I will go. It's home. It's Greece. Papa's girlfriend comes. He gets my suitcase. I look around the house. It's a house. I was a little girl here. I had butterflys in my hair. I think. My mom hits me. Drinks too much. The little girl. She is a big girl. She is angry. Soon she will leave. Then her life goes bad. So long it was. All those years. Where are they? I can't go back. I wish I can. How much I missed. I think it's sad. I go all over. I go outside. I look at the tree. I look at my room. I tell Papa, don't change it. Not until he sells the house.
We drive. We have time. I tell Papa. Go the old road. It's Hwy 7. We don't take the 401. Why? Long ago. I come to see Papa. You remember? He sends me to Banff. Well the bus goes this road. This road brings me. Now I go back that way. It's the end of this life. It's the end of everything.
Papa tells me. You play the radio. My stuff. I switch it. I can sing in the car. I sit in the front seat. I send Marky a text. I tell him. I go home. We do this all the time. Inside I am sad. Before I go to Greece. It's a vacation. Now it's not. I won't come back. I hum the song. Papa talks to his girlfriend. I look out the window. The trees are changing. It's pretty. The houses are big. I think. I remember the bus. Coming from Toronto so long ago. I am addicted to crack. In the apartment. Just smoke and drink. I am dead. I remember that bus. I am low. I am desperate. I think what happened. Does like get better? I stop to smoking crack. But it's not better. It gets a bit better. I am hollow. No feelings for so long. I look out the window now. Now is different. I go home. I return to be a chef. I know it. I won't come to Canada. Maybe for vacation. Maybe to visit two people.
I think. I don't like men. If they are close. I feel no trust. But, 2 men change me. Papa and Marky. It seems funny. Like it shouldn't be. How can I hate men. Yet 2 help change me. I showed Papa this blog. I said you can read it. I don't be ashamed now. I don't hide my life. He reads it. He is upset. He tells me he failed me. He even cries. I tell him no way. Papa keeps me going. I think. I can take pills. Go to sleep. Who will care? Not me. But Papa would care. All his life he lives. Thinking what mistakes he made. When I cry in bed. I think about Papa. I told him. He is the best father a girl has. In any life. No one is better. I make mistakes. He don't give up on me. And I can't give up on him. Even when I am a horrible person. He don't give up. Now he is happy. This girlfriend likes him. They like the same things. They like bowling. They like fishing. They like a steak. I pray to God. He can make this happen. Papa works his lief. Has nothing. Just bad women. Me and Mom.
Then is Mark. He is like Papa 2. I watch this song. It's Eninem. It's a big song. It's Love the way you lye The video shows two that fight. I watch it. It reminds me. It's me with Mark. I think how I lied. I cheated him. Steals his money. I hit him. I break his things. I remember I hit him. Break his tooth. I remember. I take the computer. I take the cable and cut it. Two pieces. I am angry. He works so much. I will stop it. I scream. All can hear. I slam the door so they can hear. I know it now. I am not angry at him. I hate me. He gets close. I can't think. It must be a trick. I make him hurt. I wanted too. I don't know why. He just sais calm. Please be calm. Then he cries. Then he leaves. I hear the door. It's the stairs. He will walk. I will see his car. It drives away. He will go be alone. Have a drink. Come home later. And is quiet. Talks quietly. Or has a drink. Then he will be happy again. I wonder how come. He don't give up. I know now. I see it this time. He is broken too. He is empty inside. I mistake it. Now I know. He just wants love. He holds on to me. Because he loves me. It's one way street at first. Then later it's 2 ways. You have a first love. It's a boyfriend. You are 15. Not me. I have my first love. I am 28. Love is tough. I feel I wonder bad things. Will he forget me. Will he leave me? He can find better. Who dates a whore?
I know both read this blog. So I can say this. In my life 2 people live in my heart. With each beat. I love each. It's a different way. But each stays forever. I am sorry. I am sorry for bad words. I am sorry I scream. I am sorry I let you down. Thank you. Papa, I hope you get happier. You deserve a smile. You are the best Papa. You think you are average. No way. You don't give up. You are my real Papa. I love you with all me. Mr Marky. You spend a lot on me. I know you suffer for it. Thank you. You make me laugh when I cry. You are strong. You will get better. Your old life. It's like mine. It's gone. Each day will get better. The lady in red. She is like you. Your heart will smile. I can feel it.
It's the airport. Papa and his girlfriend come in. It's a long flight. We go to eat. I watch Papa. He laughs. He smiles. This woman. She does too. You can see it. It's love I think. Papa tells her. Larissa will come back. Cook him a steak and potato. He sais to me. Now there are 2 cooks. It's good he sais. He likes to eat.
We will go. It's a long hug goodbye. No tears. Just smiles. Papa sais to call. Use the computer phone. It's tough but I will. Greece is ahead 6 hours. I will go inside. I wave goodbye. They wave back. I send Mark a text. I am going. He tells me. Good luck Lar. It's what he calls me. He tells me. He loves me. And he writes. Thank you. For coming to see him. I tell him. It's what friends do. They love each other. He is my friend. You see. A good friend. They love each other too. Different love. Time passes. I must go. We text. I tell him. It's time. He tells me goodbye. He gets me this phone. It don't work in Greece. I will keep it. To remember. I send one last text. I say 2 is always better than 1. I turn off the phone. I put in my purse. The plane goes slow. It sits then it goes fast. It goes off the runway. I look. I can see Toronto. I don't see it for a long time.
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