The D-Word

Preface

I always wanted to write for the young-adult crowd. When I began this work, I thought that’s what I was doing. I was wrong. A few pages into it I realized that I wasn’t writing this piece for “Gina”. I was writing it for her parents, grandparents, teachers and a multitude of other adults who might influence her during such an impressionable time.

For many years, I’ve held onto the passionate belief that families should evolve and not dissolve through the process of a divorce. For as many years, I’ve been saddened by the frequency with which the opposite effect comes to fruition. My intention for this book is to allow those involved in a divorce to regard the situation from different perspectives. My hope is that such consideration will promote more positive interactions, thus encouraging a healthier transition for divorcing families.

I’d like to recognize my parents, for showing me that a good divorce is possible. I’d also like to express gratitude for my ex-husband for helping me attain my own good divorce. To those of you who served, and will serve, as teachers throughout my quest for knowledge, thank you. All interactions provide an opportunity to learn and grow.

Reader, I wish you a peaceful and prosperous evolution…

Chapter 1: June

It was five days before my twelfth birthday when it happened, when my whole life changed. It was a Wednesday night in June, just a couple weeks before the end of the school year.

My mom went shopping after dinner, leaving my dad home with me and my brother, Danny. We cleaned up the kitchen together and then set to work on the rest of the house. We had a pillow fight in the living room, and we played catch with a plastic orange from the dining room table. My dad always found a way to make chores seem like fun. Even when he helped us with our homework, he pretended that he was the student and Danny and I were the teachers. He asked us to teach him the lesson, and by the time we were done, we didn’t need his help at all!

I was upset when my mom came home and my parents started fighting. It was past bedtime, and I was supposed to be asleep, but they woke me up. It wasn’t unusual. The fight was pretty standard: they were arguing about my dad not sweeping behind the toilet and my mom being a drill sergeant and my grandmother being too nosey and my aunt being a showoff … And then he said it. Actually, he didn’t say anything at first. It was oddly quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Jill, I don’t want to live like this anymore. It’s not fair to the kids, and it’s not fair to us. I think we should get a divorce.”

My mother started shouting again, but I didn’t hear what she was saying because Danny burst into my room. He was crying as he jumped on my bed and clung to me. I put my arms around him and rubbed his back.

“Gina, I’m scared. What’s going to happen now?” he asked me.

I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t know what was going to happen. The truth was that I was as scared and confused as he was, but I wasn’t crying. I didn’t cry because I had to be strong for Danny. He was only six years old.

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “It’s going to be OK. They’re just fighting like usual. You know how they say things they don’t mean.”