Success Story

2.

You know those memories that just stick with you? Well one of mine would probably be the day that Dad just left me at a pre-school for the first time when I was three. It's not my oldest memory, but probably one of them and I remember it in scary detail. It was early September 2006 and Dad walked me to that small red-brick building in Leeds that I would be spending the next three years at. 

It was ideal for him, I mean, it was on the way to his university and he only had to walk with me for about three minutes before he found my grandparents new replacement and left me with them, to supposedly "have a good day".

Good day? Good day?! My days at that school were the pits: they couldn't have been worse. Not because of what we did, but because of the people. Not the staff so much - they were alright - but the kids, the other kids. They were horrible. It was just the way that they stared as Dad escorted me into that room smelling of talcum powder and baby sick. 

Dad left quickly. Pretty much straight after he'd pointed me out. Maybe because of the stench, maybe because of the clashing colours, or maybe because I was in that godforsaken room and as far as he was concerned, my presence was a curse, not the blessing most parents get. As soon as he was gone, I weirdly found myself missing him and spent most of the day inside the book corner bawling my eyes out. 

Funny how I still don't remember how I felt when he picked me up that afternoon. Wouldn't entirely surprise me if I found out that he hadn't picked me up at all and left my for the teacher to take home.

Wait, no, that was my first day of year three... and after my French exchange in year eleven... and after Awards Evening in year 7... and, never mind. The list goes on for far too long. 

Was anything good about 2006? Oh yeah, Ralph. He was alright. He became my replacement Fran, mostly because he could bake cookies. Occasionally he had to pick me up from school, and I remember him being there the second the bell went and we all rushed out like a tidal wave. He grabbed me and picked me up in a hug and whirled me round in circles, before nearly breaking his back. 

Damn, Ralph was great.

Oh, I also remember the evening that Ralph had a date. He politely asked Dad to take me out the same evening so that the girl didn't get the "wrong impression". Dad paled, realizing he had to spend time with me for a whole evening! 

With pursed lips, he took me to KFC and spent the whole evening looking like he wanted to pull the trigger next to his head. What he didn't prepare for though was how tired little kids get under harsh white KFC lights hours past their bedtime. When I started screaming and running around in a state of overtiredness, he desperately got his phone out and dialled for Ralph. When it went through to voicemail, he sighed and pursed his lips again, before grabbing me and picking me up.

I was stunned; I didn't even know Dad could lift me up. 

I must've fallen asleep in Dad's arms, because the next thing I know, I'm lying on my bed fully clothed listening to three voices having one massive argument in the kitchen. I tiptoed through to see Dad gesturing animatedly at Ralph and this blonde girl who I didn't recognize. They all turned to face me in unison and I saw Dad take that slow breath he always took when he saw me, as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. 

"This isn't over," He whispered threateningly to Ralph who defensively had his arm around that girl's shoulders. He marched over to me and pushed me back to my room. I got changed with him waiting to hang my clothes up and brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. He whispered "Goodnight" before he flicked the lights out and closed the door. 

It took me years to work out about that girl being Dad's ex-girlfriend. That's why he was so mad at Ralph. One thing I did notice, was suddenly Ralph never picked me up from school anymore, and so I sat in the often wet playground in the October drizzle waiting for that being I call my father to pick me up. 

The day I left Leeds was probably the best day of my life... but unfortunately I had to endure another two and a half years there, and they only got progressively worse. Especially school, especially year one. 

Even though Dad struggled socially, he always assured me he had friends. If I hadn't worked out that was a lie, I would've said he didn't understand.

But boy, we were similar.