Anxiety and me Part 5: The Bastard

Getting to know the Bastard:  When he would come in, he would Demand I get his pipe or his  cigarettes, his book or his newspaper, and of course a beer. I got so good at it that I usually had everything waiting for him by his favorite chair. Then hopefully he would not talk to me at all until I was sent to bed. I ignored him and tried to stay out of his way.

Age 8-10

By this time, my mother was diagnosed with MS and our little hell hole of a family was going through many changes. The Idiot man decided to go out one night and my mother begged him not to. For once, she let me stay up with her. I usually was sent to bed in the Day light hours, so missed all the television shows the kids at school were talking about. But on this night, I was allowed to sit on the couch and watch television and be quiet. She could still walk then, but did not drive much. She was pacing (in her way) the floor. The phone rang. The Bastard got into a terrible car accident. My mother drove me to her sister’s and I stayed there for about a week. I missed school which upset me terribly, but I had fun with the two youngest cousins playing all day. My mother would call on the phone and tell me that Daddy was hurt real bad but he would be alright. I did not care but answered appropriately because I knew I would be in Big Trouble if I said what I was thinking.  I was eight. The time came for him to come home. I was back in school and she was still working, so I had to See Him and Keep Him Entertained and bring him medicine which was always laid out for me when I came home from school. Gross. He looked like a monster. I was told to sit with him until my mother came home. He would try to talk to me but I had nothing to say, so asked him one day if I could  read to him. He said Yes. I was surprised. I got my latest book, I can’t remember what it was about, and I began to read to him from this book everyday. By the time he was healed and back to work we discovered that we kind of liked each other. When he came home from work, his Little Servant still had everything laid out, but he was nicer to me. He would sometimes buy me a little toy or allow me to stay up and watch a television show. When my birth mother was too ill, I became his co-pilot. We would fly and he would behave himself, instead teaching me all about airplanes.  I began to love him. Sometimes when we would land, he would take me for an ice cream cone. No more guns, screaming, or beatings from him. However, he started having affairs, my mother was still having an affair, and I was exasperated with them both. I was told they were getting a divorce. I did not really care to be Perfectly Honest. I did not like either of them That Much and was hoping that I could Finally go live with my grandparents.  Did Not Happen……

By this time, I was worried about my mother, was she going to die?  Would I see my new found Dad again? Would I have to live with her and her lover?  Would I have to live with my Dad?  I wanted to run away but had no where to go and no one to talk to..I was scared…

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