I do not want to be insensitive to the fact my dad, Peter Junior, might have had a bad life. After all, I was not there to witness anything. I am pretty sure he has his own demons from the apparent masking he does. He says he has ‘Asperger’s,’ but he has said a lot of things that make me question his honesty.
My dad’s story through his eyes is that he was a ‘bastard child.’ My grandad, also Peter, used to single him out and treat him differently; I also got the impression he thought the same of his mum and thirteen siblings. My dad made out that they made his life hell, which subsequently drew him to join the army.
My dad has told me on a few occasions that he hated my grandad for what he did to him. I do believe there might be some truth to what my dad told me, getting treated differently, I mean, but it is not the grandad I knew.
My mum used to take me to see him in Canterbury, Bradford every other weekend, where my grandad would make us chicken, rice, and peas. One time, I went and lifted the lid on the pan to have a look at the food, and my grandad’s friend slapped my hand; he promptly told them to leave.
We would stay a few hours; my grandad would cook for us and then sit in his chair drinking dark liquor. I was always so excited to see him. He would always have a smile on his face, and every time, without fail, he would pretend I was his favourite grandchild.
Personally, I think my dad struggled to fit in and turned sour when he kept getting rejected. It could be possible, with him being an intelligent man, a nerd, so to speak, that he could have been bullied by other people or teased by his family, but that is just my theory.
My dad is a unique character. I have never felt unsafe in his presence, but I have not felt fully secure either. I find the instability in his behaviours and the way he carries himself intimidating, to say the least.
I have my own thoughts and theories about my dad; he is not an easy person to work out, but he wears his emotions on his sleeve. If I am honest, he is not a person I am fond of, but I see a lot of similarities, even if he thinks differently.
Every time I have met my dad, he is quick to put others down. Once I took my ex-girlfriend to meet him. We travelled for about 10 hours on 3 or 4 different buses to get there, and he obviously did not want to be there and did not talk much, then eventually said he wanted to leave.
It was an uncomfortable exchange, sitting in the car, and he did not speak until we went over this bridge in Scotland. “This is where people tend to go to kill themselves. Everyone who is not a Peltier should jump off that bridge and die,” he exclaimed.
This was the trip where we managed to get him to come to Toby Carvery, and I got seconds because, why not? And he proceeded to tell me I was too overweight, fat, and greedy, and that he could never eat that much food. Which is funny, because on the most recent visit, we watched the new Amy Winehouse movie, Rehab, and he told me I was too skinny and looked like her at her worst in addiction.
In fact, every time I have visited my dad, he had something bad to say about me and my character. He is keen to make sure I know I am not like his other eight children. My dad is right though; they are all so intelligent and put together people (a few are questionable), but I am different. But so was he in his family, so I do not understand why he would try and single me out at every chance.
I find humour in the sense that I am not smart enough for my dad. I knew I was not his ‘kind of’ intelligent, but I was smart enough to see he was a complete and utter joke. His intelligence was based on manipulating conversations and people; I do not buy it. He overcompensates; he is just well spoken enough to hide his weaknesses.
But there is always an eerie presence with my dad, as if he wants to be portrayed as someone, he is not but lets the mask slip from time to time. I do think something happened to him to make him so bitter, but I did not deserve the brunt of it. He claims he loves all his children; he does care, but that is the extent of it for many of us.
I believed in my dad; he knew exactly what happened to me and he left me in that house. He chose women time and time again. He had a chance to save me when I met him for the first time, when he came to my primary school with my mum and excitedly told me my grandad died, then took me to an arcade to celebrate. When we got home, my mum’s boyfriend was not happy and kicked him out whilst stating, “Courtney is my daughter now, she does not need you.”
But I did need him. My mum’s boyfriend tried to abuse me shortly after, but I shouted for my mum, and she told me to go downstairs. I was too terrified to tell her what happened then but went on to tell her when I was older.
My dad continued to let me down over the years, and I let him because I loved him. On the other hand, my dad was naive.
My conclusion is that he might take a part of the blame and just cannot bring himself to admit it or speak with me about it (however, that could be wishful thinking). I do think he is a nice person; he is generous, and he can be nice, even to me, but it is an act. I am very much like my dad in the sense that we push people away because our thoughts of ourselves are louder than people’s intentions, but I do wish we had a better relationship, because I am also very understanding.
I do not have any interest in being in my dad’s life anymore. I am too hurt by the way he has treated me in the exact same way he says his dad and family hurt him. However, there is not a doubt in my mind that this result is anything less than what he wanted.
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