Time to say 'No'Dear Dad,
For as long as I live, I will never hear the end of ‘Just give me back what you owe me and I will not need anything from you’, from Mum, until you pay her back all the money you owe her.
The ‘you’ she keeps saying, is always said to me. The ‘you’ is supposed to be you. But, in saying it to me, it has come to signify both you and me, simply because I am your daughter. Because she refuses to speak to you, so she has ordained me as her mouthpiece, and she expects me to make things happen, from your end. Little does she know, that I know you won’t be able to return her money, in this lifetime. At all.
Perhaps she knows, but she’s in denial, thinking that your precious daughter can make you pay. Notice I say ‘your’ precious daughter, because she always sees me as a mirror reflection of you, a representation of all that you are. Brother is HER son, but I am YOUR daughter.
Yes, perhaps it’s time I admit that I am bitter by your marriage with her, that I am affected by the divorce. For many years, she has asked me the most irritating of all questions, ‘Are you sure you are alright with the divorce?’. And I always answered ‘Yes’.
It’s time to say, ‘No.’
I hate the fact that you were a stupid, narrow-minded man, who didn’t listen to the sensible things that she said to you.
I hate the fact that you thought you could get even by going to Thailand to sleep around, and instead, you came back with syphilis, and possibly infected my brother to be born with brain damage, jaundice and autism.
I hate the fact that you married her in the first place, even though you knew, before the vows were made, of her foul mannerisms and tendency to wage irrational cold, silent wars when irritated.
I hate the growing years that I had to suffer that tendency, even when it was for trivial and nonsensical reasons, like forgetting to switch off the bathroom lights or doing my homework; for being rough when playing with my brother when I was a kid; for saying silly things, as children would.
And I hate that I still suffer from this tendency, that became worst and more intensive, after the divorce, because I was the only logical punchbag, as she couldn’t possibly do it to my brother, and she refuses to speak to you.
I hate that I still suffer it, even though I am a grown, working woman of 28 years old.
I hate that because you took her money when you were married and didn’t return to her as promised, she has taken to address ‘you’ to me, as if I were you, as if I was the one who cheated on her, as if I was the one who wronged her, as if I were your mouthpiece.
I hate that you disowned me for two years, and all because I wanted to go to Australia to study direct. In those two years of studying twinning, I suffered through the fear of financial lacking, with feelings of insecurity about whether I would be able to study; and during those two years, the cold rituals were ever more intensive and agonising, till I attempted suicide and wanted to be done with the whole mess.
I hate you, for you know what I go through everyday, and yet, still, you intentionally subject me to the torment, by not returning what you owe her, and for still not admitting your fault for those two years of disowning me.
I have no intense daughterly-love for you anymore, just as I have no more intense feelings for her. It’s not my fault. You both killed it.
But I will still be filial, for the two of you did bring me into this world, cruel as it may be, being that I have to share it with you two. But truth be told, I hate you two for giving birth to me.
Maybe someday I will forgive you. And her. But for now, I will always remember the wrong that you did me, and I will not feel guilty over swiping your credit card, over you paying for the monthly car instalments every month and every year, over making you buy our supply of vitamin supplements, over you buying brother’s expensive epilepsy medicine, over making you put down that down payment for the apartment, and taking over the subsequent loan repayment when I get over to Australia since I’m paying it now, and over making you buy me that phone for my birthday; because you owe me and more.