I’m enjoying this in a weird way. I guess it’s because no one I’ve ever told had a father like mine. I don’t think I ever told anyone until high school. My best friend in high school’s father was an alcoholic, but her experience was very different than yours and mine.
I love the way you describe your situation as if you are there now. It’s much more riveting than the way I write because I feel so removed from it all. I used to tell these stories to psychiatrists, and I remember smiling out of embarrassment while they had tears in their eyes.
I think my best writing is comedy. Read these two about my mother. She was a real character:
A Call from My Mom
Hello? (Pause) Oh hello, Mom. How did you know I was here? (Pause) Oh, you didn’t? (pause) No, I’m not in L.A. We’re in…
Aches and Pains
Oh, darling, when I heard the doorbell ring, I just knew it would be you! Have you been outside for very long, darling…
The photo is of my mom (right) when she was in an off Broadway show around 1939. She was always heavily into denial like yours.