A story from ‘The Family Series’ by the writer of Family – Chapter 5.
Enjoy a different take on Father, titled Dear Diary by Gideon.
Sometimes when I’m bored I like to play eyewitness and describe myself to myself. Short, balding, a little too round around the belly, with very dark brown eyes and tiny wiry beards like I’m sixteen. Well I wish I was sixteen, I was one hot sixteen year old.
Puberty screwed me, looks-wise anyway, but my life has turned out well. Proud owner of a chain of businesses, currently working on my second doctorate, and I’m just thirty-two. I’m married with two lovely children, twin boys, Thierry and Henry, yeah I know, we arsenal fans are weird like that.
Oh, one very important thing about me, I HATE my dad…like I HATE the man so much if he were on fire, and I had a glass of water, I’d rather water a cactus.
It wasn’t always this way, I remember in my third grade I was the only one in all four arms of the class who said his dad was his favourite parent; everyone else wrote a comprehension about their mothers. *shrugs*
Well its all in the past.
Sometimes we go through experiences so distressing, we can never get ourselves to say what happened out loud; we are too ashamed about what we’ve had to go through that we pretend it didn’t happen. Not because we are forgiving, but because reacting would draw suspicion and questions we’d rather not answer.
I’ve had one of those scarring experiences.
I’d share with you an excerpt of my diary…but honestly, I’d rather not relive the events of that day.
September 12th, 2010
A part of me died today. That part of me that loves and trusts people unconditionally, it’s dead.
Today redefined what a shitty day is.
Vaccinations on the farm failed and in two hours, over 1000 birds died.
On the ride home, my right rear tyre picked a nail and I had to change the tire under the pouring rain.
To compound my annoyance, I left my phone in my pocket all the time I was in the rain and the stupid phone got soaked and refused to come on.
So I got home in the pouring rain, soaked to my briefs, annoyed and frustrated and unable to call anyone to come open the gate for me. I had to climb the barbed wire fence to let myself in, tearing my trousers and bruising my thigh and shin.
I was furious, but in fairness I could understand why my dad and nursing wife would be asleep in this cool weather. Besides it was barely 11am and they didn’t expect me home till late in the evening.
Life doesn’t prepare you for the real shocks. There’s no background music increasing in its intensity till you walk in on your dad screwing your wife while your twin babies are sleeping nearby.
I can still picture the defiant smirk on his face and the horror in Addie’s.
What’s worse is I can still remember my weak response, slumping on a chair in a heap and crying like a fool. What was I to do? It was my dad for Pete’s sake, my hero.
I’m writing this because I’ve decided to forget this happened. This is my escape, my therapy. My dad should have known better. I can’t even divorce my wife because word of her infidelity would get out, so I am still ‘happily married’.
For some reason, this line from a famous poem keeps playing in my head: “The distance between you and your father should pull closer, not push farther”.
Gideon blogs at http://zzyzx91.wordpress.com/
Please pay a visit to his blog and enjoy.
You can view the previous instalments of the Family Series here:
Family – Chapter 0
Family – Chapter 1
Family – Chapter 2
Family – Chapter 3
Family – Chapter 4
Family – Chapter 5
Family – Chapter 6