Childhood Trips and Secrets
Chapter 1: The Road Trips That Weren’t Holidays
When I was young, I remember holidays but not the kind with celebration or joy. These holidays were trips, often hastily planned and void of any real comfort. I’d sit in the backseat, CDs stacked behind the seat: Aqua, Sum 41, So Fresh Summer hits. My mother drove, my sister sat in the front, and I handed out drinks, if we had them. Sometimes we didn’t. She budgeted for fuel and maybe the stay, but not food or extras. And these weren’t family vacations. These were trips to meet men she found online.
Sometimes we didn’t. Mum only budgeted for fuel and accommodation. No frills. No planning for us. These weren’t family trips, they were missions. Missions to meet someone new she’d connected with online.
Looking back, you'd think, “Well, she tried to make it work.” But it never felt like it was about us. It wasn’t about connection. It was about escape and selfish desires.
Chapter 2: Swansea and the Fish Without Bait
One trip I remember was to Swansea, where we stayed on a man’s sailing boat. We fished off the back deck while we tried to act normal. I caught a fish with no bait just casting for practice. It was strange, how that tiny victory with the fish stuck with me. Casting into the water, over and over, with no bait, just muscle memory and patience and still, something bit. It felt like the universe saw me for a moment. Like I could catch something real, even in a sea of lies. But while I was focused on the line, my mother was below deck, disappearing into someone else’s world. I wanted to believe this trip meant something, that maybe we were being included, but deep down I knew that we were just along for her ride with her new flavor of the month, and we were background noise to her performance of being a mum.
Chapter 3: Swan Hill and the Burger Menu
Then there was Swan Hill, clearly, she had a thing for towns with “Swan” in the name. But this trip felt different.
We drove all the way to the border of Victoria and New South Wales, long highways with nothing but dry paddocks and open skies. When we got there, we stayed in a house, not a motel or boat. It felt... more stable.
The man had children, younger than us. We played, we ate well, we weren’t completely invisible for once. I didn’t have to cook for basic food for myself. It felt like we were being cared for. Like a taste of normal, but deep down, I knew it was pretend, it was all an act, a trial run for playing house while my mother basked in attention.
Still, I remember the burger shop. It stood out. One of the only places we were allowed to choose something just for us. The hot dog and burger menu had maybe 30 options. All with silly, creative names. It felt like a reward, but no it was a breadcrumb of childhood tucked into chaos.
Chapter 4: When the Secrets Became a Stage
The secrets didn’t stay behind the screen. They never do.
At first, it was just whispers through a closed bedroom door. Late-night giggles, the click-clack of a keyboard, and my mother’s screen glowing through the darkness. We thought she was just “on the computer.” But slowly, that screen became her escape—her entire world. Her identity online wasn’t “Mum.” It was WEE-FAIRY.
She was part of a group I’ll never forget, even if I can’t remember their full name. What I do remember are their voices echoing from her speakers, her video chats with people who knew her only in fragments, and a host named Bushy. I remember the thrill in her voice when she talked to them. The way she’d disappear emotionally—even when she was just a room away.
Chapter 5: Recruited into Her Shame
It wasn’t just what I saw, it was what I was dragged into.
One night, she asked for help. They were playing some kind of adult game, and she needed to collect random items for it. A ping pong ball. Other things I don’t even want to remember. I didn’t understand fully, but I knew it wasn’t innocent.
She made me part of it, And that’s the cruelty in it. I wasn’t just neglected. I was enlisted. Then came the day it wasn’t just online anymore.