CW / slight mentions of alcoholism.

My mom had a girlfriend. She had ended up saying yes, obviously.

She was happy, through and through. I liked that Callie made her happy. She deserved that more than anything.

I know I keep saying that, but it's true. My mom deserves the world. She does everything she can for me- and now I was starting to realize she really only stayed with my dad for me. Which, made me feel horrible.

Maybe I am jumping to conclusions.

I don't think I am though. We'll find out later.

Tonight, actually. Hopefully. Mom said that her and I would be having a special night for just the two of us. I didn't really know what she had planned, but she told me to be dressed by the time she got home from work.

I was just hoping we had time to talk. About... everything. But mainly about my dad. I wanted the real story. I needed the real story. Or what ever parts of it she was willing to tell me. I couldn't keep assuming, it was killing me to assume.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my mom unlocking the door.

"Olive? You ready?" She had barley gotten through the door before she called out to me.

"Yeah I'm-" I stopped when I saw she was totally not in work clothes. She was dressed nicely, like me. She never came home from work looking like that, it was just weird.

Mom laughed, "I showered at work for once. You all set? The car is still running."

I nodded, "I'm ready."

"Ok, let's go. Hugs first!"

I smiled, walking over and hugging my mom. She hugged back, and then off we went.

I contemplated when a good time would be to bring up what I wanted to talk about the whole dinner. So much so that I didn't end up bringing it up at all. As we had walked out of the restaurant, I had made the decision that I would ask her in the car. It was a better conversation for private, anyway.

I knew I just had to start the conversation somehow.

"Mom?" Really grand, I know.

"Yeah honey?" Mom buckled her seatbelt, looking at herself in the rear view mirror as she started the car. "Dinner was great, wasn't it? We should totally go back there. I can't believe we've never been."

I nodded, "It was really good. Thank you."

"Of course. Did you want to ask me something?" She glanced over at me for a second and flashed me a smile, then changed gears and started driving.

I bit my lip. "I did." I was just stalling now.

My mom laughed at my short response. "Well, ask, then."

"Um." I looked out the window. It wasn't like we could make eye contact anyway. She was driving. "Remember how you said you wanted to be open and honest with me?"

"I do." She nodded.

"Can I ask you something? And get the real answer?"

"What do you want to ask?" Mom kept her eyes on the road, but I could sense her hesitation.

I had to just say it. So, here goes nothing, "What really happened with Dad?"

She inhaled sharply, and I watched as her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"I'm not a little kid, Mom. You don't need to hide it from me..." I said, wanting her to understand that I was old enough. I wanted to know the truth.

"Olivia..." Her voice trailed off.

Silence. Minutes of silence. Was she going to say something? It was starting to get very uncomfortable.

I bit my lip, maybe it was just a sore subject for her. Maybe I had reminded her of something she didn't want to think of. I hadn't thought about it like that before, but I was now realizing it was a possibility. I should apologize to her for-

"I don't want you to think he didn't love you. He cared about you, so much." She finally spoke up.

What was she talking about? Were we talking about the same guy? Actions spoke louder than words, to me. And, his actions did not always match his words. He wasn't ever hurtful directlyto me, he was just... absent. And in my head, that was more hurtful than anything. He wasn't there for me, ever. I guess that's why I have such an attachment to my mom. Because she is always there.

I stayed quiet, though. Those types of thoughts were really only for me to know.

She sighed, "Him and I... we were never on the same page. Obviously, we were young when I found out I was pregnant..."

My mom never said I was an 'accident' or a 'mistake' but I knew that a 15 year old most likely wouldn't intentionally get pregnant. It was an accident. That didn't change the fact that my mom loved me. But, the whole getting pregnant part... that was an accident. I was aware. It didn't bother me or anything. I couldn't imagine putting myself in my moms shoes. She was strong. A lot stronger than I could ever be. And probably insane for pulling through with becoming a mother at age 15. She was amazing. Amazing.

"Those types of things don't always work out, but then when we got back together, and then got married, I thought maybe it would work out. And I wanted that so badly for you."

I noticed the 'for you.' She didn't want it. She wanted it for me.

Mom took a few deep breaths. "Him and I, though- which has nothing to do with you- we just don't get on well, I guess."

She was beating around the bush.

"I'm so sorry that you had to hear all the... arguing and... yelling."

Another bit of silence.

"He had a problem... I think you're aware..." Her voice trailed off.

"A drinking problem." I finished for her. I knew. How could I not know. I saw the garbage bag full of cans every morning when I left for school for almost 10 straight years.

"Yes. And, it just got worse and worse, so did the arguing."

I nodded, I knew that. I heard that.

"I could see where it was going and. I told him to make a choice, and he chose to get divorced."

She didn't say what the options were, but I had an idea. Probably something like in those movies. Usually the people pipe up and chose their families. That was in a perfect world, though. My world happened to be far from perfect.

"Oh."

My mom glanced at me quickly, "Honey, he has a problem. It's not that he doesn't love you."

I just stayed quiet. I wasn't quite sure if the truth was really what I had wanted to hear- and I knew that was just a washed up, simple version of it. That wasn't even the full story.

"Why don't we stop and get ice cream? Something to change the mood..." Mom suggested. She didn't want me to be upset.

I shook my head. "Can we just go home, Mom?"

"Okay." She said softly, visibly looking sad.

I started to wish I hadn't made her talk about it. Way to ruin a great night.