Then You Are Gone

s i x t e e n

JANUARY 12, 2015

Out of Boston, soon

Hello, Mom. It's been a while. I haven't written for months. Some bad shit happened. I'm happy though. I know it sounds a little masochistic, but I'll explain why.

Remember my last entry? November? We had a football match, and yeah, we lost. You know what it means when I lose. A couple of lectures, then a couple of punches to reinforce it, to release his hatred, maybe. I don't know anymore. Yeah, we lost. Not my fault, though. I really prepared for the match. It's just we were out of luck. My teammate, Ivan, he's the quarterback, and he fucked up the entire game. I confronted him right after the match. I started blaming him (stupid, I know) but he just smiled at me, apologized, told me it was just a game, there's still next, Ian, calm down.

Of course, I couldn't calm down. It wasn't just a game for me. He doesn't know what it means for me to lose a game. Losing means punches. I actually meant to punch him, but his parents arrived, and he told them about my freak out party, and they invited me to an aftergame celebration, something of a weird ritual their family do. We looked for father to get a permission, but he wasn't in the parking lot. His car was, though. I know I should have waited there for him like a good boy I should be, but I was honestly grateful that Ivan's parents are taking me away from my father's hands, even just for few minutes.

We went to an ice cream parlor. I was as green as my mint chocolate chip, sitting there, watching Ivan's family have fun even though we just lost a match. Pretty normal family, I'll say. And Ivan's dad? He's great. He seems to have never hit Ivan before. He cracks a joke when the opportunity arises. He's fun, and you know, I wonder why you didn't marry a man like him. I'm sorry, I'm being mean, I know, but of all men in the world, I just don't get why you married my father.

We spent more than an hour there in the ice cream parlor. When they drove me back to the house, all the lights were off. I figured father was probably still waiting at the parking lot. He was, and he was talking to a couple of cops. I knew I fucked up right there and then. I sat at the car while he smiled and chatted to the adults outside. He didn't talk to me on the ride home, and his silence scared me so much that I just started crying. I tried my best not to get his attention, but that's hard when you're shaking and whimpering.

I didn't leave the car right away when we reached the house. I thought he couldn't possibly beat me up out there, when other people could see him. I was successful for at least two minutes.

I don't remember much what happened once we got inside the house. Series of punches, I'm sure. However, I remember I punched him back. You know what your husband did? He grabbed the nearest object, a baseball bat, unfortunately, and yeah, I ended up in a hospital. That's why I haven't written for months.

My right ear can't hear anymore.

Obviously, he gave the hospital a good convincing lie that he was never arrested. I didn't tell anyone he's hit me. What for? I don't exactly want to be an orphan. And he's the only person I've got right now, no matter how shitty he is. I wanna stick with him til the end.

That's what families do, right?

I can't hear with my right ear anymore, but that's fine. Everything led to us packing our things. We're moving back to Texas. I'm leaving a lot of friends behind, but hey, at least I'd see my childhood friend, Hannah, again. I know nothing about her now. I tried looking her up on social media, but her name has never showed up. I hope she still lives there, though.

I'm looking forward to going back to Texas.

Ian