Walking up the staircase to the dingy spare room, I realised that maybe, just maybe,
I was going to miss New Zealand. After all, It's the first time I've been here since my dad passed away,
and I had never really left Ontario after that.
To be completely honest,
It's practically the only place I've been to since the night of the accident, except from school.
I had never really been close to my dad when he was alive, he never really seemed intrested in me,he was
never really part of the family. I don't understand how my Mum put up with him. He'd come home late almost
every night drunk. Sometimes, he'd bring home his rowdy friends, and me and my Mum would hide upstairs,
safe in my room,
telling stories from each others mind to keep us company, so we could stay happy, whilst dad was downstairs,
watching footy and yelling and banging. He'd yell abuse at Mum, and threaten to hurt her and leave her,
telling her that she was nothing without him. She'd just fall at his feet and worship the ground he walked on,
despite the drama. I really don't know how she stood for it.
Me? Well, my dad never spoke to me much, but it's not like I'm complaining or anything. He'd occasionally
give me snide looks in the hallway, or on the days I'd wear a skirt to school he'd try to grab me.
I'd just make a run for it. I stopped wearing skirts after that. He never did tell me he loved me,
probably never did from the start, nor Mum.
He was never a father figure in my mind. I couldn't wait until the day he left.
The only person my father was ever remotely interested in was Mason. He thought the world of him,
and he meant everything to Mason. On the days that Dad would come home at a reasonable time, he'd sit with Mason
and joke and laugh with him, teach him things. He'd take him out to Mc Donalds (Mason's favourie food place),
and treat him to new toys, which was mostly toy guns and soldiers.
I once took a peep into Mason's room once, for I could hear rifle shooting imatations,
and saw him sitting on his carpet, playing with a camo tank, with soldiers in smart uniforms,
showing off their plastic badges with pride. Mason would shoot them down with his toy guns, one by one,
and once shouted bad language. 'He must have learnt that from Dad,' I thought. I couldn't take it anymore.
My so called 'Father' was making me sick. I wanted him out, out of my home, my life, Mum's life, Mason's life,
the COUNTRY.
Even on nights when Dad would come home late, Mason would go and sit on his lap and Dad
would let him drink some of his beer, and talk with his friends, watching the footy, cheering and rooting,
whilst me and Mum lay upstairs, me covering my ears and Mum sometimes in tears.
He worked at the local pub 'The Crowned Swan' on a weekly basis, four days a week, didn't get paid much.
He was there as a bartender, most likely chatting up the girls and offering them free drinks. It was one of
the most run down places in Ontario, it's really no wonder it got knocked down and built into a new area
for show homes. In all honesty, I'm glad it did, and Im glad he's gone...
No, i suppose thats to harsh, i take it back...
Although i never really wanted anything to do with my dad.
It was a big shock for all of us on that cold, wintry night.
My so-called Father was driving home from Casey's house.
He was in his car, on his way home, driving through the
endless frosty streets of Ontario. He came to a set of lights,
and didn't stop the car...
his drunken self carried on
driving down Clenton street, one hand on the steering wheel, other hand clenching
a bottle of sharp whisky, it's smell so sweet, the stench foul, undoubtedly making Carter's nose twitch
from the back seat of that darn old car...
Yes...that's right, my younger brother Carter had been in the car with him that night..
all of a sudden, a big white truck appeared,
having turned the corner on Lassen road, and collided with my father
at the main street roundabout...he and Carter had both died on impact...
After the incident, I locked myself in my room for days on end, crying into
my pillow, asking God why he'd had to let that happen.
I didn't care much about the loss of my father, he was a selfish,
inconsiderate man, always evil to my loving mother, who was blind to his vile ways.
He just loved to leer at 17yr old girls, not caring about others in the slightest.
But my brother, my dear brother Carter, why did he have to be caught up in
the incident? Why did my Father even take Carter to Casey's? He didn't have to
be with him, he was supposed to be at home, with me, safe and sound, watching
'Nev the bear' on TV, his idol. Thinking about it now, I can't believe was stupid
enough to let Carter go with Dad, I guess it was because I knew how much Dad had
meant to him, and Casey too...
Casey is Carter's mom. Before mine and Mason's mother, my demised father had been
wed to a disgusting beast of a woman, Casey Linham...They had broken up due to 'creative differences',
whatever that means. I think my Dad had always loved her, even after marrying Mom. Maybe she still
loved him too..Who knows what could have been happening behind the closed door of Casey's bedroom whilst Carter
was left unattended downstairs to innocently play with his Lego Bricks?
And Mason...him and Carter got along so well, like two peas in a pod, just like each other, with the same dimples, too...
When me and my mother found out that Carter and dad was never coming back, I had to hold back the tears, be responsible
and tell little Mason that his big brother and daddy was now in heaven, as an angel, looking down on him with a heart full of love...
It wasn't easy...
''Who's going to take me to McDonalds now? Why have they left us?
Can't i just shoot them back down with my gun if I spot them the sky? Then they can be here with us forever!'' he'd cry.
Poor Mason, he's just too young to understand...
If I'd have just insisting on keeping Carter with me instead of letting him go with dad...no, i don't want to think about it...
I just couldn't help feeling as though im responsible for Carter's death...
That's when I started shutting myself in my room everyday after school, only bothering to go downstairs to leave the house
or fetch food and drink...I felt as if no-one understood what I was going through. It's still the same routine now...
I've neglected all my friends. When they'd ring to try and cheer me up and ask me to go out, i'd say over and over again
'maybe another time.' until eventually they got huffy and stopped calling. I have no-one now...
No-one except Mum and Mason...