It’s a classic story: man meets woman, man and woman fall in love, man and woman get married and have a kid. That is basically what happened to my parents, except there are a few extra pieces to the puzzle: man cheats on woman with some random girl, woman files for divorce and says she wants full custody over her kid. Then, where we are now, the man says that he wants custody over his kid. In case it was not clear, I’m the kid. And I absolutely cannot stay with my dad.

 He used to be a good dad. He took me to places where we did fun things, just us. We’d call it “one-on-one times”. Our favorite thing to do was bowling. I remember when I was young he would always force me to practice my “bowling stance.” I used to hate that he made me do that. I thought it was so embarrassing that in the middle of the floor surrounded by other kids I had to practice something that came naturally to others. But I later realized that he was only doing it so that I would not be embarrassed when my ball rolled into the gutter. That was the kind of dad he used to be. Keywords: used to be. Slowly, as I got older, around twelve, my dad stopped taking me out to places. I had originally thought that this was because I was simply getting older, so he thought that I would not want to go out as much. I now know the real reason: he was cheating on my mom and, the way I see it, me as well, since he was breaking up our family.

 I’ll never forget when I found out that he was cheating on us. My mom was on a week-long business trip in Cleveland, so it was just my dad and me at the house. It was a Sunday night in summer, and I had gotten home from my friend's house early. My friend’s older brother dropped me off, so I guess my dad did not hear me come into his study to say hi to him. 

What I did hear, however, was my dad saying, “Bye, baby, can’t wait for our date tomorrow,” into his phone.

I remember being so excited about my parents going on a date because lately, they had not been talking very much. I immediately texted my mom about the date to get the details. 

When she texted me back, “Date? What date?” I felt something drop inside me.

 I needed to know the truth before the feeling got any worse, so I found my dad and asked him what his plans were for tomorrow. When he said he did not have any, I knew something was going on. The feeling of dread dropped a little more. I was not the kind of kid who lied or stole from her parents. I never had been and I did not plan on becoming one now. But this was too important for morals. When my dad stepped out of the study, I grabbed his phone and looked at his past calls. His last one was to a contact named “Christi.” The feeling dropped some more. I remember at that point, I already knew what was going on. I was smart enough to put two and two together, no matter how bad I did not want to. I found my dad sitting at the kitchen island, leaning on the counter eating a sandwich. Mom picked out the countertops. She says the kind of stone she chose looks homey. He did not deserve that.

“Get off the granite,” I said to him. 

He looked up, surprised his thirteen-year-old daughter could speak to him with such force.

 “Who is Christi?” I asked him, not bothering to beat around the bush. 

“Who?” he replied.

I have always been able to tell when my family members lie to me, even though it rarely happens. My dad had always tried to force his face to look extremely confused as if he thought that doing that would throw me off his trail. He tried it then. It did not work. 

“When were you going to tell me? Tell mom? That you were cheating on her?” I demanded.

“Okay, I don’t know what you heard-” my dad started.

“Are you or are you not cheating on mom?” I asked him.

I think that that is when he started to give up. On him, on mom, and on our family. On me. How does a parent give up on his kid? I think that it was at this moment he decided that it was not worth it anymore to try to lie to us. We were not it. It was also at that moment that I had decided to detach myself from my dad. He had already chosen a twenty-something Pac-Sun cashier over us, so I didn’t really feel bad about it. From my point of view, he no longer has a daughter, even though my mom still makes me address him as “Dad” when I see him. 

That’s what I called him when I saw him at the courthouse on January twenty sixth, a week after my fourteenth birthday. I was now legally old enough to choose which parents I wanted to have custody over me. While my mom and I never actually talked about who I would choose, I thought it would be a pretty clear decision. My mom and I met him outside the courthouse. He brought Christi. Wonderful. It was freezing outside, as it typically is in mid winter in Ohio, but dad would not go inside the courthouse, for some reason. 

“Let’s go” I said to the three of them.

My dad stared at me for a couple of seconds, a little too long. It was as if he actually thought that I would choose him. 

My dad and I used to have this thing where we would stare at each other for as long as possible without laughing and whoever laughs first loses. We never lasted very long. 

This time I did not bother playing the game.

I walked into the courtroom and sat down in the very front, leaving an open seat for my mom.

When we all got there and the official proceeding started, I zoned out. When the time came for me to formally declare who I wanted to stay with, I thought it was going to be the easiest decision of my life. I stood up and was about to say, like I had rehearsed in my head hundreds of times, “I would like my mother to have custody over me”. But when the judge asked me that question, the one that would change my life forever, I paused. It was only for a second, but I paused. He did not call me on my birthday, all he did was send me one of those texts that make balloons pop up all over your phone screen. He did not come to awards night, which both of the parents of all the girls on my lacrosse team came to. But he must still care, right? Why else would he want custody? Why else has he not looked away from me once, the entire time I have been standing up here? 

I did a really dumb thing then. Years after I did this I would always wonder what made me do it. 

I turned to my dad and asked him, barely audible, “Do you want me?”

I have no idea what I expected him to do or say, but when he nodded his head, something clicked. After all he had put my family through, he was still a part of it. No matter how much I wished he could take back everything he has done, he was still a part of it. A part of me. So I chose both of my parents. Split custody. I did not care exactly how the time was split up, but I knew that I could not do what he did. I could not walk away from us.