Usual caveats. All editing and reviewing done by the author with Microsoft Word. Spelling is usually spot on. Australian / British standard English. Definitely the occasional typo. Grammar can be ropey at times, but it's been a long time since I sat in a classroom. All mistakes owned up to by the author. Please remember this is just fantasy and I'm an amateur.
Comments and feedback appreciated as always.
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My mother was a massive slut. I still don't know who my father is as, well, as I said, she was a massive slut and, from what I learned, fucked anywhere up to a dozen guys in the time I was more than likely conceived. I still have visions of her going on one of those American talk shows in an effort to find my father. What made it even worse is that she didn't even know the name of half of them. I heard stories that she would sometimes sleep with two or three different men a night...
Don't get me wrong, although I call her a slut, it was her life, and she was free to do what she wanted. But even though I called her 'Mum', she was a horrible mother, and I wouldn't have wished her on my worst enemy. Within a year of me being born, I was being dumped on my grandparents more often than not so she could head out to drink, dance, get high, and fuck anything with a heartbeat and a hard cock.
The apartment we lived in was a pigsty most of the time. Somehow, she did manage to keep a job. No idea how she did, nor what she did, considering she spent half her time hungover or recovering from whatever drugs she was taking. More than once a week, I went to bed hungry as there wasn't enough food in the house. My grandparents were a godsend, doing what they could to help me when Mum would disappear for a day or two. By the time I was a teenager, she could and usually would disappear for a week or more.
More than one man would become a temporary resident of our apartment. Mum had no plans on making any of them any sort of father figure. They were simply flavour of the month before they were shown the door, or they tired of her shit and left her. Thankfully, most of them ignored me. One or two proved to be rather kind, and I was sadder to see them go than still have my mother in my life.
Life wasn't great. School was a means of escape. My grandparents funded after school activities, so I had a reason not to go home. On a weekend, I'd spend time with friends, or head to my grandparents on a Friday night and not return home until Sunday night. Most of the time, my mother didn't even notice I was gone. I walked into the apartment more than once on a Sunday to find her completely fucked up out of her mind, yet somehow, she'd manage to get up for work on a Monday morning.
Then she made the situation even worse when I was sixteen by getting pregnant again. When she told me, I honestly thought she was going to have an abortion. She'd barely raised me. The idea of another unfortunate child ending up in our situation? I already felt sorry for my future brother or sister.
"Who's the father?" I wondered. All she did was smirk and shrug. "So another innocent child is going to be given the treatment I was." I clapped sarcastically. "Ever heard of birth control? Or how about just shutting your fucking legs for a change?"
She stood up and tried to intimidate me. "I'm your mother. I will not be spoken to that way."
I stood up and towered over her before looking around. "Mother? I fail to see one here. All I see is... you. Honestly, why didn't you just dump me with my grandparents and allow me to stay there instead of having me endure all your bullshit?"
"You're my son. And you're mine."
"I'm not a possession or a toy. And while I might be considered your son in the eyes of the law, you're hardly what I'd call a fit mother. Fuck, I would have been better off being an abortion than having to endure this shit for the past sixteen years."
She'd actually been pregnant longer than she realised, so by the time she gave birth to my sister, I was still sixteen. When she brought my little sister home for the first time, I felt that overwhelming desire to protect her, most importantly from the mother we now shared. As soon as she was a couple of months old, Mum was back to her old habits, and I was left looking after my sister. My grandparents were aware and did what they could to assist.
I asked them about calling child services or something. They both admitted to thinking about it more than once, but worried they wouldn't get custody of me, and then custody of my sister, believing we would end up going through the system. I could understand their worry about losing contact with us, so I simply resolved myself to make the best of the situation. It wasn't easy, considering I was both going to school and working...
Two months after I turned seventeen, I arrived home from school and immediately I felt something wasn't right. Firstly, my little sister was crying her eyes out in her crib. I could smell her soiled nappy as soon as I entered the bedroom, so made sure I washed and then changed her. Once she was settled down after enjoying a bottle, I wandered around the house, and nothing looked untoward until I entered our mother's bedroom.
All her clothes and possessions were gone.
"Oh shit!" I stated, phone immediately in my hand as I called my grandparents. They arrived quickly to find me looking after my little sister. Taking a look around the apartment themselves, they were not particularly surprised to find our mother had just packed up and practically fled from her responsibilities. There was no message left on any of our phones, no note explaining where she'd gone, nor why she'd chosen to abandon us.
Sitting down for dinner with them, it was a case of deciding what to do. The immediate offer was for both of us to move in with our grandparents, but part of me didn't want to be a burden on them. They'd already raised children of their own. Realising I didn't want to move out and noticing that I was already doting on my little sister, I didn't miss the glance and smile they shared.
"How about this, Mark?" my grandfather offered, "You stay here, stay in school until you graduate, keep doing your part-time work, and then you can decide if you want to keep studying or go out to work. While you're doing that, we will support you financially, while your grandmother will help babysit while you're at school and work."
"This place could do with a clean from top to bottom," my grandmother added, "We'll do that this weekend, Mark. The entire place. We'll look into replacing a few things too."
"I'll contact the landlord about changing the locks," I suggested, "I've dealt with him more than once as Mum was practically incapable of doing anything."
"Can't even call her," my grandfather muttered, shaking his head in disgust. She'd left behind her phone and any other means of being able to contact her. We had no idea if she'd left alone or with someone else, "How does that sound, Mark?"
"You're a responsible young man, Mark," my grandmother said with a smile, "But are you sure you want to raise your sister alone?"
I looked at her and felt the smile form but also my eyes get wet. "She's all I have, except for you two," I whispered, "The day Mum brought her home, I felt this surge of love that I know I'll probably never experience again until I have children of my own."
She was only six months old at the time, but I already felt more like her father than her brother, particularly compared to her mother, who had done practically nothing in regard to raising her once she'd brought her home. My grandparents stayed for dinner, and after I'd put my sister down for the night, we put our heads together and put together a few plans.
I knew I wasn't going to continue my studies once I finished high school. My grandparents were supportive, aware I wanted to go out and start making a wage. Thankfully, my grandfather had many friends around the city, getting me a great gig at a mechanic's workshop nearby. Though I would start as an apprentice, he made sure I had plenty of secondary work that would be cash in hand to supplement my meagre wage at first.
The small apartment I called home was freshened up within the first fortnight after my mother's departure, my grandparents spending a bit of money to make everything nicer. And I made sure I was present for all my little sister's big moments. I saw her take her first step. I was present for her first word. I loved making her laugh and giggle once those noises started.
Trying not to rely on my grandparents too much, once I was working, I managed to settle into a routine. I didn't want my grandmother to look after her every day, so we organised a babysitter to help out. We couldn't afford a nanny, even when pooling resources, but managed to find someone willing to keep my little sister occupied.
Until she started going to school, I would watch her grow up slowly with each passing month. She was a precocious little thing by the time she was three and four. Blonde hair up in pigtails more often than not. Big and expressive blue eyes. She was very inquisitive, always asking questions, and there was no doubt I was her hero.
The awkward point was not long after she started primary school and she asked about her mother. Then she asked about her father. I'd been her father figure nearly her entire life, but she'd never called me by anything but my name. I hadn't explained the situation to her because I simply thought she was too young to understand.
"Are you my daddy, Mark?" she asked in that cute little voice of hers.
I knew if I said no, I'd break her little heart. Picking her up, I sat her on my lap and asked, "Would you like me to be your daddy?"
"You've always been my daddy." I had to look away and blink away tears that started to form as she did her best to wrap her little arms around me. "I love you, Daddy," she said softly.
That did me in. I cried quietly as I hugged her back, remaining silent for a couple of minutes. "I love you too, sweetheart," I finally whispered.
"What about mummy?"
"I'm not sure you're old enough to understand, but I'll try. Mum... She left, sweetheart. She wasn't well, and she thought it best if I raised you instead."
I had no photos of our mother in the house. As far as I was concerned, she no longer existed. We'd heard nothing from her since the day she'd walked out. The only way I checked to see if she was still alive was by checking the obituaries in the newspaper and keeping an eye on the news. I had no idea if she was still a drunk and more than likely dabbling in drugs.
"So is it just you and me, Daddy?"
