. I appreciated his answer; it was safe.

Ever since the whole incident with my dad occurred, things haven’t been the same. There’s a definite distance between my family members. As much as my mom tries to cover it with smiles and hugs, it’s there and it’s real. Things probably won’t be the same in my family. There will always be tension and distance. Part of me wishes he would have left. It’s kind of sick in a sense, but it’s the truth. I feel like there’s no closure with the situation. If he had gone at least my mom, sister and I could have moved on.