Emily Kwon

Ms. Storer
English 3H Block 1
April 2, 2020
That Phone Call
It was a peaceful autumn night in 2013 when I heard my mom making a phone call. Even
half-asleep in my bed, I could sense the frustration in my mom’s voice that quietly reverberated
around the room.
“Yes, yes, it is decided,” my mom murmured to her friend over the phone.
I did not know what she was talking about, but I knew it was something serious. I
focused on her conversation without letting her know that I was awake.
“Well, we’ve been thinking about it for years,” she added in an exhausted voice.
By the tone of her voice, I immediately realized that she was talking about her
relationship with my dad. Even as a young child, and even without anyone telling me explicitly, I
had known that my parents did not have the typical husband-and-wife relationship. They often
wanted me to be their mediator during their fights, and no words of affection were ever
exchanged. Family dinner mostly comprised of my parents talking to my brother and me, not to
each other. I was surprised when I first saw how common the affectionate jokes and family
intimacy were at my best friend’s household.
As I remained silent on the bed, a pale moonlight penetrated through the curtains and
illuminated the bedroom floor. The air was crisp, and the night silenced. The occasional chirping
sounds of night crickets interrupted my disturbed mind.
Does this mean that my parents are getting a divorce? Did she not think I could hear?
I could not help but glance at my mom through squinted eyes. Her small back was all I
could see, but it was enough to let me know the nights of deep and painful contemplation she
went through before deciding to end her marriage. The side of her face that was visible to me
was shadowed with grave exhaustion and guilt for her children. I wanted to tell her that I did not
blame anyone, and that it was not her fault, but I could not open my mouth and dare say those
words. I did not dare let her know that I listened to her secrets.
“I am thinking about going to the United States with my kids for now. They will be able
to learn English, and my husband and I can decide on further matters later,” she said.
The final blow knocked me down. I could feel my heart racing a thousand miles per hour.
Silent tears began falling from my eyes, and there was no way of stopping them. I desperately
wished for my mom not to see me cry. I wanted to be five-years-old again when “family” was a
concept of permanence and comfort. I wanted to convince my parents to rethink their decision. I
wanted what all the others had, an ideal household in which the parents loved each other, not just
their children. I blamed myself for waking up that night and for not being able to go back to
sleep.
Distant conversations of separation danced amidst the air, marching to the other end of
the telephone line. Family. The three syllables suddenly sounded broken as if they were foreign
to the tongue, to the mind, to the heart.
So, what will happen to me now? To our family? Did she not think I could hear?
 Things would never be the same again. A world is broken, a world of whole, a world that
was everything. The colors of dazzling memories trembled down, leaving my heart completely
black. All I was left to do was to learn to cope with my new life.
To this day, my mom does not know that I heard her phone call in that autumn night.
Because I have learned that the world does not always give you what you want, and because I
never doubted my parents’ love for me, I can now understand and respect my parents’ decision.

1. Emotional truth:
a. This particular memory of mine proves that people have trouble accepting reality when
what they treasure is at risk of breaking apart. They look for alternatives, for other
explanations, and for ways to bring the goodness back into life. When I first learned that
my parents were seriously thinking of divorce in that autumn night, I almost immediately
refuted what I heard. It was impossible for me to accept that my little world would
change forever. All I was capable of doing was reminisce on the days when family life
was stable. I longed for peace and broke apart when that peace could not be achieved. I
grew up to understand my parents completely, and the experience of dealing with such
problem taught me to be stronger and wiser.
2. Story Arc:
a. Exposition: beginning of autumn; quiet night; lying in bed with my mom sitting next to
me
b. Inciting incident: waking up from sleep and listening to my mom talk to her friend
over the phone; realizing that the matter is serious
c. Rising action: being confused about how my parents’ new relationship is going to be;
looking at my mom’s back and sensing her pain
d. Crisis/climax: my mom stating that she had decided to take my brother and me to the
US for us to study English in a new environment; relationship matter is postponed
e. Falling action: wishing for a healthy relationship between my parents; blaming myself
for waking up and having to listen to the secret that I was not supposed to hear
f. Resolution: deciding to accept the reality and learn to deal with my new life; my mom
not knowing that I heard her phone call; I do not want to let her know or make her feel
more guilty than she already is.