“Can bad husbands be good fathers?”

I’ve watched my mother weep upon learning yet another of my Papa’s mistresses more times than I can count. I hear people urging her to leave, they will curse him on her behalf. But she will raise her head, swallow her sobs, and say, “he’s a good father.”

His infidelity taught me that marriage is fragile. That even though you promised to love that person until the end of time, it can mean nothing. Because promises are words. And words often meant nothing.

The tension will cool off, and I will hear him say “I love you” to her weeks after his recent affair blew up. I will be convinced that he does love her, after all, he did come home with her favorite food. He kissed her. He charmed her. He must have loved her.

Then I suppose his “love” is fleeting. He taught me that you can love someone and not respect them. That you can love, but not care. That love is yet another word.

I resented him.

Then, he will love me. He’ll get me delicious food, bring me around, give me money. He will make me happy. I will watch him slave in his work just to make me happy.

And I’ll think he is a good father.

But if he’s a bad husband, and a good father, does that make him a good or bad person?

I was a child. It was confusing.

I hated resenting him. I hated loving him. But mostly, I hated that he is not evil.

Stories taught me that people who hurt you are the villains. Their sole purpose is to hurt you. You can hate them freely, they’re not good, after all. They were made to receive my anger.

But when I close the books I held and look around me, the people I’ve resented are not evil at all. They’ll hurt me, and then turn around and show me they can love, too. That they love as much as I do.

I mean, they are so hard to hate when they’re as human as you.

I’ve stared at people long enough to see how much they’ve hurt me. Instead of their faces, I see a list of how I’ve been wronged.

Pointed out my insecurity.

Berated me for a mistake.

Degraded me for a decision.

Showed how to withhold respect.

But they’d help me cover up my insecurity, hand over a fruit after a fight, hold my hand while we cross the street, shield me from oncoming traffic, kiss me on the forehead, tuck me in bed.

It’s not that what they did is any less wrong. I understand that much. But it’s not that they do not love me either. I understand that, too. They, simply, were not out to get me.

But they did get me.

Their ways did pile up until my insecurities became self-hatred. I associated mistakes with anger so I didn’t make any more—perfectionism. And my chastised decisions became indecisiveness. Seeing my parents betray each other is a whisper telling me that love is a privilege.

And I’ll look at all the ways I am unkind to myself.

I am the way I am—so critical, so loathing—because they were first.

And anger will bubble up inside me. I will resent them.

Then realize, they are the way they are, because someone was to them. They saw a reflection, and mirrored it.

And I look at myself, mirroring them too. I will berate people for the same things I’ve been berated for. I will unknowingly do what I have always resented. Does that make me a hypocrite? Even if I didn’t stare at the mirror and decided I will become evil?

So when does a bad person become evil?

When they refuse to change? But changing doesn’t undo the ways you’ve wronged others. You can apologize, but not be forgiven. And no one has the right to demand forgiveness.

If no one forgives you, does that make you evil?

How big of a mistake do you have to commit to become evil?

But if you had a reason, does that make you any less wrong?

If you’re right, but I’m hurt, who’s wrong?

It’s all so confusing.

I wish I could snap and cut them off with my sanity intact.

But if I do, and I’m no longer hearing my worthlessness, ugliness, and faults; when I’m able to make mistakes without a shadow looming over me, I will be left with my own thoughts.

Our laughter will echo. Their figure will be everywhere I glance, but nowhere I stare. I will notice that the warmth of their embrace isn’t there, and it will suddenly be too, too cold…

It would be so much easier to hate them had they been a villain.

But they weren’t evil. To me, they were just bad people.