Chapter tune: Faster Pussycat – House of pain
So, as I have told you before, my mother was never in the picture. It was just my father and us. My brother and I were really close – we still are, believe it or not. It was always us against the world. The world being, in most cases, our father.
My father was a doctor who loved playing chess and reading science and logic books.
He was also a very mean, controlling man who gave us a hard time when we were kids. He always found a reason to yell at us, should it be that we played in front of his parking lot when he was about to go to work, or just being there in general.
I was never too afraid of him really, but poor Connor lived in a constant state of fear.
There was one time when my father read the newspaper, when Connor told him that one day he would be writing in a paper like that and everyone would read his stories. My father’s response was “Oh, so you want to be one of those useless liars then. What a dream!”. They were two simple sentences, but they crushed my brother’s spirit. He was always on the shy side, but after a couple of remarks like the previous one, he completely closed up. He would spend his time in his room, reading and writing, and generally trying to avoid any confrontation with our dear father.
I, on the other hand, you could say I constantly provoked him. I knew by then that he would be mean no matter what, so I tried to at least keep his fury away from my brother who couldn’t take it.
I think deep down he enjoyed having the opportunity to punish me on a regular basis.
I believe the only time my father’s insults got to me was when an aunt of ours brought Connor a – don’t laugh – toy oven for his birthday. Connor didn’t really pay attention to it, but I decided to bake him a birthday muffin, since we never celebrated birthdays anyway.
When my father saw me, he started yelling: “What do you think you’re doing? Are you a sissy now?? You’re a lazy bum who will never achieve anything in his life, everyone knows that, but a damn sissy too?! Don’t you know that cooking is for women? Is that what you are? A little girl?”
I admit, that really got to me, I think it was partly because I actually enjoyed playing with that toy oven. I never attempted baking or cooking for a long time after that. And after all the yelling, you know what that son of a bitch did? He sat down and ate my brother’s birthday muffin. My brother’s fucking birthday muffin!
Anyway, so the years passed and I became more and more rebellious. Me and my father couldn’t stand each other’s presence any more and we both made sure the other party knew.
I spent my afternoons – and mornings when I skipped school – pranking my neighbors.
For some reason, I loved the thrill that I felt while running to get away from the police when the neighbors called them. Of course I couldn’t always get away.
My father stopped even caring after some time. He had begun to take a liking to booze, and at that time it really seemed to calm his nerves.
My brother and I were gladly preparing him his drinks everytime he got home, because we knew that after two or three glasses he would leave us alone for the rest of the day.
During that time, we had a new neighbor move in next door. I saw her leave every night and return at very early hours. I never really spoke to her at that time, sometimes she saw me staring at her but always gave me an irritated look and left.
When my teen years were behind me, I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life. Everything seemed boring and repetitive. I passed my days and nights doing literally nothing.
One of those nights I saw her again, ready to leave.
I immediatelly approached her and said: “Hey. I know what it is you’re doing and I want in too”
PS: I’m so sorry that this is only part 1 instead of the whole story, it was becoming really long actually! Buuut… the good news is that I already have all the pictures that I need and it’s a holiday here tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll have the next chapter ready tomorrow or the day after that! 🙂