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We all sat at the table patiently waiting for our fourth party to arrive for our Sunday night pastime. My father, the fourth party, entered the room with cards in hand and a grim look upon his face, the game had begun. The game always seemed to bring upon a sense of enjoyment for Mom and Dad but, not that night, and not for several weeks before. Molly and I had pretended that nothing unusual …

…were perfect. Dad picks me up on Friday night and there are no more card games with the family, no more arguments, no more pretending. I look at how we lived those last months of their marriage and how we all live now, although we are no longer together we are all happier with our lives, ourselves, and each other. I understand that my parents are not perfect, I understand that my parents are human.