From my crumb-infested car seat I could see those flashing green arrows over Dad’s shoulders. Those arrows that would appear just before every twist and turn in the road. No matter how far the destination, those green arrows would flash the whole way there. That’s how Dad always knows where to go, I thought. He just has to follow the green arrows. 

 

I cried in the shower again last night. I thought it had been a good day, but when the hot water hit my back and stung my neck, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking. Thinking about what he did and what they didn’t do. I shouldn’t be crying anymore. The grief-period has closed. It’s time to move on, but how do you move on from something like that?

 

The green arrows were as reliable as any GPS. I would watch as they would guide Dad through highways, neighborhoods, dirt roads, forests, and corn fields. I felt safe knowing we had those arrows to bring us home. Even in the darkest of nights or the rainiest of days we would always be guided home.

 

She saw me in the hall today. She tried to make small talk, but my words got stuck in my throat. I didn’t want to talk anyway. I don’t know what hurt worse, her believing him over me or her pretending like nothing happened. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want it to hurt anymore. I just want this feeling to go away. 

 

One night, driving home from Grandma’s house, Dad must not have been paying attention. He took a wrong turn and didn’t know where we were. We were lost, looping around the same houses and deserted park over and over again. It was dark, and I just wanted to go home. “Just follow the green arrows,” I cried, but Dad didn’t know what I was talking about. No one knew what I was talking about.

 

Dad thinks I should let it go. “I wouldn’t let it get to you, sweetheart.” Like it’s that easy. Maybe it should be that easy. Why isn’t it that easy? It’s like they live in my head, whispering his name into my ear every time I have a moment to myself. I don’t want them in there. I just want to scream. Get out of my head, get out of my life. He left me with nothing, and you’re letting him get away with it. But they didn’t listen before, so why would they listen now?  

 

It wasn’t until I was a little older that I found out the green arrows were just turn signals, turned on and off by Dad himself. It wasn’t those magical flashing lights that got us home. It was all Dad. He always knew exactly where to go and how to get there. I wish I knew how.