Disclaimer: I, and any parties associated with me, and any parties associated with any parties associated with me and any parties associated with any parties associated with any parties associated with me...do not, and will never, own Life With Derek

I knew it was coming. For months I could feel it building up. I did everything I could to stop it, but nothing worked. For weeks I tried to be perfect, tried to keep everyone happy, listened to everyone's problems. I ignored all of my feelings, pretended to be happy all the time so everyone could take a hint from me and they would be happy too. It didn't help. Everyone just got angrier. Sometimes the house was filled with the sounds of yells and tears. Sometimes there was silence. I hated the silence. Monsters grow in the silence.

Then one day it happened. Mom sat Lizzie and me down and tried to explain that while Dad was not a bad guy, he had some problems that he needed to work out, and he couldn't work them out around us. Lizzie didn't understand, but I did. Dad didn't want us. I mean, I knew it in my heart all along, but I tried to ignore it. He was my dad, right? He had to want us. He had to love us. But he didn't. That's why he left.

It was like your favorite movie had just morphed so that the evil witch won, the prince died, and the princess never woke up. It was the end of the story. My family was gone, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

After the requisite six month separation, my parents divorced. I was twelve. Lizzie and I didn't have to make a decision about who to live with, it was decided for us. Like I said before, Dad didn't want us. He had never wanted us. So I decided I didn't want him. I didn't want a dad. There was nothing good about having a dad. My family became my sister and my mom. And we were happy – and complete, or so I thought.

And then last year, my mom dropped the bomb. She was getting remarried. We were getting a new dad, and three new step-siblings. I didn't tell my mom why I hated the idea, but I made sure she knew my opinion. She didn't care. So she married George Venturi and we moved into his house. The step-sibs were bad, especially the boy who was my age. Derek. But he wasn't the worst. Everyone thought I hated Derek because we fought so much, but that wasn't it. I was angry. I was furious, but not at Derek. Not all the time, at least.

I was angry with my mom. I mean, how could she do this to our family? After everything that had happened, how could she let another dad into our lives, one who was going to do the exact same thing my dad did. Pull the bottom out of our world, leave us alone and broken. George wouldn't stay. How could he? My own dad didn't want me, why would this stranger. But I never told anyone. Not even Lizzie, my little sister, and I told her everything. I didn't want to burst Lizzie's bubble. She thought we were so happy, but I knew the truth. It was only a matter of time.

Mom couldn't understand why I wouldn't let George get close. Why every time he wanted to do something with me, I found something else that was more important. How could I tell her that I wasn't going to let another man get close? It was too dangerous. I had rebuilt my world once, but I didn't think I could do it again. George pretended to be hurt, but I knew he wasn't really. He had his kids, and my mom, and Lizzie.

And then my dad came back. He wanted to see Lizzie and me. He wanted to come visit us. My mom said it would be fine. I got so angry with her, angrier than I had ever been. I yelled and screamed and threatened to run away. George intervened and sent me to my room to calm down, and I was grounded for a month for disrespecting my mother. I didn't care. I didn't want to see my dad again. I couldn't. It would get my hopes up and then when he left again, my heart would break. Again.

My mom couldn't understand why I didn't want to see my dad, and I couldn't tell her the real reason. I couldn't tell anyone. I don't know why, but I felt like if I told someone, they would laugh and tell me I was completely wrong. Or they would scoff and tell me I was right. I didn't know which would be worse-both would be soul-destroying. So I kept it close to me, and my mom spent two weeks trying to convince me to tell her before she got completely fed up and told me I had to see my dad whether I wanted to or not, that he was coming over for dinner and I had to be there.

Seeing my dad again, having him pretend like we were just a big happy family, made me feel sick. There was a black pit in my stomach that wouldn't go away. I didn't eat anything at dinner, and I didn't say a word. No one noticed, except Derek. For some reason he always notices me at the worst times. Things would have been fine if he hadn't said a word, and just let me sit there until Dad left again. But no, he had to open his big mouth and spew out words. It's as if his mission in life is to make mine as difficult as possible.

He asked me what was wrong, because something drastic would have to happen to shut me up. I glared at him, but didn't say anything, hoping no one would notice. No such luck. My dad looked over and started asking me questions. It wasn't like I could ignore him, but I didn't want to talk to him. It hurt too much. So I kind of grunted yes or no answers until my mom looked at me and told me flat out to stop being rude. So I looked back at her and did something I had never done before and will never do again.

I told her to k off. I can't believe that word even came out of my mouth. After I realized what I had said (the shocked looks around the table were a great clue) I jumped up from my chair and ran upstairs to my bedroom. Mom, Dad, and George all followed me, yelling through my door (since I had locked it) about how inappropriate that was and how could I have done that and what were you thinking young lady. The last comment was from my dad, and I just snapped. I slammed open my door, looked him straight in the eye and told him that the minute he walked out on us four years ago he lost any right to question any of my actions. And then I turned to my mom and told her point blank that if she wanted to ruin our family again, that was fine with me, but she shouldn't force me to participate. Then I turned to George, who had a shocked look on his face and apologized for ruining dinner. And then I slammed my door in their faces.

I don't know what happened after that. I assume they went downstairs and finished dinner, and then Dad left, because I didn't hear anything else from them until Mom came back up at about 10pm and knocked on my door.

"Case, can we please talk?"

At this point, I had pretty much cried as much as I could, so I told her to come in. When she came in, I didn't look at her, but kept my back turned and my covers pulled up to my chin. I didn't really want to talk, but I figured I owed her at least an apology.

She crawled into bed with me and put her arm around me. "Sweetie, what did you mean when you said I was going to ruin our family again?"

"I don't really want to talk about it, Mom. I'm sorry I yelled at you though. It was uncalled for."

Mom sighed. "So my little girl is back? The alien who took over her body has left?" She tried to make it a joke, but it fell sadly flat. I tried to pull away from her because I was starting to cry again, but she wouldn't let me. "Sweetie, I know something's wrong. I also know it has something to do with your father." Well, no duh. "Honey, you have to talk to me. Bottling all this emotion up isn't good for you. You know you can tell me anything." At that, I scoffed. I tried not to, but it just escaped.

"You don't think you can tell me anything?"

When I just barely nodded, she sighed again. "Does this have anything to do with the reason you will barely talk to George?"

I didn't do anything. How could I? She was getting so close to the truth. I think she was hurt by my silence, but who cares? I had to keep everything the way it was. If I didn't, I was going to fall apart.

"Come on sweetie. Talk to me, please." I could hear the tears in her voice, but I still didn't say anything. I just let the tears roll silently down my own face.

After a few moments, she sucked in a noisy breath and choked out, "I-is th-there anyone you will talk to? Anyone you would be willing to open up to? How about Emily?"

I thought about it and immediately discarded the idea. My best friend was great for all the shallow stuff life required, but I couldn't ever talk to her about something like this. I couldn't talk to anyone.

When I didn't answer, she tried again. "How about the counselor at school? Paul? Will you talk to him?"

I still didn't answer. I didn't want to talk about this. Couldn't she understand?

"Casey, you have to talk to someone. Anyone! Please, for me? Or for Lizzie? She's so confused about what happened tonight." I almost groaned. My mother knew exactly how to force me to do something. For myself, I wouldn't do anything. But for Lizzie? I was her big sister. It was my job to protect her. So, for her, I would do anything. And then I thought of the perfect person to talk to. It was so insane, it just might work. And maybe he would refuse, so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

Quietly, I forced out, "I'd talk to Derek."

My mom lay there for a few more moments, as if she couldn't believe what she had heard. And then I heard her take a deep breath and felt her get up. "Okay, if you'll talk to Derek, then I will get him up here."

She left, and I turned over, relieved. Derek wouldn't care. He wouldn't want to talk to me, and it's not like they could force him to talk. Or could they?

A few minutes later I heard Derek downstairs. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but then I heard the ominous tread of shoes on the stairs. I couldn't believe they had convinced Derek to come talk to me.

Derek stomped into my room and flopped down on my bed. "Alright, Princess Casey, you flipped out at dinner and now for some unknown freaking reason you told your mom that you would only talk to me, so here I am. What the heck is wrong with you this time, Drama Queen?"

I sat up in bed, feeling oddly better at his sarcastic tone. At least I knew what Derek's reaction to anything I said would be – pure sarcasm and mocking.

"Do you remember how you felt when your parents got a divorce?" My quiet question seemed to surprise him, and he sat up, staring at me for a moment before standing up and moving to the top of my bed. He kind of shoved me over so he could plop down next to me and lean against the headboard.

"A little bit. Why?"

"What did it feel like?"

There was a pause as Derek slowly considered. "I guess, it felt like…well, kind of like…like there was a black hole in my stomach that wouldn't go away. And that all the movies and happy childhood stories had lied to me." He looked at me quickly. "Does that sound stupid?"

I sat there quietly for a moment before whispering, "No. That's exactly how I felt. Only, it was like nothing would ever be right again. And, I guess…" I swallowed, trying to find the right words. "I guess it felt like my dad had left us because, because he didn't love us."

"Case," Derek turned and looked at me. "You know that's not right, right? Your dad's leaving had nothing to do with you, just like my mom's leaving had nothing to do with me."

"I know in my head that you're right, but my heart can't accept it. And, (this is where it got really hard to talk) I guess I decided then that having a dad was a really bad thing, because dads could destroy your world with one gesture or one word. That's really scary."

Derek stopped looking at me and stared ahead. "You know," he said quietly, "I felt kind of the same way about my mom leaving."

After a few minutes of silence, I decided to say something else. "You know, when I moved in here, I wasn't really trying to be obnoxious and irritating and hateful. It's just, I was so afraid that your dad was going to destroy the world I had worked so carefully to build. I mean, if my own dad didn't want me, why would yours?" At this I started crying silently again.

Derek turned to look at me for a few seconds before getting up and walking to the door. "You know, Casey," he said softly, "I am not the person you need to be talking to. I know you are scared, but why don't you try talking to my dad and Nora? It might help if they understood what was going on."

With that he turned and walked downstairs. I sat against my headboard, tears streaming down my face, waiting. In a few minutes I heard Mom and George's footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Sweetie," my mom said hesitantly, standing in the doorway with George. "Derek said you needed to talk to us."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Could you-could you sit down somewhere? And not somewhere you are looking at me please. I don't think I can do this while you are looking at me." I know George and Mom looked at each other as if I was crazy even though I wasn't watching them, but they complied with my request, sitting on the floor at the bottom of my bed.

"Tonight," I started, and then stopped and swallowed. "Tonight, I totally flipped out. And I'm sorry-" Mom tried to cut me off but I stopped her. "Please don't interrupt me. This will be easier if I can get it out in all one shot."

"When you and Dad got divorced, Mom, it was like my world ended. Everything I had known changed. And, it felt kind of like Dad was abandoning us, and that maybe it was my fault and maybe he didn't love us. And I know in my head that this isn't right, but I kind of felt like it was all Dad's fault that our family had broken up. And so I started thinking that maybe that was what men did – they broke up families. And that's why it was so hard to move here, and that's why I can't get close to George. I mean, if my own dad didn't want me, why would George? And that's what happened tonight. I've worked so hard to rebuild my world and I just can't chance it being razed again. And I am so afraid that's what is going to happen if I let George try and be like a dad, or let Dad come back into my life. I am so scared of losing everything again. I already know the story doesn't really end happily, I don't need it proved again."

I stopped, all out of words. That was it, everything that was wrong with me. I waited, half in fear, for my mom to say something. What happened next totally surprised me.

George got up from the floor, came over, and gave me the biggest bear hug I've ever received. I could feel the wetness on his cheek as he pressed my head to his chest. And then he let go and my mom swooped in to give me another hug, openly crying.

"Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry you have been feeling like this! I wish you would have told me sooner!" She just sat there holding me, and rocking, and crying, as if she didn't know what to say. And I guess she didn't. There wasn't anything she could say.

But then George came into the picture again. And what he said started healing up the hole in my heart, even though I didn't know it at the time.

He sat down on the bed facing me and put his hand on my knee. "Casey, I know I'm not your real dad. And I know I'm not always the best dad to my own kids. But I can promise you one thing: no matter what happens between me and your mom, or you and your mom, or you and your dad, I will always be here for you. I know you probably don't believe me, but I love you as my own daughter, just like I love Lizzie and Marti and Derek and Edwin. Nothing you could say or do will change that. I would be honored if you could think of me as your dad. But I want you to understand something. What your dad did, it wasn't because he didn't love you. It was because he loved you more than anything."

That's when my mom spoke up. "Casey, your dad left because he was sick. He had some mental problems that were starting to endanger our family, and he didn't want that. He loved you girls more than anything. And so he did the hardest thing he has ever done, and left. He didn't call or write or fight for custody because he was trying to find a way to fix himself for you girls."

We sat in silence for awhile. "But," I faltered, "but I'm still scared. What if something happens? I don't think I would be able to survive another world-destroying event."

Mom smiled, as if she knew a secret. "Casey, you know how we go to church on Sundays?" I nodded, confused. "Well, George and I have been talking to a counselor at church. I had been rattled by something the pastor said, about God being a comfort and shelter, and I wanted to know a little bit more about that. And do you know what the counselor told us?" I shook my head.

"She said that God promised in the Bible that we would always be able to depend on Him. He said that no matter what happened in our lives, He would always be there, waiting for us to turn to Him. And do you know what else?" Her smile got bigger. "God also said that He knows our pain, that just as He cares for us, He hurts for us too. And that if we ever hurt, to turn to Him and He will be there to hold us and protect us. It doesn't mean that everything is always going to be right in our lives, but if we trust God, He can use everything in our lives for a better purpose. It also means that no matter what happens in your world, if you depend on God, you never have to feel like the world has fallen apart again."

For another half hour, Mom, George and I talked about this. Mom showed me some verses in the Bible that the counselor at church had shown her, about God being our comfort and shelter, and how He said that if He cares for the lilies of the field, how much more would He care about us, His children? I really wanted to know more, especially about the idea that if I depended on God, I wouldn't have to worry about the world falling apart again. That would be a major relief.

Mom and I decided to go see the counselor the next day, and I suggested that Derek come with us. They looked surprised, but both Mom and George agreed that it was a good idea.

After we made our plans, Mom and I hugged, and then George and I hugged, and then we all hugged. And that's when Marti, Lizzie, and Edwin came running in and piled on top of us, giggling. Derek stood in the doorway, smirking. I managed to get free of the pile and walked over to him.

"Thanks, Derek," I said softly. And then I pushed him into the wrestling pile on my bed.

It's good to be part of a family again.