The last picture I took with my father,
Was when I was in KG 2.
That was the only time we were close.

After that, he started working more.
And our financial situation got better.
He started treating me and my siblings really badly.
He would hit us and yell all the time.
He would give me money,
But with a touch of resentment.

He was very strict.
It made me very introverted at school.
I would sit at the back of the class, alone.
I had no friends.
The kids would hit me and take my lunch.

I was always the one at fault.
Even my mother would take his side.
Birthday celebrations were unheard of.
“Study! Study!” was all I ever heard.
I wasn’t allowed to go out,
Watch T.V.,
Talk to anyone,
Or even play football.
Everything was forbidden.
We had set hours for eating.
And if I was ever late after my private courses,
I’d surely get a beating.

In high school,
I had reached my limit.
I scored 45% because my father forced me to into the science track,
When I actually wanted to take the literature track.
In my last year of highschool,
I switched to the literature track.
I studied hard so I could get into the university I wanted.
I scored 95%.
“You’re still going to study computer science.”

I applied to the police and military academies behind my father’s back.
I was ecstatic when they transferred me to the air force.
But my father found out.
He didn’t want me to be away from him.
He wanted me to work with him in South Sinai.
He used his connections to get me rejected.
Out of spite,
I enrolled into the Faculty of Commerce’s open program in Port Said.

I took part in numerous activities,
And learned a lot of different things.
I even made friends.
I used to work with my father when I was young,
But I decided to start depending on myself.
With my savings,
And some borrowed money,
I opened a little cafe in Port Fouad.
I no longer needed money from anyone.
And I stopped taking an allowance from my parents.

Soon after, my father asked me,
“When are you going to come work with me again?”
I told him that I was happy doing what I was doing,
And that I wanted to stay there and expand my business.
I told him that I wanted to have my own business,
And build a life for myself in Port Said.
“No,” he said.
“You’re going to come back to work with me after you finish your education.
You’ll manage my shops,
And close down your cafe.”
And indeed, he did close down my cafe.

I stayed in bed for five days, unable to move.
I didn’t confront him with how I felt about what he did,
And how he treated me.
I only ever confronted him once before,
Which made him cry.
I thought I had finally gotten through to him,
Only to find him telling me,
“I cried because I’ve failed to raise you properly.
You’re ill-mannered.
I wish I had never let you go to college.
I should’ve made you stay here with me.
That way you wouldn’t have made friends,
Or gotten into all of this.”

I always ask how he’s doing now,
Tell him that I miss him,
And wish him a happy birthday.
I’m trying to connect with him.
I wish he’d understand how I feel.