Page 140 of Surprisingly Us

“Since January,” my mom replies.

“That long?” I swallow back the lump in my throat.

My mom stands from where she’s sitting next to me. “We were waiting to tell you after your spring show wrapped. Then you were busy getting ready for Hannah’s wedding, and then your relationship with Rhys and your engagement. We couldn’t find the right time. And we didn’t want to hurt you.”

Six months.

Had I been so involved in my career, lost in my own world, that I hadn’t seen my parents’ marriage falling apart?

“It was going to hurt no matter when you told me but…” My words trail off, my stomach lurching as the news starts to sink in. “I can’t even process this. What happened? Why are you separated?”

“We grew apart. It happens in relationships. We’ve been taking some time to figure things out.”

“Okay, so how are you fixing it? Are you going to counseling?” My eyes dart between them, searching for answers.

I watch their wordless exchange. Their relationship may not be intact anymore, but they still speak the same language.

Should we tell her now?

I think it’s best.

A laugh exits my throat, but it’s humorless. I can see it written on their faces. “You’re not just separated. You’re getting a divorce.”

“We met with our lawyers last week. We wanted to get all the information before we said anything.”

“We tried counseling. We did.” With his elbows on his knees, my dad pushes his hands through his hair before clasping them under his chin. “What’s happening between your mother and I isn’t something we can fix.”

“You mean it’s not something you want to fix.”

“It’s amicable. We still care for each other deeply, and we will always be a family. We’re at a point in our lives where we want different things.” It sounds like my mom is reading a blanket statement written by someone in PR.

How will we always be a family if we’re broken? We’ll never be the same from this moment on.

For them, this is a relief. A change that they want, a decision that they’ve been mulling over for six months. Maybe longer.

They’re not happy together.

I know it’s abouttheirrelationship, but for me, it’s the end of my family as I know it. The end of the one thing that I could always count on. My support system. My place of belonging.

With tears streaking down my face, my mom wraps her arms around me.

“I’m sorry, baby. If I could stop your pain, I would, but these things are painful. For everyone.”

I wipe at my face, then glance at my dad. His eyes are red and glassy.

He reaches across to place a hand on my knee. “We love you so much. That will never change.”

I pull my gaze from him and glance around their apartment. The place I grew up. Where every memory is seeped into the walls.

“What is happening to the apartment?” I whisper.

My mom rubs soothing circles on my back as she responds. “Your dad is moving closer to the university, and I’ve found an apartment in Midtown.”

With her answer, another shard lodges itself in my heart.

People move all the time; I try to rationalize it. Besides, I haven’t lived here for six years. I’m on my own now.

I’m trying to be an adult about this, because I am, technically, but the little girl who helped paint her bedroom walls pink is crying and screaming about leaving this place.

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