Confessions of a Bitch

Problems

I first met dad at Target whilst looking at some Barbie dolls to decapitate. You see, mum and I, had gotten into a small fight at Coles over a piece of ham (stupid, I know,) and I ran off to Target. But of course she didn’t know that. Where would the fun be if she knew where to find me? Dad caught my attention instantly, not only because he was at the toy section, but was wearing a hot pink tie. I actually thought he was gay. He noticed me gawking at him and said, “You know kiddo, it’s rude to stare.”

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” I retorted. I couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the look on his face. He hadn’t been expecting that.

It took him thirty seconds to come up with a comeback, “Didn’t your mum teach you that?”

“No.”

He gave a small smile before stretching out his left hand, “Mike.”

I took his hand and shook it, “Amanda.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s horrible to meet you too.”

He burst out laughing when I said that. “So what are you doing here?”

“No, what are you doing here?” I asked as I eyed the Baby Born on his right arm.

“I’m shopping for Christmas presents.” He replied.

“Get the girl a Barbie doll. It’s easier to unscrew or cut off their heads.” I think at that moment, he thought I was a budding sociopath or psychopath. I’ve honestly got to learn the difference. Well, whatever he was about to say was lost in the high pitched squeal that came next from my mother’s mouth. I couldn’t help but drop my shoulders. I was hoping she’d never find me.

“Amanda!” She screamed in an over dramatic way as she ran towards me. I quickly held my breath as she hugged me and dropped me to the floor along with her. “Don’t you ever do that again! You had me worried sick!” I was about to tell her getting smoked ham was a great idea when her eyes darkened. “Who are you and what are you looking at?” It was then I realized she was talking to Mike.

“I’m just Christmas shopping.” He replied smoothly with a small smile. I frowned. There was no way he could find mum attractive. She looked like she just came from the dumpster.

“You’re not from Social Services are you? Because I swear on my favorite chicken pie that if you are, you’re not going to live to see Christmas!” She roared. We received a number of stares and glares from the people in the shop. I just kept on looking at Barbie dolls. I finally found one I could decapitate when mum decided it was time to drag me out of the store.

I was a little bit sad. After all, I just made a friend. Technically it wasn’t a friendship. It only lasted for thirty eight seconds. I thought that would be the last I saw of him until two weeks later when the door bell rang as mum and I were making some waffles for breakfast. Mum was dressed in her poo green pyjamas and a tank top. She had bags under her eyes and her hair was going in different directions. She scowled, wondering who the person at the door could be. Swearing under her breath, she answered it. I thought it was the mail man, but then remembered mail men didn’t deliver the post on Saturdays.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing at my house?” The sound of mum’s yelling had me thinking it was one of those Jehovah witnesses’ people that always harassed us. However, that all changed when I heard his voice. Without thinking, I dashed to the front door and wedged myself at my mother’s side.

It couldn’t be him, but it was.

Mike, my thirty eight second friend was standing outside my front door with… flowers? Mind you, I still thought he was gay.

“Hi,” He said with a smile, again. “I was wondering if I could come inside.”

“No!” Mum bellowed.

“Yes!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. Mum forcibly pushed me inside and slammed the door at his face. “What did you do that for?”

Mum turned around and raised her eyebrows. “He’s probably a pedophile or from Social Services.”She said, before returning back to making the waffles. I parted the blinds and watched him leave. It wasn’t until Monday; I noticed a small business card poking out of the side of the net door. I carefully took it and hid it in my pocket away from mum’s prying eyes. I called Mike later that night and we had a lovely conversation about Barbie dolls and of course, we talked about mum. Not to mention the fact he made it clear he wasn’t gay.  He just liked the hot pink tie.

We came up with plans to make mum fall head over heels in love with him, and luckily for us, our first one worked.

I decided to take mum out for dinner, using her money because I didn’t have a job. What ten year old in Australia has a job anyway? We decided to go to an Indian restaurant near the vintage shop beside the foreshore. As we finished ordering, Mike walked in. Mum’s back was facing the front door, so she didn’t see him.

But I did.

I beamed and called him over. Mum paled and then turned red with rage. Her eyes said, “You’re grounded for the next twenty five years.” Honestly, I didn’t get why she hated him. I smiled with glee as Mike sat beside me while mum slowly turned into a beetroot.

“Hello.” He said, trying to be friendly to mum. Mum’s mouth opened and I was scared she’d do or say something stupid. After all, we were in public. Instead, she didn’t reply. She gave Mike the silent treatment for the rest of the night. After dinner, before mum could pull me out of the restaurant, I made a quick dash to the toilet and stayed inside the disgusting cubicle for as long as I could. After holding my breath and gagging for over fifteen minutes, I stumbled out of the toilet, making a mental note to never ever enter the toilets in an Indian restaurant, to find mum and Mike engaging in quite an interesting conversation. Mum was twirling her hair and acting all giddy around him, so it had to be a good conversation.  And that was the beginning of their relationship. A year later, they were married. Dad wore his hot pink tie on the wedding day.

*****

Driving home after receiving the text message is nothing short of a nightmare. Ideas fly through my head on what could have happened to make mum send me a text in capital letters. She never sends me texts with capital letters! I hurriedly park my car in the driveway and unlock the door, dreading what awaits me when I set my food inside. I throw the door open and dash inside the house, ready to scream bloody murder, when I stop dead in my tracks.

The place looks spotless, and smells like… roast?

“Mum? Dad?” I call out as I lock the door behind me.

Mum pokes her head out of the kitchen, “Hello honey. Welcome home. Your dad and I are just about having dinner.” Dad appears behind her with a dishcloth in his hand. A smile is plastered on both their faces and it pisses me off. Mum’s text message had left me reeling and made me exit Victoria’s place without saying goodbye and almost crapping myself, trying not to freak out as I rushed home.

I thought something bad had happened. I thought the “Viper” stalker had somehow gotten to them. But no. It was a call for dinner. Thinking about it makes me sick. “I’m not hungry,” I reply.

“What do you mean you’re not hungry?” Dad asks as I begin heading to my bedroom. I don’t reply as I slam the door shut and lock it. I throw my bag on the bed before heading to the bathroom and emptying all the contents of my stomach into the toilet. When there’s nothing left to cough up, apart from acid, I slump on the floor breathing hard. As I begin thinking things through, the realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

For the first time in years, I’m slowly beginning to lose it.

I’m becoming weak.