My life recently has been busy lately… yet not. I haven’t been doing much, yet a sense of normalcy has still returned to my everyday adventures… if you can call them that.
The whole thing with the man who is now my boyfriend was really just me being overly uptight. My dad is fine with it (although I’m not sure how much of that is that he’s across an ocean from me, ugh). I’m not sure how the rest of my family feels, but I don’t think it’s any of their business. He’s sweet, he cares about me, and he’s unbelievably cute, and that’s all that matters to me. He cares about what is going on with me, and that’s more than I can say about most of the male cast in my life so far. I only wish I could touch him.
The last two weeks have sucked weather wise, with minus forty degrees and falling snow shutting down the town. I kept inside pretty much all through our latest cold spat. I’m not a person for cold temperatures and snow, but heavy wind makes it absolutely unbearable for me. I’ve been pretty relaxed other than that, but haven’t done much in the way of homework, I should get on that.
Dad’s work in the town has finished and now the mod crew is moving back into the countryside just outside Sherwood Park. Rather shitty if you ask me, as now he’ll be farther away and no longer will we see him drop in during the daytime. This is bound to start fights because Quade will have to walk since his best friend happened to put his car in the ditch and set it on fire so he has no “ride” to school other than the bus… lazy bastard. That, and he only really ever respects me when Dad is around. It’s painful, sometimes, and I know it’s because of my Asperger’s.
I managed, at some point, to drag my father into one of the crappy restaurants near our house, just the two of us, to talk about all the stuff surrounding Sonya (my mother), him, and Leslie. My knowledge and understand of this is… cumulative, at best. We have talked about that many, many times and each time I understand more. But that talk was different from the others.
That time, I didn’t voice my fears. I didn’t want to drag my dad away, even if having him go to visit Leslie and leave us alone twice a week – a request that is totally reasonable – sets my stomach in knots. See, me and my brother have abandonment issues, to put it bluntly. After the way our parents’ marriage ended, I don’t think that there is even a chance that we could avoid it. So when Dad leaves us alone like that and stays overnight elsewhere, both me and my brother get anxious. Sometimes we fight with each other, other times we sort of just sit and stagnate. We don’t talk.
I don’t really want to be the reason, again, that there are problems between my dad and his childhood friend/girlfriend/first love. Because that’s what she is. What a strangely painful situation, for everyone involved.
But that’s not really what I wanted to talk about.
I asked my father where Leslie was in all that – my parents’ break up, I mean. When Sonya and Dad broke up, there was talk that maybe Leslie had been a part of it – while she is considered close family by Dad, my real family doesn’t like her very much. Dad says that our family is full of fools and hypochondriacs… but isn’t Leslie a fool too? I don’t know. I am still confused about the situation between them and her.
But my father told me that night that while she was his first girlfriend, and his first love (although, until then, I’d heard nothing about it… maybe that was just me), he told me, rather reluctantly – and I think that he did so not knowing what I was really asking – that Leslie and her husband breaking up a little before Sonya and my Dad was completely a coincidence, and that they came together because of their shared experiences. That put me a bit more… at ease. Just a little bit. I already have to deal with the crazy mother spiel, I admit that I’m reluctant to take on the “my father cheated and I still like him” one too.
But the real thing was that he said she is metamorphosing. She’s becoming an older woman, with her menopause and all, and basically she’s “finding herself” again at almost fifty (my father will be fifty soon… wow). This one is a bit harder for me to believe, but I’m trying as hard as I can. Her lack of patience, the way she sees everything offensive and negative, her selfishness… I’m reluctant to contribute it just to menopause. Yet I can’t explain it myself. When I wonder why she does the things she does, I almost always come up blank. I don’t understand her at all. Maybe my Dad is right? He’s never lied to me after all.
But I feel like things are starting to come together for me. Little by little. Maybe someday I’ll really know why things went the way they did… but I need to understand it first. I don’t think I truly do yet.