Chapter 3: we just need a little patience

Alexa had alot of anger issues. When people were watching she acted like the happy perfect child but behind the scenes there was alot of hurt there. My dad tried to explain to me that Alexa's dad was pretty much a douche bag and it caused her to lash out at times, but i could care less what her excuse was.



My attitude towards her changed slightly on her 12th birthday. I remember being at my dads that day for the celebration, and i walked into me and Alexa's room to get something when i heard her talking on the phone. My dad was living in a three bedroom house in Rexdale at the time, so me and Alexa had to share one bedroom and my brother got his own. At this point my Dad and Teresa had been living with eachother for about 6 years, and had my little sister Nicole, she also shared the bedroom with me and Alexa. It became very difficult to get a moment to yourself in that house.



She didn't hear me come in, her back was facing the door and she was on the phone leaving a message for her dad, the message was along these lines:







" Hi dad, so this is your daughter Alexa. You remember me right, that baby that was born 12 years ago today? Its my birthday today in case your wondering and as usual you forgot, but i wouldn't expect anything less from you. Thanks for the gift by the way.. oh wait i didn't get one of those either. Thanks for that. "





Then she hung up and turned around to see me standing there, frozen in my spot. We made eye contact. There wasn't any sadness in her eyes, no anger, just resolution. She lifted her chin up slightly and walked passed me to leave the room. I never questioned her about it, i never asked her if she was okay, i just pretended like i didn't hear anything. Later that evening i talked to my dad, crying i told him " you can be her dad too if you want, i don't mind sharing."







I didn't feel sorry for her, she would have hated that. But now there was a sense of understanding and with it came some patience. I still had this dislike for her, a twinge of jealousy, but there was empathy there now too. I mean sure my parents drove me nuts, my mom was always guilt tripping me and my dad was always pushing me to be perfect and it was alot of pressure for me to take. But in least they were there. My dad never promised to come see me and then just not showed, as i had seen Alexa's dad do to her on countless occasions. My dad always called every night when i was at my moms, and he would never miss a holiday. He always made sure i was aware that he loved me. My mom did the same.






I began to respect my dad for everything he did for Alexa, instead of resent the attention she got. Although she made it hard to love her, he never quit doing so regardless. After a while he began introducing her as " our daughter." or "my daughter." instead of "Teresa's Daughter" to new friends and aquantances. I thought Alexa would protest this new title, say " I'm not your daughter," but she didn't. She looked shocked at first but there was a little smile there on her face when he said it. It was only there for a brief moment but i caught it each time, it made me a little content. Made this a little more of a family i guess, and less of a mish mash of people crammed into one house trying not to step on eachothers toes.





Things began to change on the mom front as well. My mom moved out of my grandfathers house for one. We had been living with him since the divorce and i was about 10 when we finally found a house in Concord, Ontario. I had a hard time with the move. You would figure that i would be used to moving around at this point, but Concord and Downtown Toronto were different worlds, even though they were only a 15 minute drive apart. The change of scene just freaked me out. There were no streetcars there, no base from the music in the clubs, no people talking and laughing in the streets around me. Just silence. I swear you could hear the crickets outside when you opened the windows at night. For a long time i was unable to sleep, it was too quiet.







My over active imagination would cause me to make up stories about why it was so quiet in my new neighbourhood. I remember once making up a story where all our neighbours were ghosts. But of course we weren't aware that we were in a ghost town, it wasn't until we found the cemetary..... then I'd end up scaring myself and have to sleep with a night light on.







The school i attended there was horrible. It was the first time i had ever been picked on. The kids at this school were richer than me. They had the latest hair styles and the latest clothes. They shopped at stitches and i shopped at BiWay, i didn't fit there.





My mom met Tony the year we moved into that house. It was my fault they met really. I had wanted cheese from the butcher shop around the corner, my mom met Tony when she went out to buy some for me. They met and began to date, it got serious and he started to come around the house quite a bit after that.







Tony did not make a good first impression. He was Sicilian, about 5'2 with a beer belly. It seemed he had hair everywhere except his head and he had an accent. Not an Italian accent more like a new yorker accent. He grew up in Toronto so lord knows where he got it from.

He had very disturbing expectations of woman as well. It wasn't because he was a chauvinist or hated women in any way, it was because he was raised with a mother who did absolutely everything for him, i wouldn't be surprised if the woman wiped his ass until he was 30! It was just the way it went for him in his family, he really can't be blamed.

i also think he believed that my mother needed help raising her kids. The first time i met Tony he came over for dinner. Me and my mom had an argument about something later in the evening and Tony butted into the conversation, telling me to go to my room. I couldn't believe that someone who did not know me one bit could actually believe he had the right to discipline me. By this time my Dad and Teresa had been dating a number of years and she hadn't even attempted to discipline me, that was my dads arena. But here comes this chubby, short, crude Sicilian man who has never laid eyes on me before, trying to tell me what to do?

But here's what really got me. After he said it, i looked at my mom in disbelief thinking she would tell him to back off. She didn't. She agreed with him and sent me on my way. I didn't speak to her for a bit after this.

I began to feel a little disconnected and a little clausterphobic all at once. I hated being at my Dads because i was in a constant epic battle with Alexa, and now i had a man i couldn't stand to even hear speak, taking up space at my moms as well. I wanted to run away, get out of there and find a place all to my self, where i could do and say what i wanted without being reprimanded. Without having new people that my parents chose, but i had to deal with, waltzing into my life and bombarding me with change that i never asked for.

Instead i began to write, and read, and write some more. I got lost in other people's worlds and wrote my frustrations out of me. That pen was my sounding board, my voice, my world of ink.