The Art Teacher

My Dad is dead, or so they say. I haven’t seen him in many days. He use to be here but now he’s gone, where to, I do not know. He signed my passport application when I was three and then he walked away and I’ve never seen him since. Is he dead or has he just left? I’ve wasted many days wondering where he is. The older I got the more I thought of him, but now, after so many years I don’t think I care. I don’t care where he is and I don’t care who he is and yet whenever I hear him mentioned I always stop to listen.

They say I look just like him, they say I speak the same, they say I draw like him. I don’t know, I can’t remember him. I don’t know what he looks like or how he sounds and I’ve never seen his drawings. I use to ask about him, I wanted to see him in my mind, but I could never get the image quite right. I don’t even know his real name. I do know his adopted name. I tried to find him once, but Missing Persons said there were no recent records of him, not even a tax return.

My Mum always said he wanted to go ‘underground’, I guess he managed it. His friends think he is dead, except one of them, who says he saw him walking through Rundle Mall last week. I know I don’t care anymore though, even if I do stop to listen to them speak.