For as long as I can remember, I've been able to see a thin, red thread that connects people. Growing up, I assumed it was something natural. An unavoidable phenomenon that drew people to their soul mates.
My parents had one. In my eyes, they always seemed like the perfect example of love. You could feel it in everything they did. Like, when my dad would come home with flowers for my mom just because it was a Tuesday and he remembered she loved lilies. Or, when my mom made him her special chocolate cake because it was his favorite and he needed a sweet little treat.
All of that turned on its head when I came home one evening from school, the street I lived on lined with police cars. My house, once a safe haven, was now sectioned off with yellow tape that read, 'Police Line: Do Not Cross'.
A female officer, face stern until she saw me approach, pulled me to the side. Her face was wrecked with pity as she explained that my mommy had hurt my daddy, and I would be staying with my grandparents when they arrived. All I remember after that is watching her walk away to join another officer; a thin red line ran between them.
I didn't know it at the time, but my father had been having an affair. The other woman had gotten pregnant, and he couldn't hide it anymore. That morning, after I had left, he sat down with my mother and asked for a divorce. A fight had ensued, and my father made the fatal mistake of admitting everything to her. As he was telling her that he wanted joint custody and he would give her a generous settlement, she pulled out a kitchen knife and stabbed him seven times in the back. She didn't fight when the police showed up and dragged her away.
My grandmother, tears streaming down her face raced over to me the second she pulled into the driveway. She held me tight, stroking my hair as she had done a thousand times when soothing me.
"Everything is going to be okay." She choked out through sobs. "I'm here, and I'll take care of it."
She had to enter the house to get my things, refusing to let me go with her to save me the trama of seeing the bloody mess that lay in the kitchen. Waiting in the car was agony. Every minute felt like a lifetime, and all I wanted was my parents. My normal, happy life that had now turned on its head and imploded.
"You're going to live with Grandma and Pop Pop from now on." She tried to sound cheerful as she packed my little pink suitcase into the trunk of her car. All I could do was nod and stare out the window on our hour long trip to their house. My new home.