I'm not sure. But I think. Do you remember when you were 12 and had a crush on that person with the different chromosomes than you boast? You did your best to not even let anyone have a glimmer of your secret hearts desire, but somehow, somehow your mom just always knew? She could even still do it at 20, just by the mere mention of that ones name. She just always knows.

It's happening to me. Only it's me who just knows and I hate that uncomfortable feeling. Like the divorce is taking place only to free up a piece of paper, which was nullified in the minds of those who vowed it wouldn't ever be. I lay in my bed tonight, next the window above our front porch and listened to the voices that played up through the lattice. Voices that if I wanted to pretend I could have pretended they belonged to my parents, even though only one did. The other belongs to someone I love, someone I trust, just not someone I want the other parent talking with on my front porch, under a full moon, in a precarious position of vulnerability.

I hated that feeling.