Octavia (Completed - 2018 Watty's Longlist)

Chapter Three - Edmund

Present Day

As a child, I acted mature for my age. I was the most mature kid in my class. I listened to the teachers, I completed my homework, I got good grades and I was a well behaved. The other kids in my class would tease me. But I couldn't help it, it was how I was brought up.
My Dad was a policeman. He was strict and had many rules. I followed those rules and made sure I never disappointed him. I let him ruin my childhood that was supposed to be full of fun and where I would go on adventures with my friends. But instead, I spent my time in my room, studying, reading and being alone.

I was the only quiet one in the house. Well, only because I was the only one not yelling. My parents were the ones yelling. Fighting would probably be a more fitting word. They fought all the time. Only because my Dad was a policeman and he was hardly home because he would do night shifts and then be sleeping all day. I hardly saw him when I was growing up in Seattle.
I hardly even saw him when I visited him in the holidays. He would try to get off work, but sometimes he just couldn't.
Back then, I understood why my Mom left him. But I always wish there could have been a way for them to stay together.

I remember that day. It was after school when I got home and was excited to tell my Dad that I got an A on my maths exam. I had trouble with maths, so I studied extra hard for it.
But when I got home, my Mom was sitting in the lounge room, surrounded by bags of clothes and moving boxes. That was when my Mom got custody of me and moved us to California.

I don't really understand though, why my Dad didn't fight for me. He just let my Mom take me. I know he wanted me and that he loved me but it still hurt. He told me that my Mom needed me the most. That I could help her the most.
But what did that mean?
How could I help her?

She would drink all day. Dad would come home late at night from work, she'd be drunk off her ass and would pick a fight about anything with Dad.
I did feel sorry for him. He worked his butt off just to keep this family going. He was the one paying our bills, feeding us. He didn't make my Mom work.
My Mom was the one who always started it. She would pick the fight and my Dad would just stand there and take it and wait for her to stop. He knew that all of the things she was saying was true. I mean she was drunk. She never knew what she was saying though.
My Dad did try to keep their relationship strong. He would even take Mom out sometimes on the weekend when he wasn't working, besides the fact that he was exhausted.

Dad did try. He didn't like seeing Mom like that. He wanted her to be happy.
So when she trialled for divorce, he just accepted whatever she wanted. Even her taking me. He just wanted her to be happy. Even if it meant Mom getting me, his only child. And he knew that I would at least keep her stable enough. That I could, as I got older, be there to help her.
So that was another thing I had to grow up too fast for. I had to be there for my Mom. I had to cook dinner unless I wanted to go hungry. I would cook hers too, though she wouldn't eat much.
I would go food shopping at the age of nine. I would do all the dirty washing, clean the house and basically be an adult. I would take care of her in the morning before I went to school and then when I got home I would be at it again. And so when my bed time came, past 10:00, I would fit in my homework and be up till morning finishing it all.
I had to be there for my Mom. It's what my Dad wanted. I didn't want to disappoint him.

As time went on, and I got older, Mom stopped drinking - not completely but she got better. She became happier towards the end. At least, I hope she did.

When I would go up to Seattle for two weeks in the summer, I would get my next door neighbour Grace to look after her. Grace was a nice old lady. She was always smiling, which I think helped Mom a lot.
Grace and her husband, Ben, have lived next door to us ever since we moved there. They were such nice people.