Hold on, Mum, just a little longer,
How long until Dad gets home? Im fed up! Wheres he? Daddy! Daddy! the boy shouted, his voice tearing through the quiet.
The little cries scraped at every nerve; each word throbbed like a fresh ache in Ethels temples. She stood in the centre of the sittingroom, her cheeks flushed from the outburst, fists clenched tight.
Your fathers at work, love. He should be back in about an hour. Calm down, sweetheart. Lets talk, Ethel said as calmly as she could, though inside she felt a knot tightening around her heart.
I dont want to talk to you! Youre terrible! I only want Dad! Jack stamped his foot, his voice cracking into a whine.
Tears rose in Ethels throat. She stared at her tenyearold son, unable to grasp how things had come to this. She had given him her whole life. For years she worked from home, never missing a minute of his side. When Jack started school she took a job in the office, yet she still spent every spare moment with himvisiting the zoo, touring museums, evening walks, bedtime stories. Everything was for him, everything for his smile.
I dont love you! Im sick of you! Im tired of you! Jacks words stabbed Ethel to the bone.
She turned away, covering her mouth with a hand. Tears were ready to spill, but she refused to break down in front of him. How could this happen? She was his mother, loved him more than anything. Why did he see a void where she stood? Why did he keep demanding his fathers presence?
Jack, please stop shouting. Your father will be home soon, she tried again, her voice betraying a tremor.
I dont want to wait! I want him now! Youre a bad mum! You
A sudden ring cut through the shouting. Jack lunged for the phone, snatching it from Ethels grasp.
Dad! Dad! he cried into the handset without even glancing at the screen.
Ethel stepped back. It was indeed Davids voice, deep and familiar, echoing from the speaker.
Hello, my boy! Hows it going? he sounded cheerful, caring.
Daddy, Ive missed you so much! Mums being annoying, when are you coming? Jack pressed the phone to his ear, his face lighting up instantly.
There was a pause. Ethel braced herself for his answer.
Sorry, love, Im stuck at work for a couple more hours. Hang on to Mum a little longer, Ill be home soon.
Hang on to Mum The words lodged in Ethels mind like a heavy stone she was forced to bear. It felt as if her very presence had become a burden that someone else must endure.
Okay, Daddy, Ill wait! Jack beamed with delight.
Ethel turned and hurried to the bedroom. Her legs trembled, her throat felt parched. She closed the door softly and collapsed onto the bed, a flood of tears breaking over her.
What was happening? Why did neither son nor husband seem to value her? Why had she become an obstacle that needed to be tolerated?
She pressed her face into the pillow, trying to weep quietly. Everything seemed so unfair. She had dreamed of this child, planned a life of love for him. And now he he didnt love her. The thought of his teenage years looming ahead, his moods becoming even more volatile, made her stomach churn.
Minutes stretched agonisingly. From the next room, the faint sounds of a video game hinted that Jack had finally settled without her. Ethel lay staring at the ceiling, wondering how to move forward with this aching pain. How could she keep being a mother to a child who rejected her?
Around nine oclock she sent Jack off to bed. He still whined for his father, but fatigue finally won. He drifted off to sleep.
Near midnight a key turned in the front door. David slipped into the hallway. Ethel met him there, arms crossed tightly across her chest.
You know how much he waits for you every day. How can you be late again? her voice trembled with barely restrained anger.
David shrugged off his coat and hung it without looking at her.
It was a corporate event, I couldnt leave early. Work, you understand?
So the corporate event is more important than our childs emotional wellbeing? Ethel whispered, trying not to wake Jack.
Dont make a scene. Im earning the money for this family.
And what am I doing? Just going to work?
David drifted to the bedroom, indifferent to the familys problems. Ethel remained alone in the corridor. She eventually lay down on a sofa in the living room and tossed and turned all night, unable to find sleep. Thoughts raced: Was this really her life? Would it always be this way?
Morning brought laughter from the kitchen. Jack and David sat at the table, chatting cheerfully about school. David listened attentively, asking questions.
Good morning, Ethel entered, forcing a smile.
Jack didnt even turn his head. David nodded, still focused on his son. Ethel poured herself a cup of tea and sat down.
Yesterday we had a tough maths problem, Jack said, looking only at his father. I solved it myself!
Well done! Did Mum help you with it? David asked.
Why would I need Mum? I did it on my own.
Ethel tried to interject, Jack, could you show me the problem? Im curious.
Jack continued his conversation with David, as if she werent there. David gave no response. Once again Ethel felt as invisible as a piece of furniture in her own home.
Weeks passed much the same. Jack shouted at her, demanded his father, ignored any attempt she made to connect. David arrived home late, and in the mornings he only talked to the boy. Ethel increasingly felt superfluous.
One evening Jack erupted over a trivial matter. He threw his toys onto the floor, snarling that he wouldnt listen to Mum because he wanted Dads attention. Something inside Ethel finally snapped.
When David finally walked through the door that night, she said, Im filing for divorce.
He looked up from his phone, startled. What?
You heard me. Im filing.
David set the phone down and narrowed his eyes. And where will you go? You have no flat. Your parents live in Manchester. This flat is mine. After a divorce youll have nowhere here!
Ethel met his stare. I know the flat is yours, and thats why Ill ask the court to give the child to you.
Davids face went pale. What? I cant manage him alone! I have work!
I also work, she replied. He needs a mother, but he also needs a father. He says he wants to stay with you.
David opened his mouth to protest, but Ethel was already out of the room. The decision was made.
A month later the court case began. Ethel temporarily stayed with her friend Ivy, searching for a new flat. Jack stopped calling, stopped texting. The childs welfare officer, a middleaged woman in a crisp suit, interviewed Jack alone. At ten, his wishes counted.
In the courtroom, the judge read the boys statement.
Jack wants to live with his father. He says he feels uncomfortable with his mother and prefers Dad. He says he loves his father more.
Each word hammered the pain in Ethels chest. She stared at the table, fighting back tears as her son publicly rejected her.
The court, considering the childs preference, the fathers higher income and his own home, orders the child to remain with his father, the judge declared.
The familys future was sealed.
David caught up with Ethel in the hallway. Take the child, I cant watch him. Work, travel, I dont know what to do.
Ethel turned. I have work too, and I need a place to live. So the child stays with you as the court ruled. Ill pay maintenance and visit every few weeks.
But youre his mother! he shouted.
And youre his father. He loves you. Make the most of it, Ethel replied, then walked away without looking back.
She moved into a tiny studio flattwenty square metres, a compact kitchen, a combined bathroom. It was her own space, free from shouting, ignored pleas, and humiliation. The first night she wept for hours. She had lost a husband, a sons affection, a family. Yet no one mocked her any more, no one made her feel worthless.
Visits from Jack became rareonce every couple of weeks. When he arrived, the old accusations resurfaced.
Because of you our family fell apart! Dad is hardly ever home now! I have a nanny! I hate you! he shouted from the sofa.
After each visit Ethel cried, but she kept moving forward. She found a new job that paid well, furnished her flat, signed up for evening classes. Ivy called almost weekly.
How could you leave and let the child stay with David? What kind of mother are you? Ivys voice trembled with outrage.
Its his son too, Ethel answered calmly. Jack chose to stay with his dad. Why should I force him to live with me against his wishes?
But children dont understand!
Jack is ten, not five. He got what he wanted.
Years passed. Ethel built a new lifesteady work, a cosy home, hobbies, friends. The constant stress faded, the shouting ceased.
Five years slipped by. Jack, now a teenager, came over one afternoon.
Mum, I was wrong. I see now how I hurt you. I was part of why you and Dad split, he said quietly.
Ethel ran her fingers through his hair, a familiar gesture from long ago. Its alright. I hope your own children will never treat you the way I was treated.
The warmth that once filled her heart for him had changed, but she felt no bitterness. She had not allowed the situation to destroy her. Perhaps society would label her a bad mother, but she remained true to herself. That, in the end, was what mattered most. The lesson: a persons worth isnt decided by how loudly others shout at them, but by the quiet strength they keep alive inside.
