Just as it had been every time that he spoke, he could not contain the tremble of fear in his voice. All of the time that he remember what he had seen growing up, repeating constantly to himself, “I will never be like them”. He was outraged that he could even start to feel such rage. A deep set feeling he seemed to get whenever he was in an argument, followed quickly by a feeling of deep guilt and resentment. An argument he had with himself when he went out to the bar after a long day at work. He could always recall his parents drinking themselves to death every sunday afternoon.
Carl had just turned 30, his birthday was over it was 12am and he could not excuse himself for not being with his wife. However on this occasion he couldn’t help but remember every single detail of his life growing up under the “care” of his parents. Flashbacks started to pour into his mind at an alarming rate. Going so rapidly that his head started to spin.
He was just turning six years old, it was a very cold winter night. They had lived in a small “city” as the residents called it. Down in southwestern Ontario, Canada. Surrounded by nothing except farms and highways leading to bigger and better places. He was born and raised in this place that he couldn’t imagine ever having the opportunity to escape. Sure, he had his Grandparents, his Aunt and Uncle, and their children to confide in. At the time he was far too young to understand the dynamic of the situation that he lived in day to day. He had a vision of his family being a picturesque, magazine cover family. He seemed to want to defend his parents. “They’re just angry, it’s only a fight”, He always said outloud.
The entire day was a blank, and he had seemed to have forgotten everything of little importance. He just assumed that the weekend would be great. It was his favourite time of the year, and there was enough snow on the ground for his Dad to pull him in his favourite wooden sleigh. They partook on a walk almost every night where his Mom and Dad would pull him along behind them while they tried to catch up in each others lives. Although they lived together and had been married sixteen year, they undoubtedly never had time to communicate with each other. While they walked they usually argued about money and who was the bigger “Moron” for spending the money on something ludicrous.
Carl’s father had just purchased her another wedding ring, for during the argument that they had a few nights before, she was idiotically intoxicated which only further played into her personality of disagreeability whilst sober. They had been yelling about something that Carl couldn’t comprehend. The yelling was enough for Carl to retreat into his room and play with his action figures trying to keep his mind off of crying. She was yelling something indistinguishable in the bathroom that Carl couldn’t understand, partly due to the sobbing between each syllable that crossed her lips, and partly to the thickness of the wall separating the bedroom and the bathroom. One phrase that she opened the bathroom door to yell at his father had stuck with Carl for his entire life. “You fat disgusting pig, you fat moron, eat shit and die!” Timelessly this was Carl’s mother’s catch phrase if you will. The one thing that she could say to his Father to send him over the edge. It was at this point that Carl’s father, who had been sitting in the family room on the couch drinking his 26th beer of the night, bolted straight off of the couch and directed his rage to the bathroom.
His father was, at the time, not a fat pig. Not even in the slightest, he had been quite muscular and dedicated a good majority of his time at home lifting weights in their garage. With a look of pure possession, Carl’s father gave his mother an ultimatum. “Listen, you alcoholic bitch, you can either come out of there on your own free will. Or I will break this door down and pull you out the pathetic hair you love so much!” “I’ll give you to the count of three to open this door, or I’ll break it off” His father spat. Carl could smell the alcohol on his father’s breath from six feet away. Carl closed his eyes and started praying to the God that he thought he believed in. In a hushed and baited whisper he pleaded “Please don’t let my Dad hurt her again, they’re both drunk and they don’t really mean it”
Right when the last desperate sound escaped from his lips, he heard a sound that caused him to start crying uncontrollably. A thunderous crack came from the room right next to him. The door and flown off its hinges, and took half of the doorframe with it. Carl was in shock, and he hurried to the bathroom just as he watched his father clamber his beer stained body off the floor. Carl wish he had stayed with a friend that night, instead of trying to bond with his parents. His father was in such a rage that he seemed to almost rebound right off the floor when he heard his drunken wife threaten to call the police. “Dad, No! Leave Her alone!” Carl exclaimed. Carl ran to his father and tried to pull him away from the bathroom door. His father was in such a disoriented rage that without even a hesitation, his father grabbed Carl with such force that Carl couldn’t even utter a sound. Before he could see his father move, Carl was in his father’s forceful hands, his father looked unrecognizable, like a monster. He looked Carl straight in the eyes and threw his across the room. Sending Carl into a wall just beside the couch.
His mother was in such a state of panic when she witness what his father had just done, that she sprung up off the floor, wielding a frying pan that she had brought with her before she locked herself in the bathroom, incase his father turned violent again. Bolting at Carl’s father she swung as hard as she could. Carl’s father was unfortunately proficient in martial arts, and knew exactly how to react when he saw the drunk woman flailing a cast iron frying pan in her hands directly at his face. With the speed of a blink of an eye, he had caught her hands in mid swing, picked his mother up by the hands he now held, and threw her into the empty bathtub. Sounding a terrible thud as her body hit against the porcelain.
Carl was struggling to get to his feet. The impact against the floor had knocked the wind his young lungs could hold, completely out. His father felt quite satisfied with what he had done. Turning on his heels to walk out of the bathroom. Almost by fate, his father suddenly had the urge to urinate. He stumbled to the toilet in the far corner of the bathroom, standing on the unhinged door that was lying on the floor. His mother had realized an opportunity to strike while he had his back turned. She had slowly and quietly escaped to the kitchen to grab a very large knife.
When his father turned around she was standing in the doorway. He did not see it coming when she lunged at him tried to drive the knife into his chest. Somehow he managed to avoid actually getting stabbed, however he clutched his stomach in an attempt to fool her into thinking that she scored a direct hit. It had worked. His mother left the bathroom crying. Carl crawled slowly over to his father thinking that he might be dead. His father suddenly sobered from the altercation was doing his best to comfort the young boy.
Days like this were all too common in Carl’s life.
The next thing that Carl’s mind threw into his thoughts was another argument battle royal. The family had just recently moved into a new house. Carl’s father was becoming very well known in the city they lived in as an extremely talented tailor. His father had studied under Carl’s grandfather. A man who was born in Yugoslavia, and studied tailoring during the second world war. At only nine years of age he was considered to be one of the best in his area. When he was in his twenties he moved to Canada and opened up his own tailoring business. Carl’s father had taken over the business recently. The money wasn’t overflowing out of his bank account, however there was enough there to get a mortgage from the bank and move the family into a brand new home.
They had purchased a home computer, at that time it was still pretty new for a family to own one. Especially someone from that city. What they didn’t know was that Carl’s mother and father had been talking to other people in chatrooms. Meeting new people and trying to find something better the than the relationship between the two of them. The only reason they tried to stay together was because they couldn’t afford to get a divorce.
