Chapter Two - Change

            I’ve been thinking about the future for the past hour. Trying to occupy myself in my bedroom while my father sit’s in the next room isn’t exactly what I’d call fun. But back to the future, (I love when I make unintentional references.) there are so many things that I think about when the word ‘future’ comes into mind. Sometimes I think about me as an old person and what family I would have, other times I imagine being psychic like Raven from ‘That’s so Raven’ and imagining how different my life would be. But it’s so difficult to really pin point what I want, and how I can get it.

            I never listen to the emotional speeches teacher’s give you in school about choosing the right career path, because up until this very moment, I still have no idea what I want to do. It’s not something that I’ve seen as important. I’ve always had something going on and have never thought about it or anything. Don’t get me wrong, I really want to do well in life, it’s just that I don’t know what to do well in.

            In the future, what do you think about? I often end up thinking about family, I don’t know if I want family. I don’t really know when I would if I did either. I’m not too keen on sixteen and pregnant, so I guess I’ve got enough time to figure that stuff out, and some other stuff too. But I always imagine myself sitting in a rocking chair on a porch looking out to this yellow meadow, and then I wonder why the hell I live in the middle of a forest.

           

            My phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and pressed the middle button to light up the screen. ‘New message from: Francesca.’ Oh right. I haven’t told you about Franc yet. I know what you’re thinking, she’s my girlfriend. Well, she’s not. Franc is the only true friend I have made in my entire life, and I can admit that without feeling ridiculous. I met her at school about three months ago, (I haven’t heard anything about moving yet.) She is probably the sweetest person I know and trust. I clicked ‘open’ and read what she sent me.

            ‘Hey man. What’s up? I was thinking we could get together at three or something? Mum’s being a b***h; I need to get out of the house.’ Thank, god. I now have a reason to leave. What was the time? One thirty. Damn. I clicked ‘reply’ and typed a message back.

            ‘Definitely, I’ve got so much to tell you. I need to get out of the house too. Meet me at the park?’ and sent. The park was the single most boring place on this planet, yet the best place to spend time with Franc. We’d spend hours there after school talking s**t and laughing about nonsense that doesn’t make sense. I guess that’s what you could call a true friend.

            My computer was so dusty. I shouldn’t really leave the screen flipped up to collect dust. When I turned it on, I could swear the fan made a clump of dust fly off of the desk. As I waited for all of the boring windows messages to come up and load, I logged in and went on the internet. I don’t know what kind of time I plan to waste via Facebook and Tumblr, but it was worth having a good look anyways.

            As I wished scrolling burned calories, I raced through my dashboard looking at the different crap people I follow reblogged. I saw a couple kissing, a picture of trees, a couple of cat pictures and a cheesy quote about life. God, I wonder what went through David Karp’s head when he invented this.

            Facebook was filled with the usual bullshit, some eleven year olds complaining about sex and a photo of something not overly funny with about 42809723589632073402673258649362893763 comments. And oh look, I’ve managed to waste about ten minutes, brilliant.

            Eventually I found a recently read article by some of my friends titled “Woman watches man behead pet poodle.” I had to read that one a couple of times. I opened the article and read.

            When I finished, I shut down my computer, and shut the lid quietly. I stared at my hands, they were actually shaking. I couldn’t quite believe it. People are used to hearing horrible stories like that; people are used to insane people doing insane things all over the news because it travels like light, but for some reason, I couldn’t quite come to terms with this. For one thing, I love dogs. Not particularly poodles, but just dog’s in general. Two things, I don’t understand what went through that man’s head when he decided to decapitate a poodle.

A human being, and the most horrible thing was the fact that I’m a human being too. Put yourself in that situation, you see a dog; you happen to have a knife in your hand, now go and imagine yourself killing it. I just can’t do that. It’s not more the fact that the dog got killed (don’t get me wrong, it’s a disgusting act.) but just to think as I look down at my own hands, that the same type on instrument can cause so much harm. It makes my stomach feel odd.

 

My clock in my room read two forty. That’s enough time to walk there and be maybe five minutes early, sweet. I put on my denim shoes and my leather belt. Turned on my hair straighteners quickly and straightened the curly out of control bits to make it look decent, put in my septum piercing and threw on an Aztec jumper and a dark blue beanie. Wondering where my father was, I opened the door.

I couldn’t see him at the moment. His cup was sitting soaking in water in the sink, maybe he’d left. I shut my door behind me and without looking around the house to obviously; I walked straight for the front door.

“Where are you going?” said a plain, deep voice from my right. I turned. He was sitting at the table reading the newspaper, not looking at me. I didn’t want to say anything to him, so I continued walking to the door. “I SAD WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” he screamed. My heart started pounding harder and my eyes widened, thank god he didn’t see. He’s never screamed at me like that. Reluctantly, I turned to him.

“Out to see a friend.” I said quietly.

“Who?” one worded responses, the most irritating. Through gritted teeth I answered:

“Francesca.”

“Who’s Francesca? How come I’ve never met her before?” My blood was boiling, I could hear my heart beating in my ears, and my eyesight was throbbing. I’ve never been so pumped.

“I met her at school. I’ve known her for a while, we’re good friends.” I managed to say calmly. He put the newspaper down and looked up.

“Is she your girlfriend?” oh my goodness. Yup, he’s officially kicked me over.

“NO! And why the f**k does every female I know have to be my girlfriend?” I yelled at him, fists clenched.

“I never said that! You’ve hardly known any females! I was just curious!”

“Yea? Well you can keep your curious nose out of my life! I don’t want you in it, so just f**k off!” I turned my back, swung the door open so hard that a picture actually fell off of the wall.

“DON’T SWEAR AT ME!” I heard him yell as I walked down the front path. The echoing of the front door slamming spread down the entire street. A pedestrian turned around to see what was going on. But I just pretended not to hear any of it and walked down the road.

As I walked, I couldn’t help but kick every single stone that I saw on the foot path with suck strength that it took a few seconds before I could hear it land. I was trying not clench my fist’s but they were just clenching and unclenching like mad, if I had any less control over my anger, I’d be ripping my hair out.

That’s it. He’s done it; he’s officially crossed the line. There is no way in my life that he is going to have anything to do with me if I can help it. I want him gone.

I completely forgot. Mum still wasn’t home; I don’t know where she was. Maybe I should text her, maybe she knows why he’s at home. I opened my phone as I crossed the road onto the other foot path and began to type.

‘Mum? Where are you?’ I couldn’t possibly type anymore without throwing my phone on the road. I slipped it back into my pocket and stepped over the chains that surrounded the parks perimeter. Franc was already sitting there on one of the swings looking down at her phone. I stood on a twig and she looked up and smiled.

“You’re here, finally!” She said, and hugged me tightly.

“Sorry, I got a bit help up.” I sat in the empty swing next to her and we began to swing slowly back and forth.

“What happened?” She asked kindly. I’ve never want to tell anyone something so bad in my life.

“My dad cheated on my mum.” I said plainly. Her eyes widened as she clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Are you serious?” She said loudly. “What the f**k! Is your mum okay?”

“I think so. She wasn’t at home this morning, but dad was.” I rolled my eyes at the thought of him.

“Did she kick him out or something?” She wondered. I nodded and told her the entire story about my father arriving this morning. “I’m starting to think your dad’s a bit of a dick head. No offence.” She said after I told her about him asking for forgiveness.

“I couldn’t care less, I hate him right now.” She paused and looked at her feet for a moment.

“So what’s going to happen with you and your mum? It’s obvious that you’d never live with your dad.” I shook my head in agreement. “What if your mum, what if she wants to move?” she breathed. I actually never thought about that. Knowing mum, if she wanted to move somewhere nice, it’d be far away from here, which means I wouldn’t get to see Franc anymore. Why are parents so frustrating?

“Why does it have to do this to me?” I groaned. Franc looked confused.

“What did what to you?”

“Life! Everything! I’ve never had any true friends and when I finally get one, life comes and tells me that we’re leaving!”

“But you don’t know if you’re leaving for sure? I was only being curious.” she said calmly.

“But it’s likely to. If my dad’s truly this stubborn, nothing I say is going to change anything. He’s going to want me out of the way so that he can try and get mum to stay with him. Then what? Everything will get worse because of today! I’ve really fucked up everything with him, and if he ends up staying with my mum, it’ll only get worse for me.” Franc looked worried, but she didn’t take her eyes off of me.

“I’m still here.” She put her hand on my knee. “I won’t make it worse for you. You can come and spend a couple of days at my house here and there. My Dad really likes you, he’d always say yes if he understands what you’re going through.” I only remembered until now that Franc’s parents are split up too. But it was her mum who moved away from them.

“How do you deal with it?” I asked her.

“Deal with what?”

“Your parent’s divorcing. How do you manage living with just your dad?” She blinked slowly and looked past me.

“I,” I don’t think she saw this coming. “I don’t know how to describe it.” I didn’t say anything; I let her find her words for herself. “It gets to some points when I don’t even know who my mother is. She’s been gone for so long, it’s like she’s never existed.”

“What was it like, when they first split?”

“From what I remember, I was crying a lot. And so was dad. I didn’t stop for weeks, especially when it came to the funeral,” my heart dropped, my eyes widened and my head spun. Her mum had died. They didn’t split up. Oh f**k, I’ve never felt so rude in my life. I wanted to apologize but she was still talking. “That was probably the hardest moment of my life. But that was nearly seven years ago. I’ve learnt to accept, and my dad has helped me too. You just have to move on and accept what’s happened. Because you can’t change what’s happened. No one can.”

We both stayed silent for a few minutes. I felt stupid, rude and incredibly offensive. Franc on the other hand seemed to be thinking hard, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was thinking about her mum. I stayed silent.

From what she said, I gathered that she’s dealing with it well; knowing her bubbly personality it gave her a new aspect on life. My father would still exist, he’d still be in the same country, giving that mum wouldn’t move all the way to America or something. But Franc misses her mum. I can’t see myself missing dad. But then living far away and being dead were two completely different things.

She said that her dad has helped her. So, mum and I can be there for each other, we can help each other if we need it and we can move on together. It sounded easy, but I know that it won’t be, mainly for mum though. As much as Franc helped me, and as much as we can link to one another about being away from another parent, her situation was so different from mine I still felt incredibly alone and not aided to any of it.

It reminded me of the poodle story. It was like, I was the poodle, and dad was the man. He just got so angry before, I actually got a bit scared. He might have even attacked me with a knife. I just can’t stop thinking how cruel people on this planet can be, whether they’re decapitating a dog or screaming at their son, I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why that man had the ambition to kill a living thing. I don’t understand why my father had the ambition to kill a living thing, his marriage. Was he trying to end it? Why? None of it really made any sense.

“I’m sorry.” I said eventually, putting my hand on her knee. She smiled back at me with water in her eyes. I had clearly reminded her of something good, something that made her happy, her mother. I just wish I had the ability to do that for someone I love. But I just can’t.

 

It was about five o’clock by the time me and Franc decided to go home. We spent the last two hours talking about school, complaining about the people in it and actually running around. Despite the younger children staring at us with shock (it was either that or they were giving us evil glares for playing on their playground) it was probably the most fun I had had in quite a long time, I didn’t even think about my parents. Well, until now, but it was still nice to run around.

            It was crazy how calm I was when I walked home. Compared to how angry I got on my walk out. I was actually smiling, an odd thing that tends to happen from time to time when something nice happens, your mouth curves upwards and your chest bubbles in delight of remembrance. Can’t say I’ve been too familiar with it the past few months, it’s a tad foreign.

            I was a few hundred meters away from my house, away from that idiot, when my phone vibrated; I quickly pulled it out of my pocket and read who it was.

            ‘New message from: Mum’ what had happened around about now was my heart felt like it released a tone of heat because looking at this felt so important, like something intense was going to happen. I opened the message and read.

            ‘Are you okay? I was just out seeing a friend; I’m on my way home now. Are you there? I’ll see you in about ten minutes.’ She’s on her way. I picked up the pace and turned down my road. At least mum and dad decided to buy a house that wasn’t at the end of the road. Hoping that dad was still there so that mum would get angry, I ran up our footpath and opened the door.

            He wasn’t sitting on the table reading the newspaper; he wasn’t in the kitchen making a drink. I couldn’t spot him. As horrible as it would be if he was, I checked mums room to see if he was there. But he wasn’t. I walked quickly to my room and shut the door. While I took off my shoes and my beanie I sort of felt disappointed. Which in this case is actually a little bit wrong?

            For one thing, I wanted more than anything for the man that I loathe to still be in my house. Why does that sound so odd? Well, I hoped more than anything that he would be here so that mum would flip when she sees him in here. But then she might have actually let him in herself, but then why didn’t she mention it in the text? I’m asking and wishing for way too much. I shouldn’t think about it. Maybe I still have a chance if I tell her that he was here this morning. It seems so silly to be trying to get my parent’s separated, but I’ve got a strong demand for this.

            At that moment, I drowned my thoughts by what I heard from outside my bedroom. The bathroom door opened and the sound of the toilet flushing went through the house.

            “Darn thing,” I heard Blake Kingsley say. Oh god, he’s still here. And he’s breaking my bathroom appliances. Mum will not be pleased, and I’m quite glad.

            “Winter, is that you?” I heard him call out. I didn’t really want to say anything, so I intentionally knocked over a couple of heavy items so he knows that I was in here. And then I heard him get another cup out and start to boil the kettle.

            I kept looking at my cell phone for the time, waiting for mum to park her car in the driveway. Five minutes of waiting felt like half an hour. And then, the most annoying thing happened to me. I really needed to pee. Why must I need to go now when he’s in the lounge, basking in his obnoxious glory? But I guess peeing out the window would worry the neighbours and any passing cars. I guess there wasn’t really a lot of choice in this one.

            As I often do when I’m in a pissy mood, I swung my bedroom door open and marched to the bathroom.

            “Don’t open your door so hard, please.” He called to me as I was half way there. I had to restrain myself from abusing him anymore, but I couldn’t turn down the temptation to slam the bathroom door shut, just to piss him off. I locked the door, lifted up the toilet seat and- Wait; you don’t need to know this…

            So anyway, once I flushed the toilet, I walked over to the sink below the bathroom window and turned on the tap. I almost jumped, mums car was parked in the driveway and she was walking up the path. If you could even call it washing hands, I ran my hands under water for about one second with a small fraction of soap and violently patted them with the towel hanging by the door, and unlocked it.

            As I unlocked the door mum was opening the front.

            “Hello, sweetie.” She smiled at me. I didn’t really give her any reaction back because she was busy staring with confusing at her cheating husband walking slowly towards her. “What are you doing here?” She said, softer and more shocked than before.

            “I came to talk.” He said stopping a few feet in front of her. She turned to me; her eyes were wide like mine, except they were wider with shock.

            “How long has he been here?” She asked me. I dithered. He looked at me too, if I didn’t know any better, he was trying to silently tell me not to tell the truth.

            “All day.” I said. He looked away and back to mum.

            “You’ve been here all day?” He nodded, she wasn’t calming down. “And you decided that you’d have the authority to come in when I’ve asked you to leave?”

            “I just want to talk to you about everything.” He was trying to sound upset. I don’t know about mum, but he was going the right way for a smack in the face.

            “You could’ve sent me a text? You could have rung me for Christ sakes! Winter was still sleeping! And you just decide to make yourself at home?”

            “This is my home.” He replied quickly. “I was the one who bought it.” Oh dear god. He’s trying to act like the hero, how many times have we seen this.

            “No, Blake. We bought it.” Her lips were tightening.

            “China, just listen to me,” he tried to put his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged and took a step back from him.

            “No, I will not listen to you. I will never listen to you; you’re a cheating, sick, twisted man who I thought I could trust! But you’ve proved yourself untrustworthy, so you can get out of my house!” Her voice was trembling, and shaking. She’s never spoken to him like that in her entire life. His wife and his son standing up to him in one day, phew, he must be having an off day.

            “I’m not leaving, until we sort this.” His teeth were gritted. I didn’t dare to move, my heart was racing, I had no idea what was about to happen.

            “I still need time Blake. And until you respect that, you stay away from this property or I’ll call the police.” She stepped back to point him in the direction of the front door.

            “What are they going to do?” He chuckled, “I live here too, and they can’t arrest someone in their own home!”

            “They can if they’re not wanted there!” She yelled.

            “So I’m not wanted in my own home, am I? Wow, what a great family.” He looked at both me and mum, at this point, I’d lost it.

            “DON’T YOU F*****G DARE TALK TO US LIKE THAT!” I screamed. Mum doesn’t like me swearing, but she was still glaring at dad, and I felt that she was going to support anything I said. Francesca was right; me and mum will help each other in difficult times.

            “You ungrateful little s**t,” He said advancing on me, “After everything we’ve done for you, you have the guts to talk to your own father like that.” He was so close to me that our noses almost touched.

            “Get away from him Blake.” Mum said firmly, dropping her bags and walking behind dad. I could feel his breathe on my face, I wanted to go to my room more than anything right now, but I didn’t want to leave mum.

            “If he thinks I’m a useless father, I think it’s about time that I teach him something about RESPECT!” He came so close to me that I stumbled back and hit the wall, a photo of me and dad fell from the wall and shattered. The glass cascaded across the wooden floor as I was edging away. Dad stepped back for a moment and turned to look at mum, she slapped him so hard across the cheek that his entire head spun around and he lost his balance.

            I took this chance to leap from my spot; mum had her hand held out to help me over him as he tried to get up, I ran over the front door where mums bags where and stood there shaking. My legs were shaking so severely I struggled to stand up. Mum was standing in front of me looking at dad as he got up. He had three deep red cuts along his cheek where mum’s nails had ripped the skin. They weren’t bleeding, but looked so sore.

            “Get out.” Mum said; her voice was shaking worse than before. Dad grunted a couple of times.

            “Violence eh?” He said to her, “What a great way to sort out your problems.” He was frowning, at the same time he looked extremely scary, the scariest I’ve ever seen him.

            “Just get out.” Mum said. She was struggling with her hands; I didn’t quite know what she was doing.

            “Who’s going to make me?” At the moment that he said that, it only really struck me that he was drunk. There was a beer bottle he had been drinking out of on the table where he stood, and when he was breathing on me I could almost taste it.

            “I am.” As mum said that, she threw something golden on the ground, it spun like a coin, the sound echoed the silent room and when it landed flat, I realized that she had taken off her wedding ring. She wasn’t going to live the rest of her life with this thing.

            The only thing he did was laugh, and wiggled his left hand at her, which was also missing a wedding ring. Mum bowed her head a little, and then a great sob was let out. When she looked up, her eyes were sparkly and her mouth was shaking, she walked over to the door and pointed at it, too upset for words.

            “I can’t believe I even came here if the only thing I knew was going to happen was a bunch of crap!” he spat. He picked up his empty bottle beer and threw it at me, I tried to duck but the bottom of it hit my head so hard I felt it shatter. I hit the ground and a couple of brown glass shards trickled down my face. My head spun for a moment before it went back into focus, I had a throbbing headache, but as I touched the sore spot with my hands and looked at them, I was relieved to see that there was no blood.

            Mum slammed the door so hard after he left that it made my entire head throb. She sat down next to me as I leaned up and began to cry.

            I didn’t say anything; she didn’t seem to let me stand up. She kept kissing my head, which really didn’t help the headache, but it still felt nice. I wondered what was going to happen now, what on earth was mum going to do? I knew after this moment that she wasn’t going to stay married to him anymore. But when I hoped that she would separate with him, I never thought about what would happen after, but I could sort of sense that that was what mum was thinking about.

            “We’re moving. Far away from here.” She was staring at the lonely, abandoned ring sitting in the middle of the floor.

            “Good.” I replied. I know that this meant moving away from Franc, but it also meant we’d be moving away from Blake Kingsley, the single most disgusting human being I’ve ever come across. It was for the best, and I’m afraid that I’m going to have to admit that and accept it.

            Deep down I now know that this is going to change everything. Everything in my life will be different. School, friends, lifestyle, because no more will we have to move constantly, no more will I have to think about Blake, and no longer will I have to wish that things would change. Because it’s about to, quite drastically.

            

Author's Note

All reviews are much appreciated :)

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A interesting chapter. Hard life for someone with parent separating and moving. I did like the conversation with her friend. I like the internal thoughts and description of life. A excellent chapter.
Coyote