The day my father passed away I was forced to phone Jaimison Alexander Fischer and inform him of the event. I didn't want to make the call but from the moment I had stepped through the front door of my father's unit he insisted that I call his other son. When dad finally breathed his last breath I gave him and made the call. Ringing your brother should be easy right? Wrong, you don't know my brother, hell even I don't know my brother anymore. However I wasn't at all surprised when he briefly spoke of his wife and children, I could hear the love and passion that he had for his family.

The lucky son of a bitch sounded like he had the perfect family, scratch that the perfect life. But I'm not surprised; he was the one that got everything growing up. He was the smart one who always got good grades in school, which made the old man proud of him. Not like Jaimison needed good grades to make him proud, he just was. Jaimison was always the perfect child even as a baby. He never even cried, me however could never be shut up. I think that if mum had been a live I would have turned into a total mummy's boy; my father was never able to control me.

It was so hard to get noticed at home; to start with I tried so hard. Doing the best I could at day care bringing home new pictures and all that sort of thing. But the old man didn't care; Jaimison could always do what I did but ten times better. The one thing I had over him was my sporting ability. I could run faster, jump higher and tackle better than anyone in my school. But the old man showed little to no interest and in the end I managed to loose that as well.

In the end I stopped trying for attention, it took me 14 years (I always was the slower learner of the two) but I finally gave up on seeking his attention. In fact I didn't want his attention; I'd joined a group of outcasts, a gang if you will. We spent more time with random acts of violence and getting high than we did attending school or trying hard at anything.

That was a year before Jaimison and I became mortal enemies. He was home sick one day when my mates and I happened to stumble in high as kites with chicks hanging off our arms. Jaimison was off his rocker, you could tell that it wasn't just my arrival that made him so angry. He went psycho on me, right in front of my friends as well. He said that I was stupid; I wasn't just ruining my own life but his as well. He went on to say that he liked living with dad, we had it good here and its actions like my current ones that were putting that life at risk. Jaimison said that at the moment dad was at a parent/teacher meeting because someone had rung family services and said we were in an inappropriate environment. Me, doing drugs and screwing whoever I felt like just made the matter worse.

In the end he promised not to tell our father what I was doing and I wasn't meant to come home like that again. Luckily the family services reports were dropped and we remained with our old man, though I barely spoke two words to Jaimison and he two words to me.

Now at 40 I look back on my life and I feel angry at Jaimison, my father but most of all myself. When I look back I see drug and alcohol abuse, a mediocre fighter pilot career, 3 failed marriages and 6 beautiful children. I love my children more than anything else in the world; I just wished they felt the same way. I have a child who doesn't know I exist, another who knows I exist yet has never met me, twins who don't want to see me, a teenager who hates my guts and out of all 6 only one takes the time to have a close relationship with me.

Lets start with my first marriage shall me? We got married at 19, it latest two years before she realised being married to a fighter pilot wasn't all it was cracked up to be. However we had a one year old daughter at the time we separated and for the sake of her we decided to remain in contact. Today that daughter is 20, and one of my closet friends. Kara, is in my eyes one of the most beautiful women in the world, however at the risk of getting slapped she like her mother could stand to loose a couple of kilos. Not that size matters or anything.

Cue my second marriage, we married as soon as the divorce from my first marriage was finalised and we were separated before my son was born. Hell we were separated before I even knew I was going to be a father again. If I'd known she was pregnant I would have tried a lot harder to keep the relationship together. By the time Sammy was born she was already with another bloke and they were just waiting for the finally divorce proceedings to go through so that they could get married. My ex came to me and said that Sammy had already warmed up to her new partner and maybe it would be for the best if I didn't have any contact with him. For some strange reason I agreed but started an on going battle for updates on how my son was. When he was old enough to go to school I would sit outside the gates and watch him grow up from a distance. But eventually he changed schools and the last picture his mother ever sent me was of when he was 10, he would have been 17 now.

Then there is my last wife, who is also the mother of my 4 youngest children. We were married for 13 years, with a 13 year old son twin 10 year old boys and a 3 year old daughter. Kyle my 13 year old hates my guts, I have disappointed him one too many times and when I haven't been disappointing him I've been an authoritarian figure using the removal of his favoured items as punishment. Michael and Mitchell (I wasn't the one who named them) seemed to have woken up one day and decided they didn't want to spent time with or have any contact with me, which really broke my heart since we used to get along really well. Then is little Jessica who even though she knows who her daddy is has never met me and her siblings and mother are doing everything to keep it that way.

I'm now dating potential wife number 4. Who since my last divorce was finalised has been pushing the marriage point. I'll probably marry her one day, only to stop her nagging and so that I have some chance of not dying alone.

And that's my family, dysfunctional and crazy, where once again Jaimison has the perfect family, probably living in a mansion while I live in this small flat. Dining on his posh American Cuisine with his model wife and perfect children, while I invade the cupboards and learn a million different ways to cook baked beans, wishing for my children to love me.

While speaking to my brother I automatically offered to pick him and his family up from the airport. Naturally over the next couple of days I freaked out deciding I wasn't going to pick them up, then I was, then I wasn't and so on. By the time their arrival date came about Kara had decided that she was going to drive me to the airport to pick them up. So that I wouldn't freak out and change my mind leaving them stranded.

It's a good thing that she did, because I nearly bolted when I looked over at the arrivals gate and saw 4 boys, a red headed lady and a man in a wheel chair arguing with the flight attendant who was pushing him. As the man turned his attention forward everything became slow motion like the in movies. For a split second I thought someone was holding a mirror and I was looking through it. Then I realised the man that had always had a perfect life was weary and paralysed.

Suddenly I had a flash to some years ago,

"Eli son I just rang to tell you, your brother was in a terrible accident, he lost his daughter and he's… I don't know how to say it… He's paralysed son"

"That's nice dad but I've got to go"

A/N: Ok… Long waits are not because I'm bad with updating it is because I'm back at uni and working my butt off while working on 3 stories… And surprisingly uni is more important.