Teens and Divorce

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Ex-Mas
"Sam, come in here for a second, would you?" The dean of students had called him in before to discuss problems surfacing in his progress reports, so Sam knew her office. "Got something in the mail from your dad today."

"Was it the old Season's Greetings with his three pugs in Santa suits again?"

"I must not have made the list this year. Wait. Pugs? Never mind. Have I met him?"

"He's not the kind of guy you would tend to forget."

Winter break was only a week away. The dean picked up the letter and read out loud: Please excuse my son, Samuel, from school Thursday and Friday prior to vacation. He and his younger sister, Katharine, will be flying across country for Christmas. Thank you very much for your cooperation. Please contact me if this presents any difficulties that I can address.

"Sounds like Pops all right."

"You've missed a fair amount of school this year, Sam. You were out with the flu twice for, what, almost two weeks?"

"Second time, that was a pretty bad one."

"And—let's see—maybe I can phrase this delicately."

"I know I'm not really enjoying what you'd call a good semester."

"Well, those midterms were dicey. Still working on that Incomplete in English?

"Making headway, you bet. But you're right, I should be doing better."

"So leaving early could pose a problem?"

"Who says I want to leave? You should hear Katie—she's broken up about missing her school pageant. You know how hard it was to make those antlers? I helped."

"Why don't you tell me what's going on here? Or should I be talking to your dad or your mom maybe?"

"How much time do you have on your calendar today?"

"I've got a few minutes."

"In that case, everything's fine."

"Come on, Sam."

"It's my dad's turn, every other year for Christmas. It wasn't a big deal at first, but each time it gets harder and harder. When I grow up I'm going to get married, build a house in the woods with my own two hands, and stay there for the next eighty years. I get kind of sick just thinking about airports. Not to mention airline food. I can't even fake it anymore. Since my parents split up, it's so weird, the holidays are just the worst time of year, though summers aren't far behind. And they make it even worse by competing with each other. You know, to give the best presents. The way I figure it, my sister and I are due for new cars pretty soon."

"Sounds complicated."

"Complicated? I love my dad, and I know he loves me and Katie. I just wish he didn't live so far away."

"You think things would be a whole lot different between you if he lived across town?"

"Good question. Maybe, I guess. I'll get back to you. I've got lots of friends who have two bedrooms with two sets of posters, two sound systems, two TVs, two sets of books, two sets of clothes, two sets of stepparents, two sets of rules, and you know what's the worst thing? You can't believe it, but it's two holiday dinners!"

"Should I call your dad and point out that you're missing a test on Friday, not to mention the school assembly?"

"Trust me, save yourself the trouble. Two years from now, when it's his turn again, I'll be in college, and it's going to be different, right? Besides, Katie would be crazy without me on the plane."

"All right. I'll check with your teacher, see if you can take the test early."

"You'd do that?"

"I can try. Let's talk when you get back."

"Oh. That a condition?"

"More like a request."

"OK then. But you won't take it personally if we don't talk, right?"

"You know, Sam, my parents split up when I was in high school."

"I could tell—there was something about you."

More on: Divorce Information for Parents