Page 92 of Take Care, Taylor
Petition to Divorce.
I swallowed hard, flipping through the pages. The tears came too hot, too fast, for me to read the words.
Tucking the file under my arm, I crossed to my dad’s desk.
Empty.
I opened drawer after drawer, searching for something—anything—that could prove I was imagining this.
Nothing.
Back at my mother’s desk, I found a single DVD labeled For Audrey.
I don’t even have a DVD player…
I tore through the cabinets, hoping they’d kept one.
Nothing.
Then I spotted their laptops.
Rushing to the front room, I plugged in my mother’s, waiting as the screen flickered to life with a tired, off-keyWelcome…and a password prompt.
I typediloveAudrey—the same one she’d used for everything—and the desktop appeared, cluttered with old documents.
Sliding the DVD into the side tray, I held my breath.
A few minutes later, a small window opened—and my mother appeared. Her curly hair was piled into a messy bun, silk pajamas hanging loose on her frame. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, like she’d been crying for days.
I’d never seen her cry before.
“Hey, Audrey,” she said softly. “I record this video every few months because you’re being quite rebellious now and not really talking to me or your father, but that’s?—”
She paused, forcing a smile.
“That’s par for the course of being a teenager, so I’m not offended. Anyway… I’m kind of grateful you haven’t beenaround the house that much, because you’d probably notice the unbearable tension between your father and me. I don’t even think we’re trying to hide it anymore.”
She took a shaky breath.
“A few years ago, he cheated on me, and I thought I forgave him—but I didn’t. Neither of us has been happy. And I… I fell for someone else. Someone I really love, Audrey. But between you and me, I think I’m going to have to let him go and move on.”
I hitpause.
I couldn’t handle this. Not tonight.
Leaving the divorce papers on the table, I slipped out of the room and shut the door.
Then I cried myself to sleep.
Morning light cut through the blinds. I checked the status of my nursing-school application—anything to ground myself—then returned to the past.
I sat in front of the laptop and pressedplay.
“I don’t want to ruin something that might finally be right,” my mother said, “especially when it comes to you and the guy you swear you don’t like. I think if we were together, it would ruin that—and maybe you’d hate each other even more. I don’t know.”
She exhaled, eyes glassy.
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or betray your trust. I just hope you can forgive me someday. I love you, Audrey Parker, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. See you soon, sweet girl.”
