It’s pretty slow this morning, about four total tables in the restaurant, when a younger man is seated in my section. He’s carrying a box of stuff, which he sets down next to him in the booth.

Me: “Hi, how are you doing today?”

Man: “I’m not doing great. My wife is meeting me here to pick up what’s left of her stuff.” *Gestures to the box* “We’re getting a divorce.”

Me: *Stunned* “I’m so sorry.”

The (ex) wife joins him eventually, and of course, the entire staff is watching because what else is there to do? The conversation starts to get heated, but I notice that the wife is remaining weirdly calm. We overhear that the man has been cheating, hence the divorce, and he clearly says:

Man: “…and this is why I had to go outside of our relationship — because you act like this.”

THEN, the wife stands up, looks him right in the eye, and says:

Woman: “Tell Daryl that I had an amazing time last night, and I’d like to do it again sometime.”

The man’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as she walks away. I approach the table.

Me: “Are you okay, sir? Can I get you anything?”

There is a prolonged silence before he looks up at me.

Man: “No, I’m not f****** okay. Daryl is my father.”

I nearly s*** myself. I literally had to walk away; I didn’t know what to say.

It’s been hours, and I’m still replaying this in my head.

My parents have been divorced for over a decade now, and my dad has been seeing someone for part of it.

One year, my dad takes me out for my birthday. The conversation is somewhat awkward, but we enjoy dinner, we spend an hour or so talking, and we part ways.

I’m reversing out of the parking spot when Dad runs up to me, out of breath and excited.

Dad: “Did I tell you I’m engaged? I’m getting married!”

I knew he had a girlfriend, but I’ve never met her before.

Me: “Uhhhh… no? Congratulations? When are you—”

Dad: “Thanks! And we have no idea. At some point. I’ll keep you posted!”

He rushes off, and I pull out of my parking spot, planning on telling my mother when I get home that her ex-husband is getting married. You’ll notice that I just spent an hour or so chatting with him, and this NEVER came up. 

Just under a year goes by, and my dad texts me that he’d like to speak with me over the phone. Nothing bad, he assures me. He calls on a Tuesday night. 

Dad: “Hey! How’s it going? Did I tell you I’m getting married tomorrow?”

Me: “Uhhhh… no?! Congratulations, I guess? Uh…”

Dad: “Yeah, we’ve had the paperwork for weeks, but we’re going to court tomorrow to finalize it. We’re going to Hawai’i on Friday to visit your uncle, and we’ll have a ceremony then. We just have to pack.”

Me: “That’s… That’s great, Dad! Sounds good! Congrats!”

Dad: “Thanks! I’ll send photos!”

I have met this woman thrice now. I have never met her kids (who are around my age). I didn’t really have much knowledge about this in any way… and this is how he tells me. 

At least I know one reason my parents divorced.

CONTENT WARNING: Child Abuse

I’m in college and home for the holidays. My stepmother and I used to get along, but that stopped once she started having her own children. She’s had several more children, so even though I’m in college, I have a seven-year-old brother and a three-year-old sister. During a big family dinner, the adults are sitting around and talking while the kids run off to play.

Aunt: “What is Santa getting [Brother] this year?”

Stepmom: “Probably a [Toy]. He won’t stop talking about it. It was the only thing that he mentioned in his letter to Santa.”

Me: “So, he still believes in Santa?”

Stepmom: “Of course he does. He’s only seven! We’ve got a few more years before he figures it out.”

Me: “I thought six years old was old enough to be told the truth.”

Uncle: “That… feels young. College got you jaded already, [My Name]?”

Aunt: “Well, you know she’s not a big fan of Christmas.”

Me: “Actually, I got that from [Stepmom], when she told me at six years old that I was big enough to know that Santa wasn’t real.”

Stepmom: “Oh, pshaw. It was so long ago. I do remember you cried and cried and cried!“

She laughs.

Me: “Probably because I was six, it was Christmas Day, and I was literally still opening presents.”

Stepmom: “No, it wasn’t. It was—”

Me: “No, it was Christmas. I remember because Grandma came to visit and found me sobbing on the floor while you yelled at me and threatened to throw my remaining gifts into the fireplace if I didn’t ‘straighten up’. That was the big fight you two had that got Grandma banished from our house. You said she had disrespected you, and then you threw everyone’s remaining gifts into the fire and told everyone it was my fault. There are pictures of the burned gifts. I remember it very clearly. The next year, I didn’t get any gifts at all. [Stepmom] ‘forgot’ to get me any but made me watch everyone else open gifts, and then she took pictures of me crying. They’re in the photo album and they’re dated if you want proof.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

Uncle: *To me* “No f****** wonder you never come home.”

Years and years later, my father finally divorced her. He admitted that he’d always known she was like that to me, but it was “too much work” to get involved. I later learned via his sister that he doesn’t understand why I never come around or speak to him.

CONTENT WARNING: Animal Neglect/Cruelty, Child Abuse

I own a couple of pet snakes, beautiful creatures that I take great care of. They need to eat once a week, so when my family and I wanted to go away for two weeks, I started looking for a snake-watcher. Most people I know aren’t fond of snakes, but my thirteen-year-old nephew shared my enthusiasm for exotic pets. I asked him and his parents, my brother and my sister-in-law, if it was okay if he went over to my house twice a week and cared for them.

The parents agreed, I taught my nephew how to feed and care for the snakes, and then I went away. I heard nothing from my nephew during my vacation, so I assumed everything was fine.

We returned two weeks later, and when I went to feed the snakes, I realized that the package of mice contained exactly as many mice as when I left. I counted the packages of snake food and realized that the snakes couldn’t have been fed, and I also saw they had very little water. I messaged my nephew.

Me: “Well, we’re home now! By the way, how was it, caring for Shai-Hulud and Fafnir?”

I got no response. The two snakes were obviously VERY hungry. They are snakes, so they can go without food for a month, but they shouldn’t. This all seemed very odd and out of character for my nephew. I messaged him again.

Me: “I noticed that they are a bit hungry. Did they go on a hunger strike?”

I got no response. Snakes sometimes refuse to eat, but this was quite obviously a case of them not being fed. I got in touch with my veterinarian and got some advice on how to make sure they didn’t fall ill, and they didn’t suffer any damage.

I invited myself over to my brother’s house that weekend, and after dinner, I sat down with my nephew to play video games with him. I asked, after a little while:

Me: “Hey, [Nephew]?”

Nephew: “Yeah?”

Me: “Did you forget to feed the snakes while I was away?”

He froze and fell quiet.

Me: “I noticed that there were exactly as many mice as when I left. If you forgot, that’s okay, they’re fine, but I would really like to know what happened.”

Nephew: *Very quietly* “I didn’t forget.”

Me: “Then what happened? They also had very little water. Did you come over and refill it?”

Tears started forming in his eyes, and he was still speaking very quietly.

Nephew: “No. I didn’t. But I didn’t forget. Please, [My Name] believe me. I didn’t.”

Me: “[Nephew], did something happen?”

Nephew: *Mumbling* “I don’t know…”

I realized something and spoke very quietly, too.

Me: “Do you want to tell me, but is there a reason for you not telling me?”

He nodded.

Me: “Do your parents know the reason?”

Nephew: “Mom does. Only Mom. But don’t tell her I told you. And don’t tell Dad.”

I promised him, and we continued playing. After a while, I headed for the kitchen for a glass of water and found my sister-in-law emptying the dishwasher. We exchanged some small talk, and then she suddenly said:

Sister-In-Law: “So, how’s the snakes?”

Me: “The snakes? Oh, they’re fine. Why? I thought you didn’t like them.”

Sister-In-Law: “Oh, you know I find them a bit creepy.”

Me: “A lot of people do, but I’m a little bit crazy, as we all know.”

Sister-In-Law: “Haha, yeah. But they are well?”

Me: “…actually, come to think of it, they’ve not been eating well.”

Sister-In-Law: *Hiding a smile* “Oh?”

Me: “Yeah, it seems like it must’ve been hard for [Nephew] to get them to eat. Snakes sometimes just refuse to eat, so that’s normal. Heck, Shai-Hulud usually doesn’t eat for months during breeding season.”

Sister-In-Law: “Why would [Nephew] feed them?”

Me: “…we agreed he would feed them when I went away.”

Sister-In-Law: “Don’t be silly.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Sister-In-Law: “I mean, you weren’t serious when you asked him to do it.”

Me: “I… was serious. I’m really surprised by this. You were here when I gave him the spare key and the instructions. We were in this kitchen.”

Sister-In-Law: “He’s a child! No one could demand that… act… from a child. He couldn’t handle it.”

Me: “I expected him to do it, it’s not hard, and I have taught him how.”

Sister-In-Law: *Incredously* “You taught him what?”

Me: “I… I taught him how to feed my snakes. As we agreed that I would do.”

Sister-In-Law: “You couldn’t possibly have wanted my child to feed those… things!”

Me: “I’m very confused. I came here six weeks ago and said something along the lines of, ‘I want [Nephew] to care for my snakes for two weeks, like feeding them and giving them water,’ and you somehow didn’t interpret that as him feeding them. And you said it sounded like a wonderful idea.”

Sister-In-Law: “I was being ironic! It’s so f****** obvious that my boy shouldn’t be alone with the spawn of Satan that I shouldn’t have to tell you that!”

I knew that my sister-in-law was religious, but the belief in Satan is very rare in Sweden. And I had no idea that she was this religious.

Me: “That… didn’t come across.”

Sister-In-Law: “Then maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time with [Nephew] if you have such trouble understanding these things.”

Me: “I… understand that I’ve upset you. I apologize for not understanding your intent. I want to make this right.”

Sister-In-Law: “You must promise to never, ever let my boy be alone with those disgusting worms again.”

Me: “I can do that on one condition: you may not let your anger at me affect him. He is a good kid who wanted to help his uncle, and that is a good thing even if you don’t agree with my opinions on… snakes.”

Sister-In-Law: “I’ll consider it. Some things shouldn’t be forgiven.”

Me: “I understand.”

I went back to the living room and the video game and saw [Nephew] slink back to the couch. He had heard every word. I realized that she probably just wanted to hurt me by threatening me with not getting to be with him and not letting my kids hang out with their cousin. He didn’t interpret it that way. I tried telling him, discreetly, that she was mostly angry with me, but he didn’t believe me. But I told him that we were still friends, that I understood that he’d tried to do everything right, and that he could call the next time he had something to tell if he wasn’t comfortable with having it written down. He hugged me, tight, and then we played more games. 

His parents divorced a couple of years later, and for some reason, [Nephew] wanted to live mostly with his dad. He visits me often to play games, hang out, ask the questions that you don’t want to ask a parent — and feed his corn snake Sausage, which lives with me. He asked for it as a birthday present the year after the divorce.

My parents got married the day after my older sister’s birthday. My father was abusive, and it took my mum a long time to leave.

We have just left the courthouse after the divorce hearing and are discussing my sister’s birthday, which happens to be in exactly one month. A final divorce decree takes one month and one day to come through.

Me: “Hey, didn’t you and Dad get married the day after [Sister]’s birthday?”

Mum: “Yeah, why?”

Me: “How long were you married?”

Mum: “It would be twenty-one years this year.”

Me: “Well, it’s [Sister]’s birthday in exactly one month, and it takes a month and one day for the divorce to be final, right? That means that you were married and divorced in exactly twenty-one years.”

Mum: “D***, I would have gotten less time for murder.”

The final decree did indeed come in the mail on what would have been their twenty-first wedding anniversary. My mum celebrated by throwing a divorce party, which included burning their wedding album and throwing empty beer bottles at an enlarged photo of my father.