My dad is obsessed with looking like a teenager

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When I was little, I took great pride in my family. My parents would take me to the park and I would wiggle my eyebrows mockingly at other kids as I walked with my loving mom and dad and their parents fought over stupid things, like forgetting the juice boxes or bringing the wrong blanket to sit on.

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My parents and I were the perfect family. Every night we had fantastic dinners that my parents cooked together, then we would play music and dance around as we cleaned up. My parents loved being involved in my school and extracurricular activities. They drove me and my team to soccer practice every Saturday and cheered the loudest when I scored. My birthday parties were legendary, because my parents always went all out to throw me really cool themed parties. I thought my life was absolutely perfect in every single way. Little did I know, there were things brewing under the surface that I couldn’t see.
When I was 15, I woke up in the middle of the night to a door slamming shut, then I heard it creak open again and I heard crying. I froze; I had never heard anything like it. I ran out of my room and saw that my dad was crying at the bathroom door, whispering something desperately. My mom then came out of the bathroom, no expression on her face until her eyes landed on me. She got teary eyed, then she grabbed two suitcases and set them by the door. She swung our front door open, then turned to me, wiped my tears of confusion and fear and kissed my forehead. She then grabbed her suitcases and threw them in the trunk of a car that was waiting for her by the street.

I don’t remember the rest of that night, I just remember how hard life was after that. My dad and I had to come up with a whole new routine for everyday things, because we couldn’t bear to do anything that reminded us of her. My dad completely let himself go. He stopped showering as often and would wear the same clothes for days. I stopped going to soccer. We ate microwaveable meals for weeks, until I decided to take up cooking. I couldn’t stand the sadness, now I was just angry. My mom had abandoned my dad and I out of nowhere, no explanation, no calls, nothing. How could I feel anything but anger at this point? I knew my dad and I would pick ourselves back up, and we did. We made a few changes, but soon enough we were sort of on our feet again, getting used to life without the traitor. The last thing we needed at that moment was to see her again. She must have sensed this, because that’s when she decided to come back into our lives.

She showed up out of nowhere, as suddenly as she had abandoned us. You probably think she showed up to apologize, to come back to our family after she realised how much she needed us and our little life, but I regret to inform you that wasn’t the case. She came home sporting an enormous diamond on her ring finger, one that I was sure my dad hadn’t given her. The most surprising thing was on her arm. She was accompanied by an incredibly handsome young man. He looked like he was half her age, but definitely an adult.
My mom made us sit down for lunch with her new husband. I’m not sure how she managed to do that. Maybe my dad and I were too stunted to say or do anything.
“He’s a model, isn’t that amazing honey?” My mom asked me while digging her nails into her new husband’s bicep. She insisted that I call him my second dad, but I refuse to even call him my step dad, he’s my mom’s husband to me.