[Magic]

Part Two -

When she would walk in the door you would stand there, hands on hips, at the bottom of the stairs. You would smile. Say hello. Be kind, then you would turn on her. You would shout, scream, make orders, change them, tell her to eat tell her to work, tell her to stop. You were never happy. Then she started to ignore you, started to do what she wanted. Started to break free. Started to become her ‘own person’. You tried to be stricter. But you failed you couldn’t do it. You were like me, rejected.

I don’t know what I should do now. What our future is. If we can all be together again, will it all be the same? I hope it is. But then I hope its not. I liked the old ways. The routines. The rules. The way we all were. Me, the onlooker, the ‘parent’, the man that gets the money. You, the cook, the mum. Always there. Loved. And then there is her, the child. The one we all love. Your little girl.

‘A second on the lips, a lifetime on the hips’. You always say that. You always have said that. No wonder she eats the way she does. She’s always pigging out, like you mother was. You get so angry don’t you? “She turns down my food for sweets, for chocolate, for drugs”. That’s what you say. You blame her eating habits on herself, but its not her fault, its yours. You and your stupid rules. Everything we eat has to be perfect. Laid out neatly, in a line, not a bit out of place. Just like you want us to be. Plain. Normal.

You don’t ask us what we want to eat. You don’t really care about us. You just want us to do what you want. Be your person. To you I am a nobody. We are all nobody’s.

Remember those shoes? The ones you bought her before she left. You bought five pairs. You weren’t sure which shoes were most smart. Which shoes were most pure. You sat there all night. On the edge of the bed. Comparing each one of those white, striped trainers against her favourite jeans. You huffed and you sighed. You asked my advise, then rejected it. “there no good, they look awful” you would tell me. I wasn’t good enough. My decisions were ridiculous. Once you made your decision you put them in the middle of the table, all neatly wrapped up in their box. When she saw them, she rejected them. Rejected your gift, rejecting you. It never occurred to you that she was human, and that she could choose her own shoes and make her own decisions.

Right now I’m in the kitchen. With some paper and a pen. I’m letting my feelings out. Telling you how I see it. How I feel. I haven’t seen you for two days. You’ve rejected me, ignored me. Locked me out. Just like you have always done. Since the day I met you.

If you could see me now you would be laughing, you always used to laugh at me. You and him. You and Pete. You both would call me ‘the loan ranger’. I could see why he teased me. He was jealous.
I was successful. but why did you mock me? Why did you put me down? Was I just a toy? Something for you to play with. I didn't matter. I don’t matter. I've never mattered. Never.

The day we got married I was so happy. I felt wanted. I felt loved. I was in the limelight. For the first time in my life I had been noticed. Only tonight have I faced the fact that you didn't love me. You married me on the 'rebound'. I was just there. A walking stick that’s thrown about until the day it’s finally needed. A walking stick that’s leant upon and used as support to get through life. If you didn't love me why did you marry me? What made you want me? Why did you marry me? I know why, but I can’t face it.