My father was a good man. He made the best omelets and ramen. He taught me how to have fun, dance, sing, to let loose. He used to tell me stories about princes and princesses. His hair was styled like the early 90’s and when he smiled you could see his one gold tooth. He was a very dark-skinned Cambodian with a charismatic aura. He was very loving towards my sisters and me and loved my mother. But he had a drinking problem.

Three years have passed since we last saw him. It all started after the new year, in 2016. I remember waking up to my parents arguing with each other, the usual. It was the same cycle every day. I would wake up, tell them to calm down and go back sleep. It was tiring for my sisters and me to deal with every morning. We just wanted it to stop. But this one particular morning seemed a little off. I woke up at around 5:40 am. My dad had some personal problems and was arguing with my mother about them whilst being drunk.

He kept throwing accusations at her. It was the same argument over and over. “You don’t love me anymore. Kids, your mother doesn’t care about us anymore,” my father repeated. And my mother would respond with the same response: “Your father is a liar. He’s just a drunk idiot. Don’t listen to him.” The same thing over and over again, it was exhausting.

This argument didn’t feel like other arguments they had in the past. It felt different, like something bad was going to happen. As my mother was about to leave for work, my father stopped her and threatened her. He told her, “If you leave now, don’t ever come back.” My mother responded, “You can’t live a day without me,” and proceeded to leave as my father tried to block her way. I then remember him grabbing the oyster sauce bottle and trying to smash it on her.

All you could hear was the glass bottle against the floor. Luckily, it missed my mother. My father was still drunk and had terrible aim while trying to throw it.

A moment of silence came over us as we realized what my father had just tried to do. My father had never ever tried to hit my mother.

We all stood in shock. And then my mother broke the silence. “I’m calling the police!” she exclaimed. There were many times my parents argued and my mother would say she was going to call the police. But my sister and I would always try to convince her. “No, don’t call them.” But this time it was serious. We couldn’t just ignore that my dad tried to smash a bottle on our mother.

As my mom was calling the police, my dad decided to “run away” so the police wouldn’t catch him. He kissed my sisters and me goodbye and ran out the back door.

My sisters and I cried really hard that day, and it was a school day. Imagine coming to school with big puffy red eyes and everyone asking if you’re okay, yup that was the best day of my life (obviously not).

Three years have passed. I still wonder what my dad is up to. That moment made me realize that things don’t always have a happy ending. My father would tell me all these happy stories about princes and princesses and how they live happily together. But he never told us what happens after the “happy ever after.” What if they aren’t happy together anymore? What happens then? Things don’t always turn out the way you wish it to be.

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