FRIDAY. The week just came to an end, and so did my parents' marriage -- at least that's how it looked like when I got home and saw my mother crying on the couch. I didn't know what was going on. My father had a travelling bag in his hand, and when I looked on his right, a big piece of luggage was there too. Is he leaving us?
"What is going on?" I asked them both.
"I'm sorry you have to find out this way, Rach," said Dad.
"W-what? I don't know what you mean? What is happening?"
I sat beside my mother, who was still wearing her scrubs. I couldn't remember if she just came home from her shift or just about to go on one. Whatever it is, someone has to tell me what's taking place. This is scary.
"I'm going home," he said.
My eyes widened. "What are you talking about? You're home. What do
