They were technically my host-parents, but having the word ‘parent’ in the title is insulting to my real parents, and even the term ‘housemate’ implies that they were my friends; let’s just say they were people that I had the extreme misfortune of cohabitating with for the longest 4 months of my life. The husband, Burt, was of a medium build with bushy everything; his hair was so full it looked like an ill-fitted wig and his eyebrows and moustache appeared to be 3 giant hairy caterpillars that were devouring his face. Margaret was about 5 foot nothing in both directions – almost perfectly round – with a hooked nose and beady eyes. Even to look at them wasn’t a pleasurable experience.
The first thing they showed me was a framed photograph of a previous student that they had taken in a few years prior. They almost salivated when talking about her and pointing to the photo on the wall. It was particularly odd since I knew they had 4 grown children – to which none of them owned any photographic real estate on their walls. I should have known right then that I was never going to live up to this apparently perfect girl they had live with them previously. It was downhill from the moment I walked through the door.
The strange part was that I hadn’t even done anything to trigger the hatred that was focused upon me, except for being Canadian, apparently. Burt hated all things American – and to him, I was guilty by association. (Why they hell would you agree to take in a student from a part of the world you hate in the first place?!) I wasn’t allowed to watch anything on TV that was American, which didn’t really leave much to watch apart from ‘Neighbours’ and the Cricket. I think even hearing my accent angered him, because he would snap at me and cut me off mid-sentence whenever he got the chance. The ironic part was that he was the nicer one of the pair!
Margaret was the one that was home the most, and the one I would unfortunately have to go to for permission to do anything. After a few verbally abusive confrontations early on in my stay (for things as simple as asking for a ride to my basketball game), I quickly learned that I needed to give them at least 3-4 days notice if I required anything from them. Knowing that, this one instance I did give the allotted 4 days notice and it still wasn’t enough. Margaret huffed and grunted the entire way to the car, muttering angry things under her breath just enough that I couldn’t decipher it. After she squeezed herself into the car and we were about ½ way to the gym, I realized I miscalculated and was 5 cents short for my admission fee... 5 CENTS! Oh crap! I dreaded having to ask her, but I had no other choice.
“FIRST YOU MAKE ME DRIVE YOU ALL THE WAY TO YOUR GAME AND NOW YOU WANT ME TO GIVE YOU MONEY? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU THINK THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD REVOLVES AROUND YOU, MISSY, BUT IT DOESN’T! YOU ARE THE MOST SELFISH, UNGRATEFUL GIRL I HAVE EVER MET AND YOU DISGUST ME!”
I started to cry and I knew she was taking pleasure in that. She violently rummaged into her purse when we arrived at the sports’ complex and threw a 5 cent piece at my face. In defence, I turned my face away so it would hit my cheek and it fell to my lap. Can you believe it? I even said, “Thank you!”
There were parts of their home life that were fucked up long before I came around as well. The fridge was full of food that was all labelled as to whom it belonged to – even the fruit! Shockingly (sarcasm), nothing ever had my name on it. The only thing I was allowed to eat was what was put on my plate. I made the catastrophic mistake of drinking one of Margaret’s diet sodas one day – and she made me go and buy SIX to replace the ONE I drank.
I was stuck with this family during the worst part of the year – which included Christmas, New Years and my birthday. It was so depressing! I missed my mom so much! I shared a room with their second youngest daughter, who was 23, and she was a complete mental case as well – a whole other story! During the holidays, I spent as much time as possible at friends’ homes. One night I forgot my house key and although 4 of them were sitting in the living room watching TV, they made me sit on the porch for 2 hours to ‘teach me a lesson’; it was pouring rain.
to be continued...
The first thing they showed me was a framed photograph of a previous student that they had taken in a few years prior. They almost salivated when talking about her and pointing to the photo on the wall. It was particularly odd since I knew they had 4 grown children – to which none of them owned any photographic real estate on their walls. I should have known right then that I was never going to live up to this apparently perfect girl they had live with them previously. It was downhill from the moment I walked through the door.
The strange part was that I hadn’t even done anything to trigger the hatred that was focused upon me, except for being Canadian, apparently. Burt hated all things American – and to him, I was guilty by association. (Why they hell would you agree to take in a student from a part of the world you hate in the first place?!) I wasn’t allowed to watch anything on TV that was American, which didn’t really leave much to watch apart from ‘Neighbours’ and the Cricket. I think even hearing my accent angered him, because he would snap at me and cut me off mid-sentence whenever he got the chance. The ironic part was that he was the nicer one of the pair!
Margaret was the one that was home the most, and the one I would unfortunately have to go to for permission to do anything. After a few verbally abusive confrontations early on in my stay (for things as simple as asking for a ride to my basketball game), I quickly learned that I needed to give them at least 3-4 days notice if I required anything from them. Knowing that, this one instance I did give the allotted 4 days notice and it still wasn’t enough. Margaret huffed and grunted the entire way to the car, muttering angry things under her breath just enough that I couldn’t decipher it. After she squeezed herself into the car and we were about ½ way to the gym, I realized I miscalculated and was 5 cents short for my admission fee... 5 CENTS! Oh crap! I dreaded having to ask her, but I had no other choice.
“FIRST YOU MAKE ME DRIVE YOU ALL THE WAY TO YOUR GAME AND NOW YOU WANT ME TO GIVE YOU MONEY? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU THINK THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD REVOLVES AROUND YOU, MISSY, BUT IT DOESN’T! YOU ARE THE MOST SELFISH, UNGRATEFUL GIRL I HAVE EVER MET AND YOU DISGUST ME!”
I started to cry and I knew she was taking pleasure in that. She violently rummaged into her purse when we arrived at the sports’ complex and threw a 5 cent piece at my face. In defence, I turned my face away so it would hit my cheek and it fell to my lap. Can you believe it? I even said, “Thank you!”
There were parts of their home life that were fucked up long before I came around as well. The fridge was full of food that was all labelled as to whom it belonged to – even the fruit! Shockingly (sarcasm), nothing ever had my name on it. The only thing I was allowed to eat was what was put on my plate. I made the catastrophic mistake of drinking one of Margaret’s diet sodas one day – and she made me go and buy SIX to replace the ONE I drank.
I was stuck with this family during the worst part of the year – which included Christmas, New Years and my birthday. It was so depressing! I missed my mom so much! I shared a room with their second youngest daughter, who was 23, and she was a complete mental case as well – a whole other story! During the holidays, I spent as much time as possible at friends’ homes. One night I forgot my house key and although 4 of them were sitting in the living room watching TV, they made me sit on the porch for 2 hours to ‘teach me a lesson’; it was pouring rain.
to be continued...
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