6/22/17
In which August remembers his father
Today, since we drew the Father of Pentacles, August is soberly recalling his own father, a man he sees as the epitome of materialism. The man worked constantly as a bookkeeper and August barely remembers him. The one vivid memory he does have is the night he told August he was sending him to boarding school. Iāll tell it the way August does, but keep in mind August has a ghostly tendency to muddle things. It goes like this:
The night my last nanny, Mrs. Eunice, quit and absconded due to my having used her good shawl to wrap a brine ham in, my father returned home late from work. He was drunk on gin and in a foul mood. My father had furry, stoat-like eyebrows that wriggled as he spoke. He stepped through the door and handed his coat to the maid, his eyebrows were down and nearly touched his nose.
āAugust, Iāve been told the news,ā he growled and grabbed me by the hair, gin spilled out of his mouth and splashed on his shirt. I thought him to be rather filled with it. Like it had replaced all his vitals and now he was just a fleshy flask of stinking, grumpy gin. Grumpy gin with eyebrows as garnish.
āIām sorry, Father,ā I said, as was customary. He roared and tossed me aside, gin spit fizzled on my hot skin. I wasnāt sorry. I was just angry. My father was a gin git and how did he have any right to bawl at me? He was much more disgraceful than I, a mere imp. I looked up long enough to see his eyebrows shaking at me.
āYou are banned from this house! Iām sending you to boarding school. I am unfortunately honor bound by society to leave you my small fortune, this pains me, but I can at least be done with you. Now get out of my sight,ā he growled. āYou are to leave first thing in the morning.ā Gin bubbled out his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He lapped it up with slavering lips. Canāt waste any gin. His eyebrows hovered over the gin droplets like useless umbrellas, letting in all the rain.
I was nine.
He worked steadily until he was an old, old man and his eyebrows were gray. Gin turned his hair white and his skin spotty. Had he any imagination he certainly could have discovered a way to keep his fortune from me. As it was, the money was not insignificant, I spent much of it moving to California. I have no idea what happened to my sisters, but God willing, it was unpleasant.
Hopefully he forgets these memories someday. I do want to look up his sisters thoughā¦