Author's notes: I am Australian and American readers will probably realise that our spelling follows the British model. I hope this does not prove too much of a distraction. I've also taken some liberties with the legal system, but hey, this is fiction!
I realized mum and dad argued a lot by the time I turned fourteen but I was devastated and wholly unprepared by dad's sudden disappearance.
You see, I was always a daddy's girl. While mum tolerated me and there was no animosity between us, it was dad who always took me to netball training, it was dad who always accompanied me to our school's parent-teacher evenings and it was even dad who first told me about the birds and the bees -- an hilarious conversation in hindsight because playground chatter and school health ed lessons covered the subject many months earlier.
We lived in a large country town, where dad ran a small specialized distribution business. He owned a storage shed on the outskirts of town and delivered drums of various pesticides and agricultural chemicals to retail outlets, both in town and in surrounding areas. He travelled the district in his 3-ton truck and when servicing the outer reaches of his area, was often away for several days.
A stay-at-home mother until I started school, mum took up a job as a shop assistant in a local liquor store, working only while I was in school. I enjoyed a happy childhood, loved and spoiled by both my parents. I loved sport and dad was always on hand to support me in my endeavours.
Our troubles began when mum was offered a job as a bar attendant in one of the local hotels. Dad was against the move because it involved evening work, pointing out that I would be left to my own devices for many hours of the day when he was doing his out of town runs. Even when he was working locally he usually arrived home late each afternoon so mum would be starting work just as he finished.
Mum's argument won the day. She pointed out that she would be home when I came home from school and would also be earning significantly more, even before taking tips into account.
The new arrangement was not ideal and I was sad for my father, who was seeing less and less of mum. The hotel closed at ten o'clock but clean up took another hour so she arrived home just before midnight. By that time dad was sound asleep and so the only quality time they spent together was on Sundays, when the hotel was closed and Monday evenings, which was mum's day off.
Initially the new arrangement worked surprisingly well. Mum was happy in her new job. She's a natural with people, an easy conversationalist and a near perfect fit for her role behind the bar. Dad became progressively more miserable. The less he saw of his wife, the more he turned to me for company. I loved my dad unconditionally and it hurt me to see him pining.
Inevitably the tension at home led to arguments. Dad begged mum to give up her bar work, pointing out that the family did not need the extra income and if she needed an outlet, she could return to a general retail environment. Mum was adamant though. She enjoyed her work. She said she was "making a difference" in the community and at the same time, contributing to our household finances.
Several months later, mum came home well after her usual time. I awoke when I heard the door of her car close and was a little surprised when moments later, I heard her in the shower. Usually she went straight to the bedroom to join my father. Nothing was said the following day and life continued, with the stress escalating with every passing day.
One day when dad was feeling really downcast, he confided in me that he was reaching the end of his patience with mum. She was coming home later and later each night and their life together was non-existent. Even their daily conversation over the breakfast table had dwindled to nothing because mum rarely woke before midday.
And then dad was gone.
He left home as usual, driving me to school on his way to the warehouse, kissed me on the cheek as I headed off and failed to arrive at home that evening. I remember it clearly. It was a Monday -- mum's day of rest. She argued loudly with dad in their bedroom before breakfast and though obviously upset when he drove me to school he refused to talk about it.
When I asked mum what time she expected dad home, she shrugged it off.
"How would I know? He never talks to me any more."
I immediately jumped to his defence. "Mum you're never home. Poor dad has tried so hard to talk to you but by the time you get home, he's sound asleep and lately you're still sleeping when he leaves for work. Even on Sundays you've been sleeping in so dad has to take me to netball. Did you know he also takes me to netball practice twice a week while you're at work? I guess you wouldn't know that because you're never here."
With all the drama a fourteen-year-old could muster, I stormed to my bedroom, slamming the door to emphasize the point.
A week went by with no sign of my father and I was becoming frantic. Mum refused to give me any information, insisting she had "no idea" about his whereabouts, but I was convinced that she knew a lot that she was not prepared to share with me. Finally I jumped on my bicycle after school and rode to dad's warehouse.
A signwriter was working on a scaffold above the warehouse door. He had already painted over the existing logo and was in the process of outlining his new signage.
"What are you doing?" I asked the guy. "Is my dad changing the name on the wall?"
"Nah. He sold up and the new owners are changing the name."
"WHAT?"
"Fire sale from what I heard. Sold it for a song. Hang on, if you're his daughter, how come you didn't know?"
"I haven't seen him for a week," I sobbed. "I came over here to talk to him."
The painter climbed down from his scaffold and wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders.
"Look love, I don't know too much about what happened, but the new owners say they bought the business last Tuesday at well below market price because your dad had to leave town."
In abject misery, I slowly cycled home again, arriving to an empty house as expected. I decided to check mum and dad's room and there my worst fears were realized. Dad's wardrobe was empty. His desk in the spare room had also been emptied out. Tears welled up again while I came to terms with the reality that my father had left me without bothering to say goodbye. I was devastated.
My mother came home at a few minutes after eleven each evening after dad's sudden departure so I waited in the kitchen until she arrived.
"Please mum," I pleaded. "Tell me what happened between you and dad. Where is he? How can I contact him. I miss him so much."
She looked down at the floor as she carefully framed her reply.
"I don't know where you can reach him. I understand that he suddenly sold our business and moved away. Maybe he has a girlfriend we know nothing about. He's been very distant lately."
"Dad wouldn't do that to us mum. Surely you have some idea where to find him."
"None at all. He gave a solicitor power of attorney over his affairs and just ran off. A creepy lawyer called me last week and said that all communication for your father should be directed to him."
"What's the lawyer's name?" I pressed. "I can call him and find out where dad is."
"That's probably not a good idea, but if you want to do that, his business card is next to the phone."
My phone call to the lawyer's office was even more perplexing. No, they could not put me in touch with my father. They had specific instructions to that effect. No, they did not know where he was, though they were able to contact him. After much pleading on my part, they agreed to tell my father that I was trying to contact him.
Although I tried his cellphone a few days earlier, I reasoned that if the lawyers could contact him, then so could I. I just needed to make the call from a number he did not recognize. At school I borrowed a friend's phone and made the call.
"The number you are calling in not in service." Droned the reply. Another dead end.
Mum's extra late nights seemed to have stopped for she continued to arrive home at around eleven o'clock each evening and took time out to make sure I was fine. She avoided any reference to dad at the meal table and on her days off, she was keen to spend time with me, even coming to netball to cheer for our team. During the week, I rode my bicycle to training and to school and life became as normal as it could be. I mourned the loss of my dad and even more the frustration of not knowing why he abandoned us.
At school I made friends with Jake, a boy who seemed to understand my anguish. We became a steady couple, studying at our home most evenings. I suppose that it was inevitable he would become friendlier towards me. He started with platonic kisses and sympathized with me over the loss of my dad. Then the kisses moved from a peck on the cheek to a peck on the lips; the peck on the lips became a kiss with tongue; the gentle hug became a grope of my breasts until finally, I called a halt to physical contact. Jake was angry at being rebuffed and broke off our relationship after we had been together for more than twelve months. I was disappointed but far from devastated. I was not ready to lose my virginity and that's surely what was on Jake's agenda. I was completely unprepared for Jake's reaction. It was vile in the worst way.
