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Auteur Narrative

Since I was a child, I’d always wondered what it would be like having a father. Everyone else had one. I used to sit for ages at times to think how fun it would be to have someone to go on fishing trips with or just to play with. I felt odd when kids at school talked about what their fathers had bought them and what they did with them on the weekend. It was strange. I did feel pretty left out but it wasn’t as if my mother didn’t try at all. I thought she tried pretty hard to play both roles in the play. But it just wasn’t the same.
It all started when I was about seven. My innocence meant that my mother took for granted I didn’t need a father. When overhearing my mother’s conversations, I would often hear her colleagues tell her that I needed a father or a more masculine figure in my life. They tried and tried to get my mother dating but it didn’t work at all. She went out to dinner with this man who I had never seen and he turned out to be a thief with a really bad criminal record. After that, my mother never saw men. She was an artist but she didn’t earn much so she had a second job at a bakery.
I was nearly eight years old when she saw the effects of this. In stories at school I couldn’t write about fathers. But she didn’t know about these kinds of things until my first ever speaking competition and my encouraging mother did everything she could to come and watch me. It was quite daunting. In the class rounds I did pretty badly. So I did everything I could because I had never spoken in front of a big audience before. I practiced nearly everyday and onn the day, I wasn’t scared at all. My mother felt pretty confident that I had a good chance of winning. She told me I was great. I stood confused. Every mother has to say that to her child.
My name was called first as I was the youngest of the finalists. I carefully walked to the hat at the far corner of the stage. I closed my eyes and picked one of the bottom ones hoping...

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