Mi Casa es su Casa

Hello there.

I'm Ava and I wish to share with you a tale of two lovers, my parents.

My parents (who I'll be addressing as mother and father because a first name basis on any medium is quite …strange) are non-conformists, at least that's how they like to put it. My older brother prefers the term ' big shot weirdos'

"But ya gotta lov' em" he always adds.

Mother and father loved to question everything and come to their own conclusions, never just accepting anything as the norm until they'd worked out its 'truth' or 'relevance' in their heads. My father once did a little jail time while coming to terms with why he had to pay taxes and my mother always called him and idiot for it.

"You can question the law, but you still have to obey or else they'll make you pay, it's a contract you signed the moment you were born, idiot" she'd say and he'd grumble and mutter silently to himself while we laughed.

My parents puzzled over a lot of things

Why do we have to take babies for walks when they're not actually walking? Why not just leave them on the porch to get a bit of sunshine like the little talking house plants they are? Why do we have to make a baby at all when we can just one already to go into the teenage rebellion phase? (Mother was not keen childbirth; father was not keen on his children looking nothing like him

"You're a white tall male with brown eyes and hair, I'm pretty sure any and all generic white kids could pass of as yours" my mom said.

But they got a surrogate)

Do we really have to live together just because we love each and swore our forevers to each other? Because I really like my own space.

And so my family consisting of my parents, my brother, Dain our pet artic wolf (I was never made aware of how they crossed so many animal regulations) and myself live in two connected suburban duplexes.

The land is registered to both my parents and my mom owns the house on the left of the mailbox while my dad owns the one on the right, as stipulated on their laminated paper towel agreement.

Everyone has a room in both houses. Both homes. There's a tunnel leading directly to either house from the other. My brother berates my parents for not 'making it cool and hidden' and my father encourages him to join the labor market so he can gather enough funding for an underground labyrinth if he so desires.

Most people would think my brother and I were raised without as many stringent policies as most other kids had to endure. But they would be wrong. My parents are unconventional, but they love us and care about as conventionally as any other adult would care for their spawn.

"It's in our programming, as difficult to disobey as the call to have sex and procreate" they'd say.

So that meant a proper formal education and no ice cream for breakfast and dinner, much to my brother's dismay.

My parents tried to raise in a way that we would understand everything we knew and not just be aware of public information. There was a 'why' to every of our requests and a suitable answer had to follow lest they not be met.

"Mother, I require a little more money to cover my expenses this weekend, may I have an advance on my allowance?"

"Why?"

"I'm going shopping with some girls from school at the newly opened mall, I hear they're having welcoming bait sales"

"Why?"

"It would be a fun and different way to pass the time than I usually do, and it would be an excellent opportunity to get new lingerie as my body grows expediently these days"

"I can buy you new underwear whenever you need"

"I'd also like to spend time with girls within a similar age bracket as mine"

"Why?"

"Because as a human being, the need for social interaction is hard coded into my DNA and thus I must forge somewhat meaningful relationships with others lest I be subject to social anxiety, loneliness or go stir crazy "

"Hmm…. You know I didn't have any girlfriends in middle school and I turned out fine"

"No, you did not mother"

"How much do you need sweetie?"

I made sure to get my mom a present from a store with discounts as high as 50%, although future visits showed the regular prices were exactly the same as the discounted bait.

" Dad, can I get some extra cash? I wanna see a movie" asked my 16-year-old brother.

"Why do you need extra cash your allowance should cover it"

"Yeah, if it was just me but I gotta cover some of the expenses for my ...movie buddy"

"…and why is that?"

"Because … uh… Yeah! Because I invited her out, so it's only fair that I get her some snacks since she's covering her ticket and all"

"If she can't afford to cover her snacks then it's on her for not graciously declining your invite"

"Really? So why do your 'bros' not bring their own toilet paper when they have to use the bathroom when you're all watching the games?"

"…. that's different"

"Is it though? I mean they must have known they'd have to pee when you graciously invited to your home and all"

"My home is my private space, not public, it changes things"

"Well I want my dat- er, my movie buddy, to feel at home with me"

"Hmm… why?"

"Because man's gotta procreate Dad. And I'm the point in my life where I should learn what traits in a partner I want, and what traits I myself should work on."

"Did you get that from your sister?"

"Yes"

"Do you have any shame?"

"No"

"Is she blonde?"

"We Island men apparently have a type" my brother says with a wink.

"Well, you had me at procreate kid, moneys yours" my father says with a smile while my brother pumps his fists in the air. But their celebration is short lived. And my eavesdropping mother was livid.

An argument ensued. There had been a lot of arguments of late.

As my brother's relationship with codename blondie continued to bloom, my parents' continued to deteriorate.

And then one day, they called us in, told us they'd be separating. We would have to choose which house we wanted to live in as the tunnel would be closed for business. Dain got sent to Alaska.

I was crushed. I loved both my parents dearly and could not imagine living without both of them present. You must be thinking, what's the big deal? You'll be right next door. But right next door neighbors don't sit at the dinner table together, or on the couch together for family game night, or pat your head till you fall asleep while the other one sings because the pyschothriller from family movie night had given you nightmares. My father made the best breakfasts and my mom made the best dinners. My father made my mom laugh and my mother made him smile warmly at her, eyes brimming with affection, whenever she wasn't looking. Perhaps she should have been looking.

I could not accept it.

I refused to.

My brother was furious. Now he would only have one room all to himself, like a plebian. O, the horror.

He chose to live with my dad and I stayed with my mom, and we both agreed to try to get them back together.

"They argue about the dumbest shit, but they always stick to the whys of the matter, and we know for a fact that there was a why for them to be have been so in love, we just have to help them remember and forget all these other stuff"

And so, we tried. We dug up pictures from old albums, took them to places they'd made important memories, but it only seemed to make matters worse. It made us worse too. We couldn't understand it. And then one day, we did.

It was the first day of spring, my brother had sustained an injury during gym class and I'd been tasked with seeing him home in one piece. Gym was the last period for us that day so the teacher saw no point in keeping us in school. And my mother questioning the abilities of our schools first aid capabilities the last time my brother was hurt was probably a motive for that as well. I dropped my brother off next door at my father's house and went home. While making a late lunch for my brother, I heard noises from the out of service tunnel. Strange. I stood at my entrance ready to chew him out for breaking the rules and moving around when he shouldn't be. But no one came through. Fumbled voices came through though. Two of them. No one else should have been home at that hour. My brother could be in danger.

I hurriedly rush into the tunnel, the authorities one click away from being dialed, a hot frying pan in hand. I find no burglars. Just my father and a strange woman. A strange blonde woman with a bra in her hand.

"Father"

"H-hey, sweetie, uh... "

He lets out a low chuckle. A long silence follows. Then the woman speaks up

"Okay, I'm getting of here, could you scooch out the way please? Thanks "

I'm left alone in a narrow tunnel with a scumbag.

"This is what you did… this is the why… this is why letting mother remember your time together made her sadder... Why you didn't want to remember either…"

"Sweetie I can explain"

"You betrayed her"

"It's- it's not that simple"

"You betrayed her! You betrayed us!!"

"NO! I-"

I ran out the tunnel and locked it up tight. Disregarding my father's pleas to open it up.

Later that day my brother called. He'd come down to check what all the screaming was about and found my father sobbing in the tunnel. After calming him down, father told him everything.

"I never thought in a million years he'd do something like this.... Remember when we were little and I asked why they only ever slept with each other even though they had their own rooms and dad said,' because it's in the marriage contract'....

I guess laws and bonds just don't bind forever"

My brother had always been something of an explorer when it came to women, but after that day he became something else. Something unhappy.

I was shattered. My parents sorry excuse for a separation had cracked my clear window of thought. This betrayal by my father had broken it. All my trust, all their love, all I believed due to their influence floated about in my mind as shards of glass, causing me pain whenever they veered too close to memory.

Then one of my girlfriends said, "I'd like to give you something else to think about other than your parents. Maybe this is a bad time but … I haven't been able to work up the courage... And now I have! Knowing you are and how you think, I always knew... Always thought you'd disregard what I want to share with you, especially since I don't have all the answers for all the whys you could ask me. So here!"

She thrust a book in my hand.

"Just read it with an open mind. The rules of logic don't always apply, but faith does"

I ran my hand over the engraved title, Bible.

I read the book and my friend guessed right. It seemed pretty ridiculous to me. A lot of things did not add up. But there was one thing that caught my attention. The concept of forgiveness in the book was… astonishing to say the least. The way this man named Jesus treated the people who wronged him… it got me wondering.

Being sad and angry at my parents wasn't making me feel any better, perhaps forgiving them would. My mind said they didn't deserve it but my heart had a why. I was tired of hurting.

After forgiving my parents, I started spending time with them again, and then I started to notice how much they were hurting too. At first I thought my mother was consumed with anger, but with a fresh set of eyes, I could see how much she was burdened by grief…and disbelief. I used to think she thought my father had made a fool out her, that her pride had taken a hit, but now… I can see she's just unhappy to have been lied to by the person she trusted the most in this world. The person she still loved but felt she could never forgive.

My initial assessment of my father remained unchanged, he was ashamed. And he was laden with guilt. So much guilt that he felt underserving of forgiveness. So, using my knowledge of how parents thought, and how God seemed to handle his people being too ashamed to seek his forgiven, even though He already knew they were going to screw up anyway, I drew up one final plan to help my parents. Perhaps they wouldn't get back together, but I wanted the hurting to stop. The plan was simple, with one general theme, penance. Merely telling people you forgive them isn't always enough, because we humans seem to like things the hard way. They had to believe they'd earned the right to be forgiven somehow. So I was going to help my mother make my father pay, in the healthiest and lawful (US civil and book of Levi laws) way possible.

I summoned my brother home, phase one of the plan was letting mother know that we knew. He has a much better way with words than I do, that and good looks really kept the girls rolling in.

He told her. She cried. She tried to act tough but we let her know it was okay to just ... be, the act was over, it was curtain call and she needed to trust us, rely on her family. Father's betrayal would only tear us apart if we let it.

" I didn't want you kids to find out ... I didn't want to ruin the image of your father you had, I know how much you loved him"

"Yeah mom, we love him, we love dad, not just who we imagine him to be, we're not kids anymore. If you guys can hold us accountable when we screw up and still love us, then we can do the same. Come on us give us a little credit here, we're not weirdos like the two of ya- ow!"

My mom laughed, it'd been a while since we'd seen her laugh. I was happy she'd responded so well to that little display of violence as it meant phase two of the plan would go even smoother than expected.

Phase two.

I summoned my father. My brother had already worked through his issues with him, since they lived together. So mother and I were the ones left with a score to settle.

"Father, you hurt mom. You hurt your family, when you chose to sleep with that woman, a clear violation of your marriage contract, and adultery, a very big no according to the Word of God"

"You've been reading the Bible?"

"You'll speak when you've been asked to speak."

Silence from father, a chuckle from my brother, my mother had " you've been reading the Bible?" written all over her forehead. I continued.

"If these were the times of Moses you would have been stoned to death father. But lucky for you Jesus died to cover everyone's ass and offer us a less dramatic way out. Also, mom can also charge you with concubinage, but lucky for you we lack evidence and we definitely wouldn't be able to get some now, right Father?"

"Yes, yes of course you wouldn't!

I ... I would never do to you kids again"

"what about me?" My mom asked, she was close to tears a little sooner than I'd anticipated.

My father turned, but he couldn't look her in the eyes. He was feeling even guiltier than I'd anticipated.

" ...I wouldn't ever hurt you again like that"

My brother gave mother a reassuring squeeze in the shoulder and I proceeded.

"With all the information we currently, we could come to a speedy conclusion right here and right now.

But we are not satisfied with knowing father did something bad. We know father is not a fairy tale monster. We know there was a why. Not an excuse, not a reason, just a why. And we'd like to hear it. And we'd like you to be a little brave, very kind and hear it too mother"

Silence.

"Anytime now big guy" my brother urged.

Father took a deep breath. And then he let out the why he'd come to after months of searching himself and coming in and out of his pool of guilt.

"If I had to give a why... not an excuse, not a reason, because nothing can justify what I did, there are so many ways I could have handled things better .... " Sigh

"I made that mistake because my ego needed a quick fix and Sherrie provided said fix"

"Sherrie, what a stripper name" my brother commented. I gave him a glare and he continued nursing his Minute Maid quietly. My father had told him the other woman's name already, but my brother found it disgusting with a new zest every time he heard it. He was out of new ways to express said disgust though.

"It was a culmination of things that lead to ... It. Like a little stone wall slowly crumbling due to erosion of a nearby lake"

Now my mother had "seriously? Only you would find a way to paint this stupid thing you did so beautifully you idiot!" On her forehead.

"I got passed up for a promotion at work, the new hires kept pumping in good quality art for the studio, the fans were loving the new direction the studio was taking and I couldn't seem to get on the hype train. You were doing so great at your job, getting along better other parents from school, even getting along better with Ava and her other little girl friends, I knew you'd had issues relating to other people in the past and I was happy for you, you have to believe me when I say that, ... I just felt I wasn't good enough for you anymore, that you deserved someone with your grade of excellence, now that the world was your oyster because you weren't so scared of it anymore, and at first I tried to be that someone but things weren't getting any better at work, and working late wasn't helping us at home, I mean who's heard of a guy in the animation business working later hours than someone high up in an accounting firm? Then the kids started getting into hobbies I wasn't great at, Dain was a better catcher for our boy than I was, if we'd gotten a Chihuahua though I bet it couldn't catch a freaking football in its mouth...

Sorry, sorry, I know you kids miss him... I miss him too...

I just felt inadequate, in almost every way, and then Sherrie came along and made everything I did look ... Amazing, I was amazing in every way to her"

" you were amazing in every way to me!"

Silence.

" I ...I-I know that, I know now that if I'd just talked to you, things would have gotten better, hell, if I'd just talked to my beautiful, intelligent little girl, things would have been a lot better than they are now... But I felt then that that would have made my inadequacy become not just a thought or a feeling but a fact. Ironically what did I ended up making it just that and worse and disgusting and. ." Father let out another sigh.

" I lost sight of who I was, no, I lost sight of who my family was, what sort of people I loved and I turned away from that love because of my own shame and did something actually shameful and I just couldn't turn back after that. I just couldn't"

"I could blame the alcohol for the first time but there was no alcohol the second or third time, just pain and guilt and shame and a disgusting sheer lack of will. And then I remember telling you kids that drinking isn't a problem as long as the alcohol isn't drinking you because you're responsible for your own actions and all that jazz and, hehe... it just ... it just made things even worse "

" So I guess that's my why, I'm pathetic and instead of letting the people that have always loved my pathetic self continue to do so, I wanted to bask in the affection of someone that loved my grandest illusion..."

"Wow dad. You should really start writing poetry again, you're pretty good with ya words- hey!"

Mother missed my brothers head with the couch pillow, I guess her skills had deteriorated without father around for target practice.

"Well father, are you sorry?"

"Yes, yes I'm sorry"

"Mother, do you understand father's why? "

Silence.

"I ..." she sighed

"listen, I-"

"Don't interrupt me! I didn't interrupt you and now it's my turn to speak so you'll just have to sit there and wait for me to try and muck my way through your pile of shit!"

After my brother was done with his entire pack of juice and was getting ready to pounce on some crackers, mother was able to speak through her tears.

"I have heard ... and understood your why, you stupid stupid arrogant bastard!"

The pillow hit its target this time. Perhaps it's just easier when its father.

"Thank you for listening me, and I don't expect you to be able to forgive m-"

"You don't get to decide that."

"...what?"

"You don't get to decide that for me, you don't get to decide anything because you're a big ... big idiot! Ava, tell him the plan!"

Father turns to me,

"There's a ... There's a plan? ... For me?"

"Yes father, as mother has quite accurately said, you don't get to decide if she or any of us can forgive you, you can only decide if you wish to be forgiven. So do you?"

"... Um, I-"

"Oh for god's sake, get over yourself dad, this is the time to grovel so would you please get to it already, I'm out of juice!"

"Alright alright! Yes, I'd ... I'd really like to be forgiven if that's on the table"

"Alright. You shouldn't call the Lord's name in vain brother, there are plenty of adverbs available to you in the English language for you to add emphasis to your phrases if you so desire. And concerning the matter of your forgiveness father, we've come up with a form of penance for you to do to complete the forgiver and forgivee transaction."

"Um ... uh, okay? Let's hear it"

"You've cleared part one for us which was ' telling us exactly what you were thinking you dumb fudge'

And now, mother would like to let out her pent up frustration by beating you to pulp with her favourite couch pillow. Please sign her to agree to the act and not reporting her to any authoritative body, and to swear to never bring it up in any future arguments in the hopes of garnering pity."

"hehe, okay, that's uh... that sounds fair"

"That's not all"

"Of course not "

"For the final act of penance, you'll sign this new paper towel agreement which states that if you even cheat again or hide something important to your marriage and family from your wife, or talk to your idiotic self instead of talking to your wife about any problems you might be facing, you will sell your house, renounce your ownership over your shared lands with mother and move into a tent by the post box for an indefinite period of time subject to your family's consensus"

"Wow."

"Yeah " my brother laughed,

"The tent thing was my idea by the idea" he said with a wink.

"O that's why you're my favourite kid son."

"This agreement will be binding for 18 years after its signing and will be null and void should you manage to 'keep your nuts in a can' for that period of time. Do you agree?" Father turns to mother. He looks her in the eye.

"I always told myself I'd do anything to get my family back. Anything. And I don't even want to live in a house that doesn't have you in it. I don't wanna stay in my house, I wanna live in our home, together. So yeah, yeah I agree to it all, where do I sign?"

And with that, my family started picking up the pieces that fell again, my father's weight of guilt and been pushed out by the weight and pain of punishment he thought he deserved. We all thought he deserved it. He'd won the right to be forgiven and my mother felt he'd paid enough too. That poor pillow need stitches after she was done, luckily father did not. My mother liked to say everything's priceless until you put a number on it. And that principle worked out pretty well for us this time. My brother and I currently don't live with our parents anymore, my father writes poetry for the local paper as a side job and enjoys when even just a handful of people understand his message, a much better boost for his ego the Sherrie ever was. He never had to move into a tent, he still owns the house on the right and the contract is null and void now. They also got a Chihuahua. We're all living now, and I suppose we'll keep doing that till we're not.