Never Gonna Get it
This is about a young Vietnamese boy who moves from his loved orphanage in North Vietnam to his foster parents' home in the Darwin rural area.
Sometimes you can run from the truth, but you can’t hide from it. It eats at you and eats at you until eventually, it destroys you. I’m Peter Farina, straight from North Vietnam (I know, it sucks, I’d love to be somewhere else for a change!) and I absolutely hate my life. I’m about 19 years old and I already want to kill myself. I hate my life and I hate the people that I’m forced to hang around all the time.
My parents are you average bunch of Aussie whackos. They both love to get out there and get their hands all bloodied up and mangled, chopping up firewood and fixing up the barbed wire fences around our house and shooting wild animals that come too close to our livestock.
In actual truth, they aren’t my real parents. My real parents died when I was first born. My current parents adopted me from Vietnam a couple of years back. I haven’t adjusted to my new home at all. I miss the jungle scrub and bamboo plantations I had grown up around all my life back in North Vietnam. I miss the music back there, I miss walking through the rice patty fields, helping my orphanage carer out in the fields on a hot summer’s day. Out of all that, what I miss the most is my best friend, Lee Hawker. We met when I was five and have been friends for 14 long years. I miss him like crazy. I write to him and text message him, sure, but it’s not the same as having him right there beside me. My foster parents said that once I get settled into Australia a bit, he may be able to come over and visit sometime. I just nodded and shrugged my shoulders. The day I have Lee come over to Australia and stay will be the day that hell freezes over. In other words, it’ll never happen.
My foster father’s name is Franklin Morison. Everyone calls him Frankie though, so that’s what I call him. He’s about 22 years old and works for the military. He has brunette hair, fair skin and blue eyes. He’s pretty rough-looking and is never really home. I don’t often see him. He spends most of his time at the RAF base, teaching people between 19 and 40 how to become a fighter pilot and training them up for the military. He’s not too bad to hang around. Actually, he’s pretty nice.
My foster mother’s a real handful. She always wears overalls over the top of a pair of jeans and a flannelette long sleeved shirt. She mainly tends to our livestock and horses that I sometimes ride, but other than that, she doesn’t do anything else. She has long wavy blonde hair and blue eyes and tanned skin. She only ever ties her hair back when she’s working with the horses or ridding them. She doesn’t have a job. She sometimes jokes around and says that looking after me is the only job she needs, but I secretly agree with her. I can be a bit of a handful at times.
Anyway, back to the story. I’d decided to talk to Lee via facebook. I got out my mobile phone and after checking if I had enough credit left on my phone, I connected to the internet. After a few seconds, my facebook page came up. I logged in and checked my messages. There was one message from Lee. Here’s what it said:
Hey Pete,
How have you been lately? I’m good, just on facebook at the moment.
Well, I hope you’ve met some new friends and don’t miss me too much. Who knows, maybe one day you could come back over here and visit me. Maybe it could be the other way round too. I could come over to Australia and visit you.
Things have been the same since you left about 2 years ago. The only thing that’s really changed is the house we live in. My parents, mainly dad, have been renovating it bit by bit. I don’t know if you remember the old bathroom we had and the leaky bath and taps we had in it, but we fixed that up. We have a much better bath and the taps that dad and his college, Miros Haskin, installed are great! They don’t leak anymore and our water bills aren’t as high anymore.
How’s Australia Pete? I’ve always wanted to travel to Australia. I’m jealous of you, you’re so lucky to be able to be in Australia. I bet that you miss Vietnam though. Have your foster parents been nice to you? I hope they have. I also hope that you haven’t been too much of a hassle for them.
Well, I’ve got to go now and help my dad with the tiling in one of the sunrooms. I’ll talk to you next time you’re no facebook.
Catch you later,
Yours truthfully,
Lee Hawker
I sighed as I wrote my reply back to him. I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes as I reminded myself of the old bathroom Lee’s family used to have. It wasn’t a very good one, very old and the tiles used to lift up when you walked on them. The bathtub was a horror to try and fill if you wanted a nice warm bath. The taps had to be turned off really tight, otherwise they would leak. I missed those taps. I reflected back on the times I spent with Lee. I thought back to the hot summer days and how we’d go down to the waterhole at the back of his Aunty Jeri’s house and swim in the crystal clear water.
I thought about all of that as I typed my reply:
Things aren’t too bad over here in Australia. Yesterday, I helped my foster mother, Kylie out with the horses. She won’t let me ride them, even though I’ve told her that I’m an excellent rider. She says that they’re too high-strung for me to ride until they get used to me a little more.
How are things over there in Vietnam? It’s good that you’ve renovated the bathroom. That bath tub was a horror to try and fill when you wanted a nice hot bath!
I miss you like crazy. I was just thinking about you. I was thinking about the time that we went down to your Aunty Jeri’s house and we swam in the really clear waterhole down there. I miss those swims. I go swimming at the beach in Darwin, but it’s not the same as swimming with you.
My foster parents are real nice. Frankie’s usually away at the RAF base not too far from where I am, so I don’t see much of him, but Kylie’s always home, either horse riding or tending to the cattle or fixing the barbed wire fences that we use to keep the livestock in.
Good luck with the tiling and tell me how it went.
Yours truthfully,
Peter Morrison
I sighed as I pressed the “send message” button on the touch screen of my I-phone. A few minutes later, a message on my phone came up, notifying me that the message h
My parents are you average bunch of Aussie whackos. They both love to get out there and get their hands all bloodied up and mangled, chopping up firewood and fixing up the barbed wire fences around our house and shooting wild animals that come too close to our livestock.
In actual truth, they aren’t my real parents. My real parents died when I was first born. My current parents adopted me from Vietnam a couple of years back. I haven’t adjusted to my new home at all. I miss the jungle scrub and bamboo plantations I had grown up around all my life back in North Vietnam. I miss the music back there, I miss walking through the rice patty fields, helping my orphanage carer out in the fields on a hot summer’s day. Out of all that, what I miss the most is my best friend, Lee Hawker. We met when I was five and have been friends for 14 long years. I miss him like crazy. I write to him and text message him, sure, but it’s not the same as having him right there beside me. My foster parents said that once I get settled into Australia a bit, he may be able to come over and visit sometime. I just nodded and shrugged my shoulders. The day I have Lee come over to Australia and stay will be the day that hell freezes over. In other words, it’ll never happen.
My foster father’s name is Franklin Morison. Everyone calls him Frankie though, so that’s what I call him. He’s about 22 years old and works for the military. He has brunette hair, fair skin and blue eyes. He’s pretty rough-looking and is never really home. I don’t often see him. He spends most of his time at the RAF base, teaching people between 19 and 40 how to become a fighter pilot and training them up for the military. He’s not too bad to hang around. Actually, he’s pretty nice.
My foster mother’s a real handful. She always wears overalls over the top of a pair of jeans and a flannelette long sleeved shirt. She mainly tends to our livestock and horses that I sometimes ride, but other than that, she doesn’t do anything else. She has long wavy blonde hair and blue eyes and tanned skin. She only ever ties her hair back when she’s working with the horses or ridding them. She doesn’t have a job. She sometimes jokes around and says that looking after me is the only job she needs, but I secretly agree with her. I can be a bit of a handful at times.
Anyway, back to the story. I’d decided to talk to Lee via facebook. I got out my mobile phone and after checking if I had enough credit left on my phone, I connected to the internet. After a few seconds, my facebook page came up. I logged in and checked my messages. There was one message from Lee. Here’s what it said:
Hey Pete,
How have you been lately? I’m good, just on facebook at the moment.
Well, I hope you’ve met some new friends and don’t miss me too much. Who knows, maybe one day you could come back over here and visit me. Maybe it could be the other way round too. I could come over to Australia and visit you.
Things have been the same since you left about 2 years ago. The only thing that’s really changed is the house we live in. My parents, mainly dad, have been renovating it bit by bit. I don’t know if you remember the old bathroom we had and the leaky bath and taps we had in it, but we fixed that up. We have a much better bath and the taps that dad and his college, Miros Haskin, installed are great! They don’t leak anymore and our water bills aren’t as high anymore.
How’s Australia Pete? I’ve always wanted to travel to Australia. I’m jealous of you, you’re so lucky to be able to be in Australia. I bet that you miss Vietnam though. Have your foster parents been nice to you? I hope they have. I also hope that you haven’t been too much of a hassle for them.
Well, I’ve got to go now and help my dad with the tiling in one of the sunrooms. I’ll talk to you next time you’re no facebook.
Catch you later,
Yours truthfully,
Lee Hawker
I sighed as I wrote my reply back to him. I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes as I reminded myself of the old bathroom Lee’s family used to have. It wasn’t a very good one, very old and the tiles used to lift up when you walked on them. The bathtub was a horror to try and fill if you wanted a nice warm bath. The taps had to be turned off really tight, otherwise they would leak. I missed those taps. I reflected back on the times I spent with Lee. I thought back to the hot summer days and how we’d go down to the waterhole at the back of his Aunty Jeri’s house and swim in the crystal clear water.
I thought about all of that as I typed my reply:
Things aren’t too bad over here in Australia. Yesterday, I helped my foster mother, Kylie out with the horses. She won’t let me ride them, even though I’ve told her that I’m an excellent rider. She says that they’re too high-strung for me to ride until they get used to me a little more.
How are things over there in Vietnam? It’s good that you’ve renovated the bathroom. That bath tub was a horror to try and fill when you wanted a nice hot bath!
I miss you like crazy. I was just thinking about you. I was thinking about the time that we went down to your Aunty Jeri’s house and we swam in the really clear waterhole down there. I miss those swims. I go swimming at the beach in Darwin, but it’s not the same as swimming with you.
My foster parents are real nice. Frankie’s usually away at the RAF base not too far from where I am, so I don’t see much of him, but Kylie’s always home, either horse riding or tending to the cattle or fixing the barbed wire fences that we use to keep the livestock in.
Good luck with the tiling and tell me how it went.
Yours truthfully,
Peter Morrison
I sighed as I pressed the “send message” button on the touch screen of my I-phone. A few minutes later, a message on my phone came up, notifying me that the message h
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