Benjamin's Writings

a creative piece… part one

The old man opened the creaky car door – the one that’s all scratched up and misshaped. He had to refrain from slamming it closed as he fell down into the seat; groaning at the movement. It wasn’t a sports car that he was falling into, it was a two-door hatch that his second son bought with all the money to his name – his first car. The old man had no choice but to ‘borrow’ the car every day. But he understood … the son understood.

Leaving work to head home was rarely the highlight of his day. He wished it was. Work wasn’t fulfilling. It wasn’t satisfying. His body ached, to no end.

He’s a full-time electrician on an apprentice wage when he should be close to retirement. But he’s far from it. He lives one payslip at a time; juggling the bills and family and a lifetime of debt.

They don’t have the luxury of breaks or holidays. They’re stuck in a monotonous routine of work and high school and groceries on the weekend. This hell is seldom reprieved, save for family events.

The last family event was his eldest daughter’s wedding, but even that was tainted. The eldest brother behaved himself, but the mother was drunk; causing a scene and acting like a troubled teenager. Typical alcoholic behaviour, all because her “parents weren’t invited”. Before that event, it was a funeral four years ago.

He zipped the dying car up and down the hills of the estates suburb that his boss lived in. The area was littered with kangaroos – he’d slow down frequently to avoid an accident, but truth be told, sometimes he’d wish one would jump out and all he could do is swerve off the hillside.

The old man had received a call from his second son just before lunch. New holes were in the walls at home, a television smashed – a glass cabinet, too. The police were called – that’d be the second time this month.

But nothing would change. He’d get home, throw the ball for the rejected but eager dogs, then receive an earful when the eldest son decided to get off the computer games. They were all excuses, exaggerated and complete belief of truth in his drug-ruined mind. Excuses for him to explode and leave ruin in his path – no ramifications in sight.

The old man knew what the eldest son was feeling though, understood it, even – but he hated to admit it. There wasn’t much he could do. She was an alcoholic, and even though the kids say they want her gone, he knew that it’d only tear them apart further – far from repair. And, even though he was ruining the already falling down house one outburst at a time, he was his son. His eldest son – and the old man wasn’t ready to kick him out, despite all he had done.

He smoked five cigarettes on the half-hour drive home.

But he had his bonsais, the dogs, and his three youngest children. They were his lifeline – that sliver of light in what seemed to be perpetual night.