[ n i n e ]
March 2nd 2008.
"No, Ross. You're the one who needs to sort this shit out. Not me," Ashleigh's mother exclaimed.
"Why would I? This is your fault, Marissa, and you're the one who needs to face the consequences. Have you learnt nothing from the past?" her father argued.
"Me? I've learnt everything the past has thrown at me. You are just being a stupid brat, who doesn't consider his wife's feelings!" she replied, stubbornly.
"Doesn't consider his wife's feelings?" he repeated, "Marissa . . . I'm always thinking about your feelings. Why? Because I love you. I don't love Candice. She's just a girl who works at the cafe I go to every day."
Ashleigh sat on the top of the stair case, and watched her parents throw snarky, yet logical comebacks at each other. Despite the fact she understood almost nothing between the two of them, she attempted to process as much of it in.
'What are mummy and daddy fighting about?' she thought, over and over.
A frown adorned her facial features, as she watched her mother allow a tear to roll down her face. In a distressed manner, her mum ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair, which had started to white over the years - but only barely.
Her face scrunched up as she permitted herself to think about the conversation she had just had with her husband.
Then, she looked like one of the most vicious women ever - maybe a bit like the well known historical figure of Boudica? She pursed her lips and pressed them together, tightly.
Ashleigh had no clue what was going on, but sheabsolutely despised seeing anyone like this. Seeing other people cry made her want to cry.
"I can't do this anymore," her mother breathed out. It was almost as if a ghost had whispered it out. Her chest heaved up and down, from the argument that had just occured. She looked like she had just run a forty kilometre long marathon. She was huffing and her hair was messy, from running her fingers through it so much.
"What do you mean you can't?" her father replied, in a voice that was much softer than previously.
"I'm leaving."
She announced this as if nothing would be able to change her mind anymore. She had firmly made her decision, and she wasn't going to turn back again.
"Leaving?" he echoed.
Her mother nodded slightly. "Yes. I'm leaving."
-
Two weeks later, Ashleigh's parents had officially signed the divorce papers. They were finally separated. She lived with her father in the house alone, after her mother left the two of them.
The feeling of desertion took place and the house was a whole lot quieter. Something was missing.
"Where's mummy?" the young girl asked her father, innocently. This was the first day after the divorce. Thursday.
"Gone," he replied.
He sounded so broken. Even Ashleigh noticed this and she was only at the mere age of eight.
His voice sounded like it would break, like a thin sheet of glass on the verge of shattering into pieces. He was heartbroken. He had loved this woman for over a decade - he still did - and she just left.
"Gone?" she repeated, cluelessly.
"Yeah . . . Gone."
He would spend the vast majority of his day locked up in his room, moping over his lost love.
Fuck love.
Ashleigh noticed how antisocial her father had been, and decided not to question it. She would find out herself. She was determiend to.
She started to split her time. Both her parents wanted to see her. Ashleigh started to spend her Monday's to Friday's with her dad, but for the weekends, she would go with her mother.
Things never seemed to be simple for her.
