All The Best Cowboys Have Daddy Problems: Chapter 1 Pt i “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina Chapter 1, line 1. Stetson wandered over to the car. The raised voices behind were no concern. He was as happy as a four-year old could be, walking around the garden; everything a new and wonderful experience. A bright winter sun gleamed on crisp, white snow and made Stetson’s reflection in the window stand out. He started waving at himself laughing in the bubbly way of a child, innocent and immune to the real world. Stetson shed the big parka jacket he was wearing allowing it to freely fall into the soft duvet of snow surrounding him unhindered. With the intent of child-like havok. At that moment, the snow seemed more exciting than his reflection. Bouncing around like a cricket on steroids, he destroyed the perfect, untouched snow: making snow angels; or sending a cloud of snow upwards, pretending it was really snowing. The volume of the voices escalated. Stetson stopped, worried. He knew something bad was going to happen. No-one had shouted yet, a good sign, but inevitabilities stay inevitabilities and Stetson figured something would happen. Looking around, a patch of the garden remained untouched, so he made his way over. The patch was situated outside the small kitchen window, next to the flower patch. It was here that the only splash of colour could be found (bar the blue estate car, driven haphazardly into a makeshift driveway); Poinsettias, a deep, vivid crimson, lived in the flower bed. It was Mum’s pride and joy. Everyone else in the neighbourhood had tried, and failed to grow the notoriously difficult plant, but somehow, she succeeded. Stetson loved them, the rich colour and large leaves; and the fact they blossomed during winter, when all else dies. Fractions of the conversation grazed his ears “Why do you even bother, just keep the kid!” The assertive voice could have cut like a knife. Stetson looked up from the flowers momentarily, and then proceeded to ignore whatever the adults were doing. “He doesn’t even need to see him! Did he ever show interest when you were married?” The same voice urged. Stetson grew tired of hearing arguments. He skipped away, slightly annoyed at being disturbed by their arguing, but still in high spirits. Stetson loved the snow. It was one thing he was ultimately fascinated about. Last year, he spent days, staring out the window at the magical compound falling from a granite sky. A chill wind blew, sending sprays of snow off the roofs of nearby houses. Clouds rolled over, coating the sky in a cataclysmic veil, as the temperature plummeted. Stetson meandered over to his jacket, hastily discarded, before picking it up, and reattaching it to his body. It provided meagre shelter against the buffeting wind. “Stetson! Honey, come in! We’re going.” The sickly sweet voice of his Mum called. Upon arrival in the kitchen, a suitcase of proportionate size to Stetson was thrust into his arms, but not before being scooped up and turning into an airplane at the hands of Aaron, dad-in-waiting. He was kind enough and made Stetson feel special, had something of a fine-tuned moral compass, but he always spent more time with Stetson’s mother than he did with Stetson. The slow rumble of fuel igniting in the pressurised container of an engine broke the magic between Aaron and his airplane. They jogged out together smiling, although sadness could be detected in Aaron’s greyish-blue eyes. Spinning around three hundred and sixty degrees Aaron slammed the key into the lock of the front door twisting twice, until it could twist no longer, before finally sprinting a few metres behind Stetson letting him scramble into the car and scream “I beat you!” as Aaron launched into the front passenger seat. He secured his seatbelt and leaned over to Stetson’s mum and pecked her on the cheek after whispering something secret in her ear. “Stetson, look at the snow!” Aaron exclaimed, obviously wanting to take Stetson’s attention off the tear that slid down his mum’s face or the crimson outline of her eyes or the estuaries of red radiating towards her pupils. Stetson saw it all. Imprinted memories, engraved upon a blank slate. The car pulled out of the drive and weaved its way through the network of roads that made up the spiderweb of suburban travel routes. Indie music pulsated through the small car stereo, intoxicating Stetson into a sweet lullaby of rolling drum rhythms and smooth guitar licks. Lights flew past like shooting stars breaking through the wall of falling ice which surrounded them as they turned off onto the motorway. It lasted a few seconds. Then it was over. Little diamonds flew from the window as the truck plowed through the side of the car. It didn’t stand a chance, the chassis may as well have been made out of cardboard. Metal shards lacerated everything that stood in their way. Stetson glanced up at Aaron as he flung his arms around his face in a feeble attempt to protect himself. Stetson’s vision blurred and screams drowned out his thoughts. Pain seared through his body, blackening his vision. The last thing Stetson saw; his mother’s head, contorted in pain, covered in blood. Then, the roof caved in. The screaming stopped. Abruptly. ***