Rent Boy Page 5

  “Wake up?” I asked with surprise.

  “Yes, so you won’t feel anything. We will just put you asleep and will not even know it has happened”, she continued.

  The operation process ran like clock-work and very precisely. They put some hospital gown on me and a plastic hat. The doctors and nurses reassured me that I will “fine and not to worry”, continuing to speak to in order to cleverly distract me whilst they intravenously sedate me. I remember my mum holding my hand, almost with tears in her eyes, and tenderly stroking my forehead telling me how much she loves me. But the sedation was gradually building and I remember was being rolled away through the corridors of the hospital on my way into the operating theatre. My mother would not let go of my hand as I was being rolling in and this gave me peace and reassurance I was going to be okay. Then that was it. I was knocked out and do not remember a single after that.

  Several hours later……

  I woke suddenly as if I was asleep for one second and found myself back in my ward bed. Feeling still affected by the anaesthesia it took me a few moments to realize what has happened. I felt cotton wool taped to my ears to sound was slightly muffled (nothing new here ironically). But I felt on the side of my neck something peeling and realized it was dry blood. The nurse immediately came when I awoke to see how I was and my mum was sitting beside me holing my hand. The nurse explained the operation was for the insertion of special tubes in my ears to drain the fluid. I thought about this and perhaps it could be a result of years of swimming practice I did frequently during that time, though not sure. But this was really the first explanation of the purpose of this operation in Layman’s terms! So the next stage for the tubes to fall out naturally, whenever that may be. So, that was that, and it was back to my ordinary life soon. Christmas was also fast approaching and this was a period of my childhood with great significance and one of the happiest period in my life for ………………………………….

  24th December, around 1983.

  Christmas Eve and it was our usual family gathering, on my mum’s side, where we had a banquet and gift exchanging, with all our aunties, uncles and cousins. This was one of happiest memories of my childhood and an event I looked forward to so much every year as child. Having a European background we celebrated Christmas with the extended family on Christmas Eve. They were really fond memories and so much fun, especially the humour of my Uncle Walter. He was a real character and certainly took the limelight with his hilarious antics. Traditionally we started with the famous chicken soup, turkey, ham and plum pudding but the highlight for the kids was the exchange of gifts. We always got good gifts and my mother always gave good gifts to my cousins regardless of the little money we had. It was such a genuine enjoyable occasion and the reason I am putting such emphasis on this period will be justified as you progress further into my life. Following this was Christmas day with just the immediate family and my Oma. As I look around my small but close family I was happy; happy in silence. The only thing missing was my dad but somehow I no longer cared. Since the day I said goodbye to my father, I wondered why he did not make any attempt to make contact, in any form, with me or my brother at all. If a father loved his children, even though my mother had custody of us, my understanding is that he still had legal rights for visitations. But since ‘that day’ he strangely disappeared and there had not been a trace of him ever since. This lingered on my mind for many years from then on, and continues to this day. That said,

  Where is my father?

  ……………………………………………..

  Around May 1985.

  Over the next few years my mother dated various men who seemed to appear and then disappear. Nothing unusual about that, just saying. There were a few men mum dated whom appeared to be okay at prima facie, but all those relationships she had always seemed to end so suddenly. We never knew what ended those relationships, and I guess it’s not my place to know, as really it’s none of my business, yet I was curious. It is fair to say that I wished happiness for my mother and that she would find genuine love again. But I want to emphasise on the word ‘genuine’. So far, none of these men that my brother and I really had our tick of approval, or perhaps it was me setting the standards too high for a man who could potentially be our stepfather. I couldn’t accept the fact that this would compensate a natural father, unless they showed genuine affection for his stepchildren unconditionally. I think that is a fair deal and not too much to ask, even though I was sceptical we would really have another dad. It would take a really special man to sweep her off her feet.

  Suddenly one day, mum mentioned a man that she saw more than any other of her past dates. My mother bragged on about him frequently saying that he is the “man of her dreams”. So, naturally as I have great trust in my mother, I was very keen on meeting him. Although this ‘mystery man’ we never got to meet for some time, she kind of went through a bit of a dating spree. I just accepted it and kept quiet. This mystery man never appeared until one day she wanted to bring him home to introduce us to him. Mum also said this with excitement, like it was some significant announcement. I was apprehensive probably because I was not prepared for what I was anticipating. After a few months of dating, it was time to meet this man my mother speaks so highly about. His name was Bob. I already hated the name but who knows? He might be a nice guy and I was hoping for the best.

  Finally one evening my mum with enthusiasm brought her new man to our little flat in Footscray, a suburb in Melbourne’s West. As mum and this ‘Bob’ were making their entrance, my brother and I were waiting in the lounge-room with anticipation. I was nervous to meet this so-called ‘Superman’. Then mum and her ‘boyfriend’ appeared at the front door hand in hand. My eyes instantly were attracted to their hands clasped to tightly together that it really did look like love. But I hated it. My stare gradually rose to look at Bob and he glared right into my face with a smile which seemed to be strained, like he felt he had to smile. He then discreetly looked up and down at me as if there was something about me he did not like. I did not know why he looked at me like that as if he was judging me based on how I look and my posture. He probably knew what I was to become later in life before I did. So I dare to say it but I felt ‘Bob’ was an intruder into our little family.

  “Boys…..This is Bob” Mum said in a soft but excitable voice.

  He looked okay, a bit of grey hair and I assume he much older than mum. He had a genuine looking smile but there was something behind that smile that I did not trust. His smile had an element of a smirk. I could not put my finger on it but he had something to hide. He bent down to my brother and I like we were puppy dogs and patting our heads. He looked like an idiot, trying to be the ‘nice friendly guy’.

  “Hello boys! How ya goin?.....eh?!” he said with a strong British accent along with a weird giggly, but masculine tone.

  “C’mon lads give us a hug” he asked suddenly whilst swinging his arms open.

  My brother didn’t give a thought and just hugged him, whereas I just stood there, frozen for a moment. He was obviously trying to win our seal of approval and it was transparent. It was a pathetic act of fake human kindness. He could not fool me. Then after Sam, he gave me a tight hug. I tried to reciprocate but it was hard. He was a stranger and he is not my dad. He never will be but I only happy for my mum if she is happy. That’s all. I was then sensing a tsunami of an announcement and I was not happy.

  “And boys…..you can start calling me dad,” Bob said oddly confidently.

  “Why?” I suddenly said. “You and mum aren’t married yet….are you”

  Bob’s constant smile showed a sight of a slight tremble of his upper lip and replied with a lump in his throat, “Annie, maybe you like to do the honours and tell the boys?” Mum looked directly at me first and paused before replying “let’s have some dinner first before dad will tell you about the new big house we are going to live in”. Bob just stood there and gave me a chilling stare. My heart missed a beat and m
y impression of Bob suddenly kicked in my internal instincts that he is hiding some secret. My whole world had just been put on pause, right there and then. It was like a rude interruption into our family. How can I call someone ‘dad’ when he is not? His fake ‘wanky’ friendliness was beginning to look so transparent that I could see right through it. I guess the so-called ‘big house’ was the drawcard for this proposed marriage. But that was not good enough as far as I was concerned. He is not my dad, however I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. I made a promise to myself I will be open to a new dad but he needs to earn that status, and I guess it has to be reciprocal. I thought that I will give him shot to prove himself, as I don’t really have much of a choice, no matter how sudden this happened.

  ……………………………………….

  A couple months later…

  Bob and mum were seeing each other regularly. They were dating if you want to call it that, for around about a couple of months, then suddenly mum told us to start packing. Just out of the blue, no warning, just pack and go. This amongst also the fact that I would have to go to a new school, lose my current friends, and make new friends. The repercussions of being this young age and in this situation was not easy at all.

  So we ended up moving into Bob’s house in the outer suburb of Melbourne, called Werribee. The house was big, and a massive backyard, all the ‘mod cons’ inside and all. The guy must have had money. So really, I didn’t mind when we ‘three musketeers’ moved in with him, even though this change of heart sounds superficial. Then came the day, in fact three days later, when we all sat down to dinner, with a new rule.

  “NO ELBOWS on the table!” Bob demanded assertively like an army sergeant.

  “No talking at the dinner table, backs straight and head down!”

  He was Hitler at the dinner table and it was rude awakening. Bob’s side of him began to slowly come out of the shadows. He was power hungry and wanted to be the boss. But what I considered rude was he said out aloud at the dinner table; just out of the blue and spontaneous.

  “Your mother and I are getting married....and we’re all gonna be one big happy family!”

  My reply was simple and robotic, “Okay”.

  My brother seemed overjoyed. I pretended. I just didn’t understand the need to sign a piece of paper stating that you are bound legally by marriage. Why? What for? I was more than ever suspicious. The whole situation was sugar and spice and all things nice and it was ‘gonna’ get a whole lot stickier. I know, I felt it. Also Bob interrupted when clearing his throat. Here it comes I was thinking.

  “I want you both to start calling me daddy.”

  My instant reaction was “Earn it first!” But as I was shy and polite I just went with the flow. How could I possibly start calling a stranger ‘dad’ when he clearly wasn’t.? This was so difficult for me. Sam seemed to take to the idea of calling him dad with no problem. He was not my dad, and never will be. I felt like I had to swallow my pride and take all my courage and force myself each time I called him ‘daddy’. It was so hard to do but all I want is to see my mother happy. So I will do what I am told for now. But it was right there and then that my life, and myself, had changed forever in multiple ways which leads onto probably some of wrong decisions I did later in life which you shall learn about soon.

  …………………………………………………………………………………………………

  Chapter three........’ A Dance with the Devil’

  The day arrived when my mother got married to Bob who is now my new stepfather. I didn’t trust Bob. My instincts for years whilst they were dating told me that there was something not quite right about him. He has a secret and it was not pretty. I don’t know what it is, but I am going to discover it.

  My mum was very excited and I was genuinely happy for her. It was a simple ecclesiastical ceremony with the function held afterwards at our home. My mum never looked prettier. She always was very pretty anyway and all my friends said so. But she glowed on the day. My brother and I however were dressed in matching white ‘Miami Vice’ style suits. I know it was the eighties but this was ridiculous. Sorry mum, but the suits for Sam and I?;

  “NO GO ZONE! Oh, my god! “

  But we had no say in it, we had to wear them and both looked as cute as buttons. Apparently Bob said we had to. I began to get the impression that what Bob says is law. And if he said jump, we had to jump. He was now my stepfather. I hated the word; ‘Stepfather’.

  “I hated the word….loathed it…..and I began to hate him……!” I thought constantly.

  But the word ‘stepfather’, suited him. As far as I was concerned, that what he was exactly just that; a step-further.

  The day surprisingly went quick and I quite enjoyed myself. It really was a celebration and all our friends and newly extended family joined together in unity. There was music, there was food and I do remember quite ‘pigging’ out on the yummy food as the adults started to get a bit ‘tipsy’, if you know what I mean. I found it flattering that everyone kept telling us how handsome and cute my brother and I looked. But I felt like an idiot.

  However I was very proud to have a mum as pretty as she was, and I have to admit, I began to get used to the idea to now have someone to call ‘dad’. Maybe he’s alright. Maybe this will be a really good family. He treated my brother and I like gold, and my mum like a princess. My only grudge was his very traditional view on things in general and was very old fashioned and displayed in such an anarchic manner.

  Then along came another one of his rules.

  “Always say hello to someone when they say hello to you”, he said in voice with deathly force.

  I was really shy so when someone, like one of Bob’s friends said hello to me, I did say hello, but it was so soft, you could hardly hear it. One of Bob’s friends was introduced to Sam and I by Bob. His name was Peter and he said “Hi boys!” My brother said “Hi” straight away and I said it too but it was too soft to be heard. Bob got the impression that I didn’t respond with a greeting and with force grabbed my arm and shook me and yelled

  “Say Hello! , don’t be rude to my friends you little shit!!!”

  I was stunned, and I think so was his friend Peter. Peter told Bob to calm down.

  “Mate, he’s only a kid, leave him alone, there’s no need for that, settle down” Peter said in a calming tone.

  That was the first time he touched me in that way. Where was my mother at the time? She never saw it. But I walked away with shock; found a dark corner in the backyard and cried. I felt abused and violated. It was like I began to see a side of Bob that only I can bring out. I think he hated me. And I began to loathe him. My loathing permeated into every part of my mind, body and soul.

  A few minutes later Sam found me as I was crying my eyes out and put his arm around my shoulder and said in his soft little brotherly voice:

  “Don’t worry Jay-Jay, I’ll tell mum what happened”.

  “NO!” I said. “Don’t tell her, she will get upset....just ….just…..don’t worry about it”. I know Sam didn’t agree but he went along with my decision.

  …………………………………..

  The next day I awoke and had a look at the mess outside where the function was. I was the first to wake and just started to clean up the mess in the backyard. My mum was next to get up and said “Good morning darling”. I automatically felt obliged to tell her what Bob did to me but could not find the courage to tell her. So I just said “Good morning” and mum started to help me clean up. Bob then got up and I remember that first moment when I saw him I shuddered.

  “Good morning Jay!” he said with friendly excitement.

  I was confused. I thought he hated me and was angry at me. But he acted as if nothing happened. It was like I saw a second personality to him; it was weird. I felt traumatised, but to Bob, life just kept on going. I knew we had a problem and it was not going to go away. This was the start of something that was not g
ood.

  …….……………………………..

  During the years at primary school, I enjoyed them. I had lots of friends but got teased sometimes. My brother did too. This was because Bob wanted my brother and I to wear traditional, but optional, school uniforms. Bob dressed us like we were about to serve in the army. The problem was that we were made to wear shiny black shoes and knee high grey school socks. It was just pure ‘dag central’. I hated it. But the thing was, the uniform was optional at this school and the majority of students did not even wear the uniform or had a ‘cooler’ version of the uniform. My brother and I felt like dags. Another thing too was at that time there was a new law that came in, in Victoria that all school children must wear a helmet when riding a bicycle. But in school it was considered ‘uncool’ to wear a helmet, even though it was illegal. However, if you had a ‘cool’ looking helmet, it was okay. If you had what was called a ‘Stack hat’, the most common type of bike helmet at the time, it was considered very ‘uncool’. Bob made my brother and I wear those bloody Stack hats and every time we rode to school and we were teased. I was humiliated to wear them and hated been called a ‘nerd’ just for wearing ‘those’ helmets. I tried to explain to Bob that a Stack hat was ‘daggy’ and he said:

  “If I catch you or your brother not wearing them, I will beat the shit out of you!”.

  I knew he meant it, so I kept on wearing them to school. But he looked always at me; not my brother. Why?

  Bob was very strict about family values which sounds quite normal but he was a bit too strict. I mean, he didn’t like it if I spent time in my bedroom just doing homework. Instead I should be in the lounge room watching TV with the family according to Bob. We also went on camping trips in country Victoria and Queensland quite regularly which was quite fun. Bob during those times was actually fun to be around and was a real different person like the holidays brought out the best in him. I don’t know if it was a mask or not. One time I remember there was a Christian religious group having a sort of fun games session on the camping grounds we stayed in, in Bright, located in central Victoria. Sam was interested but I went. It was just something the religious group did as a fun activity for kids. During the session they asked all the kids if they want to write a letter to god to ask god into their lives. They also said there were no prizes for this activity, like the other games we played, but it was for your own interest. They said if you want to write the letter, then bring it to the games session the next day. The next day I realised that I was the only one who wrote the letter. It said: