“Your Father and I are getting a divorce Corinne.”

I was 11 years old and babysitting across the street at the Lynberg’s home. A three story home. Huge. It was just me and some baby they had asked me to babysit. A BABY. I was definitely not the best kid for the job. I had rarely ever been around a baby before, mind you, all alone with one.

I was never a great baby sitter. I usually, almost always, okay, every single time, hung out in the kitchen. It worked like this: Once the coast was clear, meaning everyone was gone, and it was just me and some mini-human, I would stroll over to the kitchen. I would methodically open the refrigerator and freezer, then move over to each cabinet and cupboard. One by one, looking for salami, ice cream, candy, cake, cookies and suprise treats. One time I hit the jackpot and found the Halloween Candy (sorry kids.) I just wanted something to eat. Not that I was necessarily hungry. But there was something about sneaking through the cupboards, finding the goods, eating the goods (standing of course) and not being caught. I just had this insatiable desire to eat their food.

Now in order to not get caught, there was a little trick. Yes! A trick a Rooney. I would take a bite of one thing, a few bites of another, and then one of something else. Now, if I had lost all control and ate an entire box of something, that required ditching the box in my purse or bag. If the empty box was too big, that required wrapping it up in newspaper or paper towels and finding the trash bin in the garage. I could not leave any evidence.

Honestly, I think they knew though….

Okay, back to Mom’s words. The Lynberg’s phone rang, I answered it and it was Mom’s voice on the other end.

“Corinne, your Father and I are getting a divorce.”

My first response was to cry. Not heavy, dramatic crying, More the soft kind where you feel your cheeks hurt, you try not to cry, but the tears came with one blink and just slowly rolled down my face. I can still remember tasting my salty tears as they rolled past my lips.

I know I wasn’t being dramatic. They weren’t manipulative tears, they were honest tears. No one was even there to see me cry. Well, I mean, there was that baby, but she was in the other room.

Mom had said those 9 words. My world slowed down, tears came in slow motion, and then Mom spoke again… almost like I was in trouble.

“Why are you crying Corinne? Don’t cry. You knew this was going to happen.”

That’s all Mom had to say. With those words, I stopped crying. Done! All better! Pretty impressive I could stop my tears on a dime. Especially since they were so sincere, not phoney balonys.

I mean, I guess she was right? Maybe I knew, but I didn’t know. I’m not sure. There was that incident a couple years prior at the roller rink. Karen Snot Ass Mulder said in that bratty tone, ” Your parents are getting a divorce, that’s what my Mom said.” I defiantly responded “No they are not.” By the way, I still hate Karen for saying that to me. What did she know? And me, my 8 year old self I was gracious to her. I never told her that my Mom said Karen’s Dad likes men.. Yes , “ACDC Corinne.”

Okay back to Mom saying I knew the divorce was going to happen. I mean, maybe? Just a few months earlier, my Dad’s Employer, THE SOUTHERN PACIFIC RAILROAD did have a big going away party for him. It was at The Sheraton Hotel in the City of Industry. Dad had been promoted AGAIN. He went from being the LA Division Superintendent to a Vice-President of something in the company. They were transferring him to Houston, Texas. It was quite an event. Similar to a wedding! It was in a big ball room, several round tables, name cards displaced on where to sit. A bar and dance floor. A sit down dinner with chicken or fish. I sat with my family at a special table. It was shaped like the table displayed in the “The Last Supper” with Jesus and his disciples. Except it was Dad, our small family and a few important work people.

Not to obsess, but maybe I should have known? I was there. They were giving speeches to Dad. Wishing him good luck in Houston.. It just didn’t occur to me, in my 11 year old brain, that this was it. My parents would be getting a divorce soon. I also didn’t think I was moving to Houston. It was all so confusing.

Back to those last 11 words Mom said: “Why are you crying Corinne, You knew this was going to happen.”

With that, I had stopped my tears, said “Ok.” and got off the phone with my Mom. I stood there in the Lynberg’s kitchen. I proceeded to raid the cupboards, the freezer, the fridge and the cookie jar. There was only one problem… it didn’t matter how much I ate, I just couldn’t seem to get full.