I was fifteen when mum cheated on dad. Two years later dad and I moved back to the city to get rid of the sad, bad memories we had of the house. Dad cleaned houses to pay off her debts and keep us afloat also get me through university. He wouldn’t let me get a part-time job to pay my way. He’d say the study is too important. Cleaning is a come-down from his previous job, eighteen years before, as a receptionist in a doctor’s surgery, but this was all he could get. He tells me there was more honour in scrubbing other people’s floors than in having strangers scrub your own. But it doesn’t convince me. The only thing worse was him having to kneel every day in someone’s mouldy shower it was even worse having to help him do it. Some days, between lectures, I would go help him. I hated it. There were also many other times when I could have gone and didn’t. I stayed home and…show more content… Dad did not steal it cause I would have seen it at home. He came home that afternoon with a two-day notice. He stayed in the back shed on the boxing bag till dinner was ready. Since mum leaving we never really express our feelings to ensure nothing happens we go out the back and cam down with some boxing. We never really fought but when he got asked to go back to the same place we are always eating each other's heads off. The morning he was returning to the place I was still yelling at him, even while we were across the hall in the house. I was a twenty-two-year-old Doctor of medicine student I didn’t have time to continue fighting. I yelled across the hall “ Dad why do this to yourself it is so stupid” Dad never liked yelling so if he would it was soft I just get out of his sentence “ I do not care what you think I'm doing this for us” I just continued to get ready cause I'm sick of
