My roommate, Emily, and I were close until I discovered images of my father in her nightstand drawer. She claimed they were harmless, but the close embrace I witnessed between Dad and her afterward indicated otherwise. Feeling deceived, I acted rashly to keep them separated.I was overcome with sadness in my poorly lit dorm room, glancing at family photos that now felt like relics of a bygone era. My father’s words, “We’re getting a divorce, Claire,” destroyed my world and made memories of our once-happy family seem remote.
I was already in college, yet the divorce still came as a shock. I suddenly remembered Emily’s secret cache of wine. Our connection had become my consolation in college, and she had become more like a sister than a friend.Desperate to escape my anguish, I searched her filthy side of the room for any concealed bottle. As I rummaged through her belongings, remorse over breaching her privacy clashed with my desire for relief.
My search led me to Emily’s bedside table, where I discovered something surprising in the second drawer: pictures of my father in various situations throughout the institution.He was a professor at our school, and everyone knew him as Professor Gallagher. Holding the images, I frowned, overcome by perplexity and dismay. I remembered Emily’s comments regarding my father’s classes. “He’s just the best teacher,” she’d exclaim excitedly. But discovering these photographs in her drawer altered my interpretation of her remarks.
The room felt claustrophobic as I began to sweat, and odd thoughts raced through my mind. Emily’s admiration for my father and their divorce suddenly appeared suspect. But I needed to ask her. Just then, she strolled in, her cheery face fading as she saw the images laid out on the bed. She swallowed when we established eye contact.”I can explain everything,” Emily replied, her voice shaking.
“What are my father’s photos doing on your bedside table?” I requested while standing in the center of our room. “I’m not sure what you were thinking, but it isn’t like that,” she added, raising her hands. “Then explain to me. You are my best friend, Emily. “I’ll understand,” I said.She remained silent for a moment, but I noticed her eyes flashing as if she was thinking of an explanation. Finally, she sighed. “The truth is, I’m in love with your father.”
“In love?” I repeated, my voice a mere whisper. I cleared my throat and asked. “You mean you’re having an affair?” “No, God, no. It’s only a crush. “Nothing more,” Emily clarified. But I told her my parents were divorcing, and her admissions only made matters worse for me. Emily conveyed her condolences and told me that nothing was wrong, which provided some solace in the middle of my life’s craziness. She then recommended that we drink to divert ourselves, and I agreed because that is what I wanted in the first place.
The next morning, still hungover, I dragged myself to a class, still thinking about Emily’s confession. However, I couldn’t concentrate and knew I needed to borrow someone’s lecture notes. I messaged a classmate and attempted to clear my mind. Then I tapped on the picture gallery and sighed at all of my family photos. I realized right then that I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to see my father and attempt to sort things out.I knew exactly where his office was, even though it was in a separate department building. I was going to stride in as if I owned the place when I noticed him inside through the small door glass. My feet stepped back as my world crumbled.
Dad and Emily had shared a passionate embrace. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as I hurried away, drowning in my roommate’s betrayal.I paused when I realized I was approaching the dean’s office. Dean Brown had always been kind to me, so I told him everything, confident that he would understand.”Are you sure of what you saw? “Sometimes things can be misinterpreted,” Dean Brown said softly, but I was certain. I recognized what I saw and promised to bring him Emily’s photographs.He exhaled. “I understand that your parents are divorcing. Your dad told me. I’m deeply sorry, Claire.
Divorce is usually difficult for children, regardless of age. Maybe you’re exaggerating things because of that.” “Their divorce has nothing to do with what I saw,” I stated firmly. “A professor has a relationship with a student. “How can you dismiss it so quickly?”Dean Brown attempted to reassure me further, suggesting that he speak with Dad and Emily to alleviate my anxieties. I was skeptical. He did not take me seriously in there.
I resolved to confront my father for real, but he was not in his office. I looked around to see if anything was wrong in his area – an explanation to allay my fears. Instead, I found crimson women’s panties.But I didn’t have time to process it since footsteps sounded outside. I dashed to hide under Dad’s desk. It was he and Emily again. Emily’s voice made me feel ill.
“I’m not sure how much longer I can lie to her. Emily muttered, “She’s my best friend.””It’s also difficult for me not to tell her anything, especially good news. But we need to wait till the divorce is finalized. Claire is taking it quite hard,” Dad responded. I was about to puke. They talked more about me and my pain. Ha! As if they care! But they eventually left.
When I emerged from my hiding place, I discovered a notice for grant presentations, which I had been working on hard. I had totally forgotten the date: that evening.The final assignment was the pinnacle of all of my work throughout the last semester. I have to concentrate on that. Everything was prepared, but I wanted to practice.I attempted to calm myself down in my dorm by going over my notes and rereading my speech. Despite the stress in my personal life, I was determined to do well in my presentation.As I waited for my time in the theater, Dad approached. “Claire,” he began. “I spoke to the dean. “I have something important to tell you.”
I prepared for his confession. But before we could get into it, I was summoned to present.Stepping onto the platform, the weight of Dad and Emily’s treachery clashed with my drive to succeed. Fortunately, my enthusiasm for the subject took over, and I made an engaging presentation that drew loud applause. Afterward, Dad approached me. His real pride collided with my feelings of betrayal, leaving me split and bewildered. The vision of the red panties flashed through my mind, and I returned to the stage.
Grabbing the microphone again, I made the most difficult decision of my life. “Thank you, thank you to everyone who came today for the presentation, and to everyone who supported me,” I said, my voice echoing throughout the room. “I feel that I need to share something important with all of you,” I went on to say. “Today, I was betrayed by two of my closest friends. My father, Professor Gallagher, and Emily, my friend and roommate, are having an affair.”I presented the red panties as evidence. Everyone gasped, and I noticed Emily running in tears.
Dean Brown stepped in, escorting me offstage as the whispers from the audience and my own emotions overwhelmed me. Outside the theater, confronted by my father, I accused him of destroying our family through his affair, crying and yelling like a crazy. “I did not sleep with her, Claire! Emily is my daughter.” Dad screamed, and I closed my mouth. This knowledge turned my world upside down once more. “What?” I choked.
“I found out about it recently,” he said, his voice considerably calmer. “I was with Emily’s mother just before I met your mother. It was a time in my life that I am not proud of. I wasn’t responsible. So I didn’t know about Emily until recently.””So, you’re not divorcing mom because of Emily?” I inquired, smelling. “Of course not,” Dad moaned. “But you still slept with someone else,” I charged, clutching the final vestige of my argument: the red panties. He clarified: “They are your mother’s, Claire.” “Dad, I… I’m so sorry,” my voice unsteady as I realized the turmoil I had caused.
He said somberly, “I appreciate your apology, but the damage has been done.” He walked away from me. I wanted to run after him and apologize again, but I had to wait behind. We were just called back to the auditorium. They revealed the grant winners, and I was not one of them. Dean Morgan approached me thereafter, informing me that my outburst had disqualified me from the race. I cried harder and didn’t stop till the next day. Emily did not return to our room that night. But I got up early and went to Dad’s office, only to find out that Dean Morgan had forced him to retire.
“Dad, please, there must be something we can do. “It’s all my fault,” I argued, crying harder. “It’s too late, Claire,” he responded. “But, honey, everyone makes errors. What matters is that we learn from them and strive to do better in the future.”I will attempt to put things right. I promised, “I’ll find a way to fix this.” “I know you will,” Dad answered with a sorrowful smile. “You are strong and determined. Just remember to think things through next time. Don’t let your emotions determine your actions.” I have kept those words in my heart ever since. Tell us what you think of this story and share it with your friends. It might motivate them and improve their day.