Memory: the last week.
Travelling home from summer holidays with my dad’s family. In the truck we eat some cheese sandwiches that will make me sick for the next week. When we arrive at home the house is spotless because dad’s wife stayed behind for a few days after we left to clean it. My backpack, which has been on holiday and is therefore full of sand, is not allowed inside. I have only a couple of clean items of clothing to wear.
I decide to go see my uncle and aunt on my mother’s side who live nearby. They are nice and the next day I take a big bag full of my clothes which have been sitting by the door at dad’s place. We have dinner and watch the DVD of Chicago.
The next day I plan to go into the city to see the art gallery but dad’s galah escapes and we have to spend all day asking people if we can go into their backyards to toss tennis balls at it, as it moves from tree to tree under the barrage. We eventually get the bird back.
The day after, my aunt takes me around Melbourne shopping for clothes that will no longer fit when I’m back at home and have the usual amount of food to eat. I am quite thin, but haven’t really noticed. Dad gives me a key to come back in at night.
The next morning I sit in the garden and she comes and takes the key away. Later she will say she doesn’t know my family; they could be associating with criminals.
It’s her, really. She can’t stand my presence. I just put up with it because that’s what I’ve always done and at this age it doesn’t hurt any more. As a child on access visits I would cry and cry and get sick. I would learn to be afraid and ashamed of myself. Mostly, I would learn that I couldn’t cope with very much. Now it’s different, and I’m not afraid. She can’t get to me, and if he can’t protect me it doesn’t matter any more.
I leave on the morning of the last day, walking with my backpack to the train station. Funny how the line between childhood and adulthood can manifest in something so disposable as a train ticket.
My aunt sees me off at the airport. On the plane home it’s all ocean and desert.
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It seems like it still hurts. You’d have to be other than human for it not to.
I do loathe adults who cannot behave as such.
Comment by nailpolishblues — Sunday June 25 2006 @ 10:54 pm
That’s tough, man. Roland has a very similar relationship with his own Dad’s family. Make sure next time you go to Melbourne, go to Carribean Gardens on a Wednesday or Sunday and all will be well.
Comment by Clare — Monday June 26 2006 @ 10:16 am
Nails - right on. Well put.
Clare - Thanks. And maybe I will. Though I won’t be able to take any of the fruit or vegetables home with me… and fucked if it ain’t in the middle of nowhere… eh, we’ll see.
Comment by Mark — Monday June 26 2006 @ 5:51 pm
What a sad start to the day for me. Your writing is quite affecting.
Lucky it ends all quietly resigned and strong, else I would have to have to spend hours trying to figure out a way of juggling over the internet to cheer you up. Which would be doubly hard, because I can’t juggle very well.
Comment by boofuls — Tuesday June 27 2006 @ 11:28 am
What? You can juggle perfectly well. And thanks.
Comment by Mark — Tuesday June 27 2006 @ 1:23 pm
What a stepmonster. An old friend of mine had similar problems with her stepmonster, except she once woke the two little girls up in the middle of the night bleeding from where she’d broken glass by throwing it in the kitchen yelling, ‘See! See! This is what your father drives me to!’ The father of course never protected his two daughters and was quite content to form a new family with the wife and slowly forget his old one ever existed.
You’re a great writer Mark. You perfectly captured the way adults can still hurt they way children do.
Comment by audrey — Tuesday June 27 2006 @ 4:29 pm
I was just sitting here pondering the absurdities of family. The way they think anything they do is okay because - they’re family. But so much of what families do to each other is horrible - they wouldn’t treat strangers on the street with that lack of decency, but it’s okay to do it to your relatives…. WTF???
Comment by marcheline — Wednesday June 28 2006 @ 6:35 am
Audrey - that’s such a sad story. You’re being a heart-breaker this week.
March - Yeah, I don’t know either. I guess people feel like that have to control members of their family, but not strangers so much.
Comment by Mark — Wednesday June 28 2006 @ 7:16 pm
[…] These are her main points: a) she is sorry for behaving like a psychotic piece of work (as outlined earlier) b) she did that because he bought me a plane ticket from WA with her money and told her I bought it myself so she wouldn’t be mad (how cunty is that?) c) it isn’t him leaving her - she’s finally managed to make him leave (now that he’s found someone else to move in with) d) she’s wanted a divorce ever since he __________ (well, perhaps this is the limit of online diary discretion - suffice it to say I’m not going to forget those accusations EVER). […]
Pingback by p a p e r t r a p [ d o t ] n e t » Blog Archive » Family Tribulations: the final and most interesting part. — Thursday July 20 2006 @ 6:47 pm