Forever Tainted

“Skip is MIA,” He says to me on the phone, “Perhaps tomorrow I’ll see him and I’m sure he’ll give you a call.”

Skip is my brother’s father. He’s the man who raised me from the time I was 2, until I turned 12 or 13. He is an alcoholic, and that’s an understatement. If it’s there, Skip is willing to take it, whether it’s a drink, a pill, a needle, or a pipe. In his mid fifties, he’s already had a number of strokes and most recently there was a black, potentially cancerous spot found on his lung. None of it changes him. And under it all, the man has a heart of gold. He spent the majority of my first few months back here, apologizing and asking me for forgiveness for the childhood he allowed me to have. I had forgiven him before he even asked.

So it came as a shock that when the boy Skip initially introduced me to, threw me out so suddenly, Skip took his side over mine; refusing to talk to me. I literally told Skip to fuck right off and swore he wouldn’t hear from me until he was willing to offer an apology. Last week he mentioned me to a few friends. He said he’d tried to call but I’d changed my number, and asked them to have me call him. I tried, three times with no response.

So yesterday I wasn’t shocked to hear he was missing. It’s not abnormal for Skip to go missing for a few days in a row. I was shocked after that call when I spoke to my father and he said he’d seen my mom pissed drunk before noon, sitting outside the house with some guy and a case of beer. The guy he described could have been none other than Skip himself. Looks like my mom’s taking a step back more than 15 years in time. Just when you think things can’t get worse, there seems to be away.

Don’t get me wrong, I love both Skip and my mom. I hate the idea of them getting back together. My mom has been so much better than this for so many years it hurts to see her heading right back there now.

Other than this, life seems to be moving smoothly for me. I got myself a kitten and named him TwoSix. He’s a pain in the ass, but I love him just the same. It’s getting fucking cold here, and it’ll be nice for me to come home after work to warm house with a little one waiting for me. I have a second cat on the way. My niece’s cat had kittens a while back, and I’d already claimed mine when I took in TwoSix from some strange man standing outside the supermarket, threatening to leave him on the streets if I didn’t take him home. Soon, I’ll have a happy little family in my doll house.

May you all have a wonderful Eid.

I woke up this morning feeling down. It’s the first time I’ve felt like this since I got here and I’m not really sure what to make of it. I’ve worn myself these last few weeks, in particular, these last few days have been rough. Not only did I start working full 8 hour shifts, but I stupidly pulled an all-nighter on the first of my nights off, with a Breast Cancer Garage Sale Benefit to take part in the following morning. I managed through that, selling my jewellery with a smile on my face; the proceeds of which made up for a large portion of the charitable profits. That evening I had a house guest come and he only left yesterday morning as I was off to work at 6am.

Last night was the first full nights’ sleep I’ve had for about 4 days. I woke up this morning without an alarm, and I sit now with my coffee listening to the children giggle, as they walk by on their way to school. The sun is shining and the air is crisp. I’ve taken my vitamins, and I don’t work until 3pm this afternoon so I have ample time to clean my house and get a few odds and ends done. I have no real reason for feeling as crappy as I do.

My father is planning on coming out here for a visit soon. He and my mother are still in the process of separating, though my mother has once again taken a spin for the worst. She had taken a minimum wage job at some dollar store only to lose it with her first paycheque – with money for alcohol, who wants to go to work? From what I understand her lawyer is on the verge of dropping her since, who the hell can represent a crazy person who is incoherent enough when she’s strait, when she’s perpetually drunk? I’m so tired of the whole situation and I wish it would all just go back to the way it was in Dubai, when my mom was normal and my parents got along brilliantly. It’s heartbreaking really.

I have little other than that to share right now. Perhaps as the day moves on, I’ll start to feel a little better, since really there’s nothing stopping me excepting me.

I was woken last night just after 1am to the sound a train thundering through my yard. The tracks are just a few feet beyond my fence, and every time the train goes by my whole house shakes, like a mini earthquake interrupted only by the sound of the trains whistle blowing. It sucks. My first few nights here the last train on the day seemed to go by at 9.40pm – which totally isn’t a problem. But for two days now they have been creeping up into the wee hours of the morning. The night before last, it was 11.30, and last night quarter past 1. If a train goes by at 3am tonight, I think I’m going to wake up crying.

But seeing how the time of the train is my only real stress around here so far, I really shouldn’t complain. I’ve moved into my own place. It’s a dollhouse. Actually, as the landlord explained, she initially built it for her children as a playhouse but accidently built it too big for that. She then decided to add a bathroom and half kitchen and rent it out. It’s a tiny little cabin with a loft upstairs. It’s perfect for the little girl that I am, and will be even better when I get my python back and keep him as the guard-pet!

Life is treating me real well. I haven’t had a lot of time for the net lately, thus the lack of posts or entertaining stories shared. I would like to wish all a Happy Ramadhan, forgive me for being late.