My dad called my work today and told the administrative officer that he had lost my phone number. I feel embarrassed about that. Not that he lost the number, which is just embarrassing for him, but for taking up other people’s time. And I don’t know how you can lose somebody’s phone number, especially a relative. I guess he accidentally threw his filofax in the garbage. Or his wife did.

My dad isn’t a complete twit. He did build his own house, which I guess is pretty cool. I’ll have to ring him tomorrow to see what he wants, and I’ll probably have to make plans to see him when I get to Melbourne. Which is the hard bit, because he’ll want me to go to that house and I promised myself I would never go back there. He won’t understand. I told him a long time ago and I’m sure he forgot about it.

I don’t know.

Why should I keep that promise if it will never mean anything to him? Why should I bother being angry if it won’t change anything?

But still what I’m scared of is that I just don’t have the courage to go there. Promises to myself aside. Walking into that place again and pretending to be happy to my sisters and my brother… I don’t know if I could get halfway up the drive. And if that’s the real point, then it would be better if I didn’t call until after. I’d rather be the lazy son than the idiot who wants to make a scene; who can’t just be normal.

Big strong man am I. I don’t know why this is suddenly such a big deal.