Chapter Twenty Two

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Thinking: I've been doing a lot of it just lately.

When we deeply care about someone, I think we all begin to evaluate a lot about ourselves and our lives. That's what I've been finding myself doing; thinking a lot about my past, and definitely thinking about my future. Being in New York, has probably been the loneliest of times I think I've ever had. And when you're lonely; you think.

Clara has impacted on my life, so suddenly and so intensely, I've been churning things around, over and over in my head.

I know I want her. I want her so much, I just need her to want me enough in return—enough, that she'll choose to permanently stay. Two weeks of quality time with her, just isn't going to be enough. She's not even here yet, but I already know that. For her, I know I am willing to change. I'm willing to do so many things differently, because I've only recently realised something so very important—I've been very unhappy.

People think that fame and money can give you everything, but I'm living proof that it doesn't. For days now, I've been thinking a lot about me and Maci, and also about my father. I don't know why I've been thinking about him, I really don't. But Clara has brought many things to the surface for me. It's like having some kind of an emotional awakening. I also think that maybe the last conversation I had with Don, has raked up some shit about my dad.

I've been asking myself whether he'd be disappointed with me for always being so cold and unforgiving towards Maci, or would he understand my reasons for being that way?

Would he be proud of what I've become, or like Don, would he have wanted me to do something else?

Such stupid, stupid thoughts to so suddenly have, yet I've been having them regardless.

I really don't remember much of my dad, I was very young when he left us. But Maci, she was that little bit older, so she used to hold a few sweet memories of him. She would tell me how she always used to think that he was a king, that she worshipped the ground that he had walked on.

Maybe when he left, maybe that was the day that sealed my sister's future fate?

Maybe that is when something inside of her just switched itself off?

Mom never really liked to talk about our dad, but we always knew that dad had fell in love with another woman. He fell in love, then eventually left us all behind. By following his own heart, he damaged three others in the process. He never said where he was going and he never came back. When I first became famous, I wondered whether he would one day try to crawl out from my past, to try and financially gain from being my real father; but he never did.

In some strange way, I admire that.

Have I ever thought about trying to find out more about him?

Do I wonder whether he's dead or alive?

Sure. Sure I do.

But not enough to act upon my thoughts or my wonderings of him.

When Don first entered our lives, he put a comfortable roof over our heads, provided us with clothes and food, and ensured we had a good education. No matter how distant a man Don was, and still is, he's always been a good provider. Yeah, he had no idea how to be a caring or loving role model, but he was still a role model, nevertheless.

Again, I strangely admire that.

And I know that he loves my mother. She is the only person he is able to pour his love all over. Not in a romantic, over the top kind of way; it's more of a solid and loyal way. For my mom, she has always felt like she is truly his. Sadly, me and my sister have never felt that way. We have never felt like we were his or that we belonged to him. It's always felt that way, it probably always will feel that way. The sad truth is; Don just didn't know how to handle kids. His own upbringing was one with extremely aloof and unloving parents, so that nurturing side of him never really had the chance to ever grow and thrive. He didn't know how to express patience and understanding. He didn't know how to lovingly parent. It was just too hard for him to love two little people who didn't biologically belong to him. Having said that, Don was never cruel or abusive to us—just always offhand and indifferent. He put up with us and we just put up with him. That was the hand that the cards of life had dealt to us all, so we just had to try and deal with that hand. But it was me who always dealt with it far better, Maci always struggled.

Mom did her absolute best, she really did. She always tried to give us what we didn't get from both our father and Don. It was always enough for me. I didn't need the love of my father and I certainly didn't need Don's.

But Maci, she did.

So when things got real serious between mom and Don, Maci rebelled. That was the beginning of her downward spiral. The beginning of all her problems. And I've been thinking a lot about that, too. I've been thinking that maybe I should just cut my sister some slack? Maybe start really trying to be more sympathetic to her problems? With that guiltily in my mind, I called the rehab in Pasadena, requesting more frequent updates on Maci's progress. It's not much, I know, but it's a start. For so long now, I have loathed all that my sister has become, but I'm going to try to be a better brother. To try and loathe her less and to try and love her some more. It's not going to be easy, but I'm going to give it a damn good try. I'm so tired of constantly fighting against Maci and her addiction. I'm tired of feeling lonely and of feeling unhappy. Clara is making me see myself through new and critical eyes.

She makes me less angry.

She makes me less lonely.

She makes me happy.

So, I'm holding onto that.

I'm going to hold onto her.

I'm going to hold onto her and never let her go.

Never.

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