Today is the fifth anniversary of the death of Ball’s father from alcoholism. He was 39.
He was father to his three other children too, of course, but I know them all through Ball, the first member of the family I met.
Ball's memories of when his father left them are vague. Previously he has told me it happened about three years ago.
Yesterday, I asked his mother when the anniversary was coming up, as I knew it was soon. 'Tomorrow...and it's the fifth year since he left us,' she said.
Today Mum and the kids rose early to make merit in honour of their father’s memory. They were to make food offerings to the monks on their morning alms round.
Mum prepared food offerings, which she and the family were to put in the monks’ bowls. The monks offer a prayer in return.
Mum called me at 6.30. She had just fed the monks; the kids were about to follow.
‘Mali, there’s no need for you to come, as you are Christian. Let the kids do it, to honour their Dad.’
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Ball has now told his mother that he is a father-to-be.
Ball’s girlfriend Jay discovered recently that she is pregnant, but at first Ball said nothing.
He found a quiet moment a few days ago when he was alone with his mother to tell her. As he expected, she took the news in her stride.
‘I am already exhausted...maybe you should put me in an elderly person’s home,’ she joked.
Ball and Jay have started discussing the future, and how their lives will change.
They are making plans to improve their bedroom – a place where they will have to spend more of their time, once the child is born.
The bedroom has a hole in one wall, and needs a lick of paint.
The roof is also in a sad state: while no rain gets in, it contains a large opening to the alleyway outside. Noise from the neighbourhood travels into their room.
They also need a new mattress, and want to buy a fold-out divider, like Ball’s elder sister has outside her room next to theirs.
Ball’s sister Kae and her partner have a son, aged about 15 months. They leave the company of the family to retire to the privacy of their room whenever the boy needs a sleep, or is being unruly.
When their child is born, Ball and Jay expect they will have to do the same, so want to make the living space comfortable in preparation for the big day, which should fall next May.
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Ball knows his life will change once he becomes a dad.
‘I cannot carry on like I am,’ he says. 'I drink heavily, usually when my girlfriend is absent for long periods.
‘I am aggressive with my family but the next day when I wake, I can’t remember anything.’
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Below is a piece I wrote in an email to a friend a couple of weeks ago, about one of Ball’s benders, as I call them.
I did not publish it at the time, as the memory of what happened was still too raw. It happened before he discovered his girlfriend was pregnant.
I am publishing it today not to spite the memory of Ball’s father, of course, but to serve as a reminder of his son’s behaviour, should he be tempted to lapse again.
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Ball lost control of himself again the other night. He drank the equivalent of a bottle and a half of whisky.
I dropped in to see him after work, as I was alarmed to hear how much he had consumed.
I had called his mother an hour earlier. By the time I arrived, she was asleep, oblivious to Ball and his plight.
Shortly after I arrived, his girlfriend Jay walked out in protest, as he refused to go to bed.
I spent the next 90min there, as he wandered about the slum looking for his girlfriend.
He tried to persuade me to take him to a karaoke shop, even though he was so drunk he could barely walk.
I called Jay. At first she hung up on me, but eventually answered; she was talking to friends at the Tops supermarket where she used to work.
Ball grabbed the motorbike keys to head out after her. I confiscated them as he was too drunk to drive, which made him angry.
His elder brother Boy said he couldn't leave home again, and they fought.
They threw punches at each other. His mother, her partner Lort and a niece tried to keep them apart amid much screaming and drama.
I do not interfere in fight scenes, as I know it's hopeless. However, I believe that if I hadn't wrested the keys away from him, he would now be in hospital, or worse.
No one is interested in Ball when he is drunk. Boy only stepped in when I asked for his help. Ball was way too drunk to drive. Earlier, he almost staggered onto a busy road outside their place as he looked flor his girlfriend in the slum.
Ball punched and kicked a brick wall close to home in frustration, hurting his hand, as I negotiated with Jay over the phone, imploring her to come home.
I was stuck there alone with him – rattling about dirty slum alleyways, at the mercy of when his protesting girlfriend decided to return.
I urged Ball to go home and wait, but he refused. He urged me to home to bed, but I knew I couldn't leave him alone.
The fuss died down when Jay finally agreed to come back.
I spent the last half hour with Ball playing on gym equipment in the slum, as he started to sober up, and his normally buoyant spirits returned.
We have decided to do more exercise together, as he wants to build up his 'six pack'.
When he rose the next day he looked bad, but made it to work. He stayed an hour or so before he came home again, as he felt too ill to carry on.
About 10am, Ball's mother called saying he was home. I dropped in to see them.
Mum had bought him a half bottle of whisky. I was so upset to see him that I couldn't contain myself. Mum and Lort noticed and asked what was wrong.
I asked Ball to stand up, and I smacked him three times across the bottom in front of them.
'Look what he's done to me!' he joked to his mother.
He looked embarrassed, but did not get angry. I told him he was lucky to be alive. He apologised for upsetting me, and said he knew he was behaving like a child.
I asked him if he felt guilty about his father's death, or angry with his father.
'I am disappointed that at the moment he died, I was upstairs in my room. Dad was lying on the living room floor. When I returned, I found he was dead,' he said.
'I am not angry with him, though I am unhappy with myself.'
I believe the effect of his father's death lingers nonetheless.
'I think your father's death is tied up with your loner tendencies, and your persistent need to drink,' I said.
Ball is proud of the fact that, of all the kids, Dad was closest to him. He was his father's carer...making him meals, following him about the slum when Dad was drunk, cleaning up after him when he soiled himself.
'The other kids are closer to each other than they are to me,' he said.
Mum heard, but said nothing.
A picture of Ball's father sits on the wall, with a small shrine below it.
'Your dad is still here, watching you,' I said. 'His spirit will never leave.'
Earlier that morning, Boy apologised to Ball for fighting with him.
Mum was impressed that Boy would apologise to his younger brother.
I had dropped in briefly before he went to work, and witnessed the apology. It didn't do much for me.
I reminded her that Ball apologised to Boy the night before. His mother is blinkered in favour of Boy...no wonder Ball gets upset.
When Boy was fighting with Ball, I witnessed a new side of Boy, who is nothing like the courageous soldier his mother portrays him to be. He looked scared.
Ball, who admittedly was drunk, isn't scared or intimidated by his elder brother. If he worries about anything, it is that opinion will swing against him even more if he takes on Boy, who is regarded as the hero of the family.
We drank further, chatted some more. I asked Ball if I could stand in for his Dad's spirit for just a moment, as I had something to say.
'Please lean your head towards me,' I said.
Ball did as he was told.
When he was within range, I kissed his forehead, and told him I forgave him for everything.
'Stop beating yourself up. I want you to be happy,' I said.
Ball smiled, and nodded.
He didn't mind the kiss. I hope he understood.
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I wondered if I would get thumped when I took the motorcycle keys off Ball. He told me the next day he would not dare hit me. That's good news. However, it hardly relieves my anxiety about a repeat performance.
One part of the problem stems from his living environment. It is crowded, and too small. He can do things outside the slum, such as play on the exercise equipment, but it is hardly appealing if he has to go alone.
Ball claims his friends are too busy. I am not convinced. I believe it is easier for him to drink, so he drinks. Taking the initiative by stepping outdoors to press weights or play a game of football with his brother or friends is harder, so he doesn't do it.
He is a loner, and being a teen, believes no one understands him. Our relationship has reached the point where he now trusts me fully, which is touching, but which hardly improves matters.
I am like an elder brother who actually cares, or perhaps a close friend which he lacks. But still he drinks.
When I refuse his requests to borrow money for drinking, he does not resent it...in fact, like most kids, he looks as if he appreciates the direction.
I hope to build on his desire for guidance to shape his behaviour. We need to reach an understanding about what is acceptable behaviour where he and the bottle are concerned.
The bottle can get in the way of healthy, productive relationships. It is much easier to drink alone than interact with family and friends, or face up to responsibilities.
Ball’s relationship with his family and his girlfriend have drifted far enough from their moorings. It’s time to yank the ship back to berth.
