Fat

I’m writing this while I wait for Lucas to pick me up to take me to his work. It starts at about 4:30 so we both had a little bit of time to go home after school, and get changed and relax a bit before he starts. I’m really looking forward to it. It all sounds really exciting!

I didn’t get a chance to write yesterday because as soon as I got home from school (Lucas dropped me off), Mother told me to run upstairs and change into something nice because we were going out to dinner. She didn’t tell me why or where we were going but she was smiling so obviously it was something good.

Just as I came downstairs again and Mother pronounced my outfit acceptable, Father banged his way through the front door looking harassed about something as he usually does. He shoved his briefcase against the wall, muttering under his breath. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but Mother apparently did, because she frowned deeply and sighed.

“Well? Are we going then? Or did you drag me away from work for nothing?” Father snarled.
Mother sighed again and nodded. “Come on, Caleb” she said, and headed out the front door.

So that’s what was wrong with Father: he was annoyed that Mother had asked him to come home early from work so that we could go out to dinner.

Anyway, we were in the car for about 10 minutes before we arrived at the Mexican restaurant that my whole family loves, called Amigos. We often go there for birthday celebrations and stuff.

We got a table right away because we know one of the waiters at the restaurant. His name is Sam and he’s one of my cousin Marissa’s best friends. Then, when Sam went away to grab us some menus, Mother told us what we were celebrating.

She had told her boss the day before yesterday that she was pregnant and due to have my baby sister in early November. Her boss called her into his office yesterday and offered her a “promotion”. I put ‘promotion’ in inverted commas because Mother won’t actually be paid any more money, but she will be able to spend most of her time working from home, so that it will be much easier to look after the baby and so that my family wouldn’t have to spend a lot of money on childcare like most families have to with 2 working parents.

So, while we (Mother and I, since Father was still really grumpy) were celebrating, Sam came back over and heard me excitedly saying my congratulations. He asked what I was congratulating her for and Mother told him about her promotion. He first verbally congratulated her, then said “be right back”, rushed off out the back of the kitchen area, and returned with a bottle of house wine that he said was on him. Mother smiled, but said that, as she was pregnant and I was too young, maybe a glass of the wine would be sufficient for Father.

Father disagreed though, and asked Sam to leave him the bottle, something which Mother wasn’t too happy about and Sam looked a bit apprehensive about too, but he left the bottle anyway.

We then ordered. I got a chicken enchilada and a salad and a glass of lime-flavoured mineral water. Mother got a beef and bean burrito with vegetables and a Diet Coke and Father got a Taco Fiesta (which is 4 tacos, each with different fillings) and his bottle of wine, which he was halfway through by the time we had received and eaten our meals.

The rest he finished for dessert, while Mother and I shared a piece of chocolate mud cake, which was very rich.

I guess it’s pretty obvious that by the time we had finished eating, Father was drunk.
It’s scary when he gets drunk. He yells at me; usually at home, but sometimes in public too, like he did last night.

He called me a “fat emo fag” because I was wearing the skinny jeans that I wore on my first date with Lucas, a salmon pink t-shirt, a dark grey cardigan and I had my fringe over one eye like I normally do. It really hurts to hear my own father saying those things even though I know they are true.

Mother yelled at him when we got home for saying those things in public, and especially for saying those things about me. She said, “Why do you think Caleb has those eating disorders, Neil? How dare you call our son fat when we both know that he’s very sick? He’s only just gaining weight again and then you go and say that? How dare you?”

He didn’t reply, he just stumbled up the stairs and that was the end of the discussion.

Well… at least Mother loves me. I love her, too. I hate my father, though.

Oh, Lucas is here.

I’ll write about watching him work tomorrow. I think I’ll be a bit tired when I get home, seeing as his family invited me for dinner after Lucas finishes work. That should be good.

Anyway, he’s coming upstairs now, so I should stop writing. I can’t wait!