Dead Bat

7 06 2015

Later that same day my dad also received a call from Mort.  He was calling from the hospital and asked my dad to pick him up and give him a ride back to where he was staying all the while making demands and threats about money. Dad obliged, took him to the seedy hotel (long drop from when he was staying in 5 star hotels!) and gave him some cash and also made a deposit to his account.  He was by this stage missing a front tooth, no doubt left behind during his ‘holiday time’ in Portland.

It is at this point that most would think (and I certainly wanted to) completely ignore him and not respond to any communication what-so-ever.  A little context should be shared.  Around this same time, there was an article in the newspaper about a lovely, seemingly happy and well-to-do family that lived in a suburb not far from mine. The husband, around the same age as Mort, somehow got into some serious drugs.  Parallel to my scenario as soon as the wife realised she threw him out of the family home to protect her children.  Only he didn’t just stop with harassing phone calls.  He turned up to the family home and stabbed her to death.

There is a cricketing term called ‘dead bat’.  This is a strategic manoeuvre whereby the bat is held with a light grip such that it gives when the ball strikes it, and the ball loses momentum and falls to the ground.

To this point Mort had not turned up at the house or at the girls school and we desperately wanted it to stay that way.

Nonetheless, Mort wanted to be heard, he wanted to rant.  And so my dad would listen with a ‘dead bat’.  Never provoking, neutral not defending or attacking, just listening and responding with non-committal words and sounds. This would take the momentum out of Mort’s strike.

My dad put himself in this position to ensure that the girls and I didn’t end up as a front page news story.


Threats and dining tables

4 06 2015

Then came the dreaded call in the early hours of 13 June.  The moment I heard his voice I felt like hot concrete had been poured into my marrow.  I was rooted to the spot and I instantly broke into a cold sweat.  There wasn’t a trace of slurring, his voice was calm and measured with a sting.

He said that he had enjoyed some holiday time away and was back bearing ‘big guns’. The guns being inferred legal strength to start causing (yet more) havoc in my life.  I made it clear that I wasn’t going to be going for anything in terms of alimony etc. I wanted nothing from him (except my peace). It seemed to be fine to him that I wasn’t going to try to take anything from him, but he was sure going to try to take from me.

He started ranting about the dining table that we had purchased before the great unravelling and the air conditioning that we had installed. After a few minutes of this he then said, and the girls, I have rights. This was the first time through all this that he had made the slightest reference to the girls.

His priorities were interesting.

dining table