My father was a bastard!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
I met a girl from my past who asked about the death of my mother.

Submitted: September 27, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 27, 2012



I was living by myself. I was in a flat that I had previously shared with my girlfriend for two years. She decided we weren’t right for each, so she left me. I was alone. I was depressed. I was drinking way too much.

One Saturday, a couple of weeks after she’d left, I bumped into my neighbour as I was coming home with some beer supplies.

As she walked passed and I got a look at her close up I thought she had looked familiar to me but I wasn’t sure if I knew her or not. Was my mind just playing tricks?

I kept walking towards the front door of my flat.

I took another look and she was standing staring at me.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

She nodded her head. There was a silence as I stared at her dumbfounded.

Something flickered in my memory bank but not enough to spark any recall. Again for a brief second there was something but as quickly as it came it was gone.

Damn, who was she? Did I really know her? Where did I know her from?

I just couldn’t place her face. I looked harder at her, as if that might do the trick. I even squinted, perhaps that was the answer. She was blonde, slim to the point of being anorexic, well stacked and pretty.

Nope, still nothing.

She must have waited long enough and when it was obvious that I had no idea, she decided to help.

“Blenheim High”, was all she said.

Still there was no recognition from me.

She shrugged her shoulders, shook her head and walked a way.

“Blenheim High?” I repeated. My mind started running through faces of girls from Blenheim High. Six years of girls, six years of faces. It was a few years ago and people do change. Shit just look at me I wasn’t recognisable from the guy who left high school four years earlier.

From the dark recesses I started picturing the faces of the girls I had known or seen at Blenheim High. One by one they paraded through but it was so long ago some of the pictures were grainy and some faded.

Whirrrrr…No Match, No Match, No Match, No Match. Shit, still nothing.

I couldn’t place her. My ‘faces’ database seemingly had brought up a blank and thinking about was using up valuable drinking time..

After she disappeared up the stairwell I turned, finished unlocking my door, entered and slumped onto my couch. The slab of beer I carried in was getting warmer by the second but the fridge could wait. I busted a stubby out of its packaging, popped the top and almost drained the entire contents with my first drink.

I stared at the remaining fluid in the stubby and then drained that as well.

I took a fresh one from the box, placed it on the coffee table and took the remainder of the slab into the kitchen and put the beer into the fridge. I grabbed a packet of Salt ‘n’ Vinegar chips from the cupboard. This’ll be my dinner then, chips and beer.

I returned to the couch, busted open the chip bag and scooped a handful and stuck them in my mouth. I added a large mouthful of beer as well and swirled it around. Not a bad entrée.

I sat back and considered my earlier encounter with the blonde.

Blenheim High? But who was she? Was she from my year, or from a year below me?

She didn’t look older than me so I cancelled the girls who were in the years ahead of me off the search list.

I thought about her standing and staring at me. Long blonde hair, fair skin, cute smile and a great set of jugs. And then there was the sight of her butt as she was walking away from me. A great arse in tight blue jeans. And those jugs, shit, why did I not remember those?

I scooped another handful of chips, shoved them in my mouth and had another swig of beer to wash the chips down.

As I sat trying to remember who she might be, my thoughts turned Di, my ex-girlfriend. I wondered what she was doing. I wondered if she was already banging someone. Bitch.

It better not be with one of my arsehole mates. They always hung around her like moths to a flame. She had something and most of my mates wanted it. Not one of them was upset when we broke up.

It had been a while since I last saw her. She had stopped all contact with me. Bitch.

I drained my second beer and pondered whether I should get a bucket, fill it with ice and a few beers and put that beside the couch to save me wandering back and forth to the fridge. Trouble was I didn’t have a bucket, and there was no ice because I didn’t have an ice cube tray.

There was a knock on my door.

I looked at it. I didn’t get up but tried to use my x-ray vision to look through the door. No good my eyes weren’t working. Must have been dulled by the beer.

I finally stood up and walked to the door. I opened it just enough to peer through to see it was the girl from before standing on my doorstep.

She smiled and I saw she was holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Mind if I come in? I’ve got this to share” and she lifted the bottle up for my inspection.

I looked at her for a second and then stood back to allow her to come in. I motioned for he to go to the couch. As she walked in she looked around. I saw the look of disapproval on her face at the state of the lounge room.

“Maid stop coming then?” she asked.

I nodded, ”Yep, she’s not coming back”

Undeterred she pushed the paper and jumper to one side and sat down.

She placed the glasses on the coffee table and held the bottle up towards me.

“Do you have a corkscrew?” she asked as she offered the end of her wine bottle to him.

“Um, no, no I don’t….” and then I thought for a second and said “I normally just push the cork in with a knife end …I’ll get one.”

I returned from the kitchen with a knife and a fresh stubbie. I used the handle end of the knife to push the cork into the bottle and poured her a glass.

“Are you not having one?” she asked and took a drink from her glass.

“Um..I’ll stick to beer at the moment” lifted my fresh stubbie and took a swig.

I sat down and looked at her. There was something familiar but about her but I was no closer to figuring out her name. Up close I could see her freckles. She also had a busted tooth which was exposed when she smiled. These things didn’t help identifying her though.

She smiled at me and shook her head. “Still don’t know who I am?”

I shrugged, “Sorry to say my memory must be playing tricks on me as I haven’t got the foggiest idea”

“Vicki…..” she said and looked wide eyed waiting for me to get the connection.

“Vicki Kavanagh…”

Bang that was a hit…I did remember a Vicki Kavanagh from high school but……

I looked again and tried to reconcile this girl Vicki in front of me with the image of the Vicki that I had in my memory bank from my high school days. But it was no match.

I shook my head, “Nah you can’t be, the Vicki I remember was a fat heif….” I stopped myself before I finished what I was going to say. I looked at her eyes. Yes they were familiar but the rest of the package wasn’t.

She frowned and said “What were you going to say?”

“I’m sorry but the Vicki I remember was a bit bigger…boned…. than you are”

“Yes…I know,” she said a little indignantly.

“'re…. thin……… almost anorexic?” I said.

“I’ve lost 42 kilos. I’ve got a few stretch marks on my bum and boobs but since I left high school I’ve been dieting and working out.”

“Shit, if you don’t mind me saying, you may have gone a little too far, you need some meat on your bones.”

“Guys don’t like fat girls, it’s a proven fact. They want thin models.”

“Not all guys are like that. Some like something to grab on to as well.” I offered.

“What about you…what do you like?”

“Well..” I looked up at a picture of a girl on the wall.

Vicki’s eyes followed mined and looked at the picture as well.

“Well she’s slender, so I proved my point!”

“But..” I tried to explain.

“But nothing, I saw you staring at me when we bumped into each other before. If I was still fat like I was in high school you wouldn’t have had a second or third look like you did. You would have ignored me like everyone used to do. Right or wrong?”

“Look, you may be right, I don’t know if I would have ignored you or not…but in my defence; ‘a’ I am ignoring everyone at the moment and ‘b’ there was something familiar about you and that is why I had a second and third look” which was partially true, but by god she did have a huge rack and a great arse so it did call for a couple of looks.

“Why are you ignoring people at the moment?”

“Don’t want to talk about it other than to say I recently broke up with my girlfriend and it’s still all a bit raw.”

“Is that why this place looks and smells like a pig sty?”

“Probably some of the reason…”

She looked around the room.

“I was going to clean up tomorrow” I said.

“Do you need a hand?” she asked.

I looked at her.

“I can help if you want. Do you have a vacuum?”

“It’s okay it won’t take me long” I then poured her another glass of the wine.

“When did you break up?”

“About two weeks ago, and I don’t want to talk about it.” I said a little firmer so she’d get the point; that I didn’t want to talk about it.

“Okay” she said and shrugged.

“Can you open a window or the door? It is a little ‘close’ in here. You need to air the place.” she said and waved her hand in front of her face moving the air about.

I looked at her. I stood up and opened a window. I walked to the bathroom grabbed the air freshener and shut the bathroom door behind me and sprayed the air freshener about.

“Well that’s better” she said sarcastically, “”it now smells like lavender shit around here.”

“You can piss off it you want? I was quite happy here by myself before you came knocking”

“You did invite me in” she said.

“Could have been a mistake.” I ventured.

“You just confirmed my theory, if I was fat you wouldn’t have invited me in….but being slender and with these” she cupped her rather large breasts and jiggled them up and down, “doors open!”.

“Fuck me, you are pushy. You were fat, now you’re skinny, get over it” I snarled and shook my head, “look I’m not in the mood for this shit, just go will you”.

I turned my head away from her and looked at the blank television screen.

“Sorry, I don’t know why but I get a little pissed off at people sometimes. When I was fat no one wanted to know me, now I’m skinny, guys just can’t get enough of me but they just want one thing. I was never happy when I was fat, and I don’t seem to be any happier now that I’m thin. Does that make any sense?”

“You’re asking the wrong the guy..I don’t really give a fuck about anything at the moment and I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re happy or not!”

“You really are just an arsehole aren’t you? Any wonder your girlfriend left if that’s how you spoke to her” she responded matter-of-factly.

I turned to look at her and glared.

Undeterred at my look she continued. “I was obviously wrong about you. I thought you were okay in high school. You did hang around with that group who were snobs and wouldn’t give me the time of day, they treated me like I was a nothing, but at least you acknowledged me, you at least looked at me and said hello. The rest of those shits didn’t even know I existed.”

I shook my head. I’d heard enough of her babbling and decided I’d wasted enough time, “The doors there,” I said and pointed at the front door, “shut it on your way out.”

“Why… are.. you… such… an… arsehole? I’m here trying to be friendly and you are being a prick. So you broke up with your girlfriend, get over it. Moping about won’t bring her back.”

“Did I not make myself clear?” I said and stared at her. “Goodbye.”

She looked at me but didn’t budge. She picked up her glass and had a drink.

“I’m not moving until I finish my drink. You can either be sociable or sit there like an arsehole and wallow in self pity if you like.”

I stood and went and got another two stubbies from the fridge.

When I sat down she started babbling again.

“Do you remember Lynne Armstrong, I think you went out with her for a while? She was a total bitch. Well she married that really nice guy Ross Anderson, do you remember him? I had a crush on him but like a lot of people he didn’t know I existed.”

“I think they’ve got a couple of kids and live in the country somewhere.” she added.

“Look whatever, I’m not interested in that shit” I said shaking my head.

She chatted away with more mindless dribble and continued to drink some more.

After she’d gotten through the wine she started on a stubbie. It must have been more than she’d drunk for a long time and he could tell that she was well on her way to being drunk as her speech was beginning to slur.

They sat for a while and then the enivitable happened.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother. It must have been terrible time for you”

Memories came flooding back; memories that he struggled, at times, to suppress.

“Is your dad….is he….” she didn’t know how to finish.

“He’s locked away. I haven’t seen him for about five years, not since the trial.”

“Is he in pris..”

“He is in a high risk care facility, you could call it a gaol for the mentally ill…..he’s insane, he’ll never be released. Shouldn’t be released ever..”

“It must have been shocking for you to find your mother like that…”

I stared at the blank screen of the television again only this time it was playing a home movie. A movie being projected by my own mind. It was playing the same reality show that had played over and over again in my head days and weeks after the death of my mother. It was the same show that played occasionally at night when he lay in bed and couldn’t sleep.

It played the same reel over and over; the same show on repeat. It played just as he’d seen it. Through his eyes, the day he found his mother.

Vicki looked at him from side on but could see he was staring at the blank T.V. screen. He blinked slowly and a tear rolled down his right cheek.

He began talking and she was unsure if he was talking to her or talking to himself.

“I entered my house as I had done a hundred times before. I was always scared as I didn’t know what mood he’d be in.”

“Sometimes you could sense it in the air, sometimes he tricked you. He’d be pleasant and without warning he’d lose it with you.”

“When he was violent I usually ran. Ran to the park or ran somewhere I would be safe.”

“I was weak, a real coward. I would leave mum alone with him. She would cop it all, while I would hide.”

“Your mum put up with a lot.” Vicki added.

“She loved him or so she told me she did.”

“I couldn’t understand how could you love someone who treated you badly over and over again?”

“So what happened?” she asked, intrigued wanting to hear more.

“That day was no different than any other.”

“I walked in as quietly as I could. I didn’t want to be seen by him just in case.”

“He was sitting in his chair. He had a bottle of beer in his hands and was staring at nothing. He didn’t turn around when I entered. I was thankful at first.”

“So I didn’t see it at first because I was too scared to make eye contact or look in his direction. The littlest things could and would, set him off.”

“As I went to go to my bedroom he called my name.”

“I froze in terror.”

“I was going to run but I couldn’t move.”

“Alex he yelled at me….Alex your mother’s not well.”

“Then I turned and looked at him.”

“That’s when I saw his shirt.”

“I saw his hand on the bottle of beer.”

“I saw his face.”

“He was actually crying. I had never seen my father cry once in my life.”

“Not when he was belting me.”

“Not when he was belting mum.”

“Not during, not after. He never cried.”

“What did you see? What was on his face?” Vicki hesitantly asked not wanting to break in but wanting more details.

She looked at him but he didn’t turn around to her voice. He was in the zone. He was telling it as he saw it. As he saw it on his blank television. Through his eyes. As he’d seen it that day.

“He was covered in blood. His shirt, his hands, his arms.”

“There was blood smudged on his face. I could see scratch marks down his left cheek.”

“I looked round the house for mum.”

“I finally found her in the bathroom.”

Vicki watched as he shook his head from side to side and closed his eyes. More tears followed the first one down his cheek.

He slowly continued.

“She was a mess.”

“He had stabbed her so many times. I think they said over 100 times at his trial. The knife was still in her chest.”

“He had brutally attacked her. If he loved her how could he have done that to her?”

“There was a corkscrew sticking in her eye socket which he’d jammed in there.”

“I didn’t check to see if she was still alive. She couldn’t have been. There was so much blood. Her lips were blue.”

“I went to my room and got my cricket bat.”

“I walked back into the lounge room and stood in front of him.”

“He looked up at me but didn’t move. He saw I was holding the cricket bat but he didn’t move.”

“I was shaking all over. I don’t know if it was from fear or from rage or a mixture of both but I was shaing like it was 30 below zero and I was standing in the nude.”

“I swung the bat at his head as hard as I could.”

“He just stared at me and didn’t move.”

“That bat hit him so hard, fair and square on the side of his head.”

“The noise of his skull cracking has never left me.”

“I thought he was dead. I had hoped he was dead.”

“Why did he do it? Do you know why?” she asked.

“When I saw him in hospital, when he was recovering from the crushed skull. I asked him why he did it.”

“He told me that she had been complaining about his drinking for weeks.”

“She had complained that day but he didn’t listen. He needed his drink he said.”

“It was late that afternoon they’d had words again about his drinking. She told him she’d had enough and was leaving him and he snapped.”

“He told me couldn’t live without her. He had just lost it.”

“He was in the kitchen opening a bottle of beer. He had the bottle opener corkscrew thingy in his hand and when she said she was leaving him he turned and lunged at her with it.”

“The twirly part went into her eye socket.”

“She began to scream and she scratched him on the face. He picked up a knife and stabbed her to shut her up.”

“She tried to get away and he chased her down.”

“She got to the bathroom and he kept plunging and plunging and plunging the knife into her.”

“She fell into the bath and he continued stabbing her until she stopped screaming at him.”

“He then went and drank his beer.”

“Sat in his chair and drank his fucking beer.”

“I was always scared of him.”

“Mum said he wasn’t always like that. It was the drink.”

“He couldn’t handle the drink.”

“I never knew him as being any different.”

“He was a drunken arsehole and a wife beater.”

“He scared me so much….”

Vicki looked at him and he was crying.

“He killed her and I know if I had have been there I would have run like a girl. Run away as quickly as my legs would have taken me.”

“I couldn’t help my mum. I wouldn’t have been able to protect her.”

“Bastard…he was a fucking bastard.”

She watched as Alex threw the stubbie he was holding at the T.V. It hit the screen. The stubbie and T.V. screen shattered together. There was a flash of light and smoke puffed out of the T.V.

He dropped his head into his hands and cried.

She wanted to console him but she needed to pee desperately.

As he sobbed in his seat, she wandered to the bathroom.

She opened the door and entered the bathroom only to be confronted by a terrible smell.

She looked in the bath and screamed.

She was confronted by a horrible mess. Vicki could see a corkscrew sticking out of the corpse’s eye socket. The handle of a knife protruded from the breast of the body. She vomited and her bladder let go.

Vicki heard a noise behind her and looked around. Alex was standing behind her.

“She said she was leaving me. I couldn’t live without her.”

Vicki saw the flash of steel too late.

© Copyright 2020 Tosca. All rights reserved.

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