I flipped through the channels looking for something to watch. I stopped when Who Framed Roger Rabbit came on. I froze and stared at the screen. I continued to watch the remaining 52 minutes of that movie. I sat there watching that movie as I cried. I cried silently. Tears fell down my cheek onto my lap and I didn't bring my hand up to wipe them away. When the movie stopped I went upstairs laid down and replayed the memory over and over in my head.
The long night began with a cold glass. A cold glass that would lead to more cold glasses. These cold glasses would be emptied, and then replaced with full glasses. I have to imagine that at some point my mom stopped caring whether or not the glasses were cold.
I find the idea of social drinking entirely repulsive. Poisoning the mind and body for no reason other than being deemed normal by society. We were out at some bar, I'm not too sure quite where it was, but that would become less important as the night progressed. My parents and I were meeting some of my dad's cousins at this not so fine establishment. These cousins began asking the barkeep for cold glasses, which in turn caused my parents to ask for cold glasses. But unlike my mother my father knew not to try and keep up with his cousins. My parents were strictly social drinkers. And as it turned out my dad's cousins were social drinkers too, it just happened that they were more "social".
A few hours, and I'm not sure how many cold glasses later we decided to head to my dad's aunt's party. We didn't stay long. We were on our way out a after only about an hour. I hadn't realized until then that my mom spent the entirety of our time there upstairs, and away from the party. Her hair was disheveled, she had a blanket around her shoulders, and a look that can only be described as lost. Do you know those moments where you have no idea what is going on and you look as if you just had a lobotomy? That's what she looked like, devoid of thought, a personality, and any sign of life. She looked like someone who had just given up. On what I had no idea.
My dad drove us all home. No words were spoken. When we arrived my parents started immediately arguing in the kitchen. I stood there, and at the time I was lost. I didn't understand who, what, when, where, or why. My parents had stopped arguing for just long enough to tell me to go to the living room and watch TV. I did as I was told and I was told and turned on the television. One of my favorite movies, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, happened to be on. I can't watch it anymore, every time I watch it I can't go to sleep or think for long periods of time, I give up. The next series of events are blurry as my concentration switched from the movie to my parents.
There was loud arguing, and walking around the kitchen. My mom was mad at my dad for something, and my dad was trying to get her to calm down. Then there was a rabbit being held up by its neck. I couldn't hear what my mom was saying to him but I remember very clearly the spite she said it with. It was the way you talk to someone you hate so much that you want them toto hurry up and die so you can spit on their grave. Next thing I know my mom is pinned against the fridge crying. I can hope that my dad just meant to grab her shoulders, and that in her intoxicated state she lost her balance, but I'm a realist and I can't bullsh*t myself.
My mom began to scream "Get your hands off of me!" It wasn't until the third time she said it that my dad gave up on trying to calm her down and let her go. She looked at me and said "Get your jacket were going to be spending the night at grandma's house." My dad tried to stop her again but with less strength. He too was beginning to give up. My mom squirmed out of his grip with little to no struggle. She looked at me and again said, “Grab your jacket we’re leaving.” It was at this point I noticed the tears in my mothers eyes.
The look on my father’s face has given me nightmares. I couldn’t think of a name that could go along with the expression on his face. It looked as if he felt alone and wanted someone to help him, and at the same time it looked as if he had lost all faith in humanity and condemned himself to death. He said something I couldn’t quite catch what he said, but I have to imagine that it was something along the lines of “help” or “why”. I  wanted to say something like “Sorry” or “I can’t” or “I love you”. But all of those seemed wrong and turned into bile in my mouth. I knew that words wouldn’t  make this okay that they couldn’t change anything. And at this point I too gave up.
I don’t remember how we got to my grandmother’s house, all I know is I am afraid of the answer. My grandmother tried asking me over and over what had happened, but I just stared at the wall with the same expression my mom had earlier. I didn’t speak for days. I hardly slept and when I did I woke up sweating. I closed my eyes and saw my dad’s condemned face, then opened them to my mother’s. I refused to eat, my stomach had grown too weak for food. It took me a long time to be okay. I dreamt of that night for way too long. Then one day it was over. My parents decided to get divorced.