Friend Forever

My Parents

My parents finished their food before I could, as they grabbed for their plates as soon as they finished, and took them to the sink. I sat down for maybe five minutes before they got up and left, or about to leave, as they didn't say a thing to me, and I didn't say anything either. And even if I did, they may have not answered me, like they did often. However there had been one question on my mind that day. One I wanted to ask, and I hoped they wouldn't get too angry at me for it.

"Uhhhh, Mom?" I spoke up as I turned my head, and she stopped in her tracks as she turned around to face me. An expression of curiosity on her face as she waited in the doorway of the kitchen for me to ask away. "I was wondering if Carly could sleepover this weekend?" I waited patiently for her to answer, and I wished it would be the answer I always wanted. However, that didn't happen often, as I pretty much knew what the answer would be. She gave me another expression of uncertainty, as she tilted her head to one side and her light hair fell to the left.

"Mmmm, I don't know Mal. You know how we feel about friends sleeping over. Why don't you just sleep there?" My Mom—who was named Jennifer—spoke back to me as she shook her head a bit. And a dreaded and disappointed feeling washed over myself as I slumped down.

"Ok," I spoke quietly and in a downward tone, as I turned back around and finished my dinner, as my Father—who was named Cal—and her turned around as well and started walking back towards their room.

I didn't know why my parents didn't like when I had friends over. It was odd. They always wanted me to spend time at their place, and to be honest, I liked spending time at my friends places better than my own. And when I said 'friends' I really just meant Carly. For Carly's parents treated me so much better than my own, and I wished I had them over mine.

 
  I finished my half burger slowly, as I almost pushed it from one side to the other on my tiny plate. I wasn't all that hungry—surprise, surprise—and I had lost most of my appetite after speaking to my Mom. I don't know what it was, just whenever I got angry at my parents, or upset with them, it was as if I couldn't do or focus on anything else. I just kept thinking about them. Why did they even have a kid if they didn't want me? I mean, it wasn't like they abused me or anything, but they almost did by not doing anything with me, or speaking to me, or wanting me around them. It seemed as if they didn't really want me, for the soul reason that I was almost invisible to them, unless I spoke up and talked to them first. And when they did speak to me, they weren't rude, they just tried to drop the conversation real quick, as if they couldn't wait to get away from me. What was so wrong with me that they didn't even want to speak to me? What did I do wrong? Why did they have me if they were just going to treat me like that? I didn't know, and I really wanted to, but I didn't. And I was for sure not going to ask them that question. They would only get angry at me, and I didn't want that. So, therefore I just planned to spend more time at Carly's and around her parents, that treated me more like their child than my own parents.

  As I brushed off the remainder of my food in the trash, I placed my plate in the sink, and then stumbled off to my room, moping and dragging my feet along with me. As I went down the short hallway, my parents room—which was across from mine—was shut, as a wooden door filled in the space in the doorway. That was the usual routine they stuck by. They always closed their door, as if it was a message to me to get out, and to not come in. And I took that message all the time, as I turned and wandered into my room, and closed my matching wooden door behind me. I sat on my pink chair that was close to the door, and I pulled my knees up in front of me and hugged them tightly. Why did my parents not want me? I don't get it. It isn't fair. Why did Carly have to have such a loving family, loving parents and I was stuck with my careless ones. Ones that may have shown me a little bit of love, but not much at all. I wanted to have a close relationship with my parents. I want us to go out for dinners somewhere, and go see movies, and go to the mall, and go out and do fun things like mini golf and go for bike rides. Like Carly does with her parents. Why can't mine be like that? Usually when Carly did those things with her parents, lots of times they would bring me along too, and I enjoyed those times. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same doing those fun things with Carly and her parents than it would be doing them with my own. It would be different, maybe more enjoyable if my parents cared. But I had to stop thinking of those things I wanted. Because the more I did, the more upset I would make myself because I knew those things wouldn't happen. And I had to live with that fact.