Romulus, My Father | VCE Creative Piece — Diary entry from Raimond’s POV
17 October 1957
Dear diary,
This morning, I rode my father’s motorbike to Baringhup to pick up Lydia’s letters from the post office. It’s the first time my father has let me drive by myself all the way to Baringhup, and I loved it. Racing through the hot, yellow grasslands, around the shimmering lakes of Carin Curran with the wind blowing in my hair! This is what it must feel like to be Australian, I thought. Free and unstoppable.
The rides to and from Baringhup with my father are often the best part of my day. Seeing the hues of blue and orange in the sky and hearing the sounds of crickets and birds late in the afternoon is what makes me feel truly alive. I don’t think my father has ever seen the landscape in this way since he talks so often about the beautiful, majestic trees or Europe. Sometimes it feels as though we see the world through completely different lenses.
What does make my father happy, though, is writing letters to Lydia. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Lydia. I guess a part of me thought that my mother would come back.
But she hasn’t.
The least she could write to me. I haven’t seen nor heard from her since Mitru died, and it’s been months. My father barely mentions my mother these days, and I wonder if he even thinks about her anymore. I certainly do. I sound a little childish, but I miss her. I wish she would make some attempt to reach out to me, to tell me how she’s been and maybe ask how I’ve been. I know she still cares. She has to.
I haven’t told my father about any of this. After Mitru died, he felt a little cold and distant, but now his business is booming and it finally feels as though we’re getting back to normal — well, as normal as we can get. It crossed my mind, and it pains me to think that my father’s pure happiness has something to do with my mother’s absence. I don’t know. I would be lying if I didn’t kind of appreciate the sense of peace and normalcy. I hope it lasts.
16 March 1958
Dear diary,
I can’t believe what just happened. I’m writing this down to process it.
My mother, after two and a half years of ignoring me, visited me at school today.
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A million thoughts ran through my head when I saw her. Where has she been this whole time? Why is she coming back? Why now?
I forgot about those questions when I walked closer to her and noticed her appearance. Her face was thin and pale, and her cheeks were hollow. I looked as if she might fall or faint at any moment.
But it was the look in her eyes that scared me the most. She had a haunted expression — tortured, even. An expression I had seen once before, in Mitru’s eyes the last time I saw him. My mother either didn’t notice my shock or ignored it.
She gave me a bright smile that looked a little too forced and said ‘Hello Raimond! How much you’ve grown!’
I returned the smile and greeting, and she took me out to a café for lunch. An awkward silence hung around our table while we waited for our food. What do say to your mother with whom you haven’t seen nor spoken to for two and a half years? I had to force myself not to stare at her, but she looked so different it was difficult. Her dark under eyes was clearly visible under her powder and it looked as if she had aged 10 years instead of two.
To fill the silence, my mother put a tune on the jukebox, and two my horror, she started dancing in front of the half-full café. The patron side-eyed her, as stunned as I was. It felt like a sick joke, and my embarrassment was the punch line. Any hope I had that she might have gained some stability was dashed. She was clearly unwell. I could do nothing but watch her dance with a stiff smile
As we ate, my other did most of the talking. She told me about how her daughter had been taken away by the government, and while that was devastating to hear, it didn’t surprise me. It was only a matter of time until the authorities noticed her neglect. And maybe the girls would actually be taken care of.
Up until this point, my mother hadn’t asked about me or my life. This isn’t completely unusual — I remember her complaining to me about my father or Mitru for hours back then. But I couldn’t understand why she had come all this way only to drown me in her miseries.
We walked to school and sat in a classroom. That’s when my mother noticed that gold chain I was wearing that Lydia had given to me. She guessed that my father must be in a relationship and she went into a fit of jealousy-fuel rage. And if that wasn’t enough, she told me that she had only a year to live until properly taken care of.
I felt sick. I knew why she had come to visit me — she only wanted my father back. I wanted to yell at her and ask, ‘Why don’t you care about me? Why are you like this?’
But I couldn’t. She is my mother, after all. I looked at her frail hands and watery eyes and felt a flood of guilt and sadness. Sadness, because of the disturbed, delusional state she is in — does she really think my father will take her back after everything that’s happened? I can imagine what my father will say when he hears about this: that their relationship will only end the way it did before because she is a ‘woman who loves men.’ I don’t know why I felt guilty, though; what could I have done to help her
After my mother left, I felt agitated and disturbed, and I told to headmaster not to allow her to visit again. As I’m writing this, I can’t sleep. I keep replaying the day’s events in my head: the way she grabbed my chain and the haunted look in her eyes.
I don’t understand how it’s possible to love, despise, miss, and sympathise with one person all at once. But I find that I can’t hold hate for mother. I know that she doesn’t always aim to hurt people, and I know that deep, deep down, she still loves me.
