Dads Getting Married
Five years ago, Emilys mum passed away. She was only forty-eight. Her heart gave out while she was tending to her violets in the kitchen. Her dad was fifty-five at the time.
He didnt cry, didnt shout. He just sat in Mums armchair and stared at her photograph, with a look as if he were trying to bring her back by sheer willpower.
That day, Emily lost not only her mother. Really, she lost her dad too. He was still there, in the same house, but he wasnt himselfjust a shell of a man, trapped in his grief.
That first year was rough. Emily was twenty-three, and suddenly she had to be both a daughter and a carer, and at times, a kind of makeshift counsellor for her dad. She made shepherds pie that hed leave untouched, washed his shirts he never wore, and talked and talked, hoping her words would somehow pull him out of the deep hole hed fallen into.
But her dad just stayed quiet. Sometimes hed mutter a single word in response. Each time, it stunglike a slap: Dont fuss. Leave me be. Dont touch.
Slowly, a thick, grey, impenetrable wall grew between father and daughter
***
Time went on. They started living like strangers under the same roof.
Theyd see each other in the kitchen in the mornings and leave for the day, come home in the evenings, bump into one another over dinner, then disappear into separate rooms. Minimal conversation. No real connection.
Emily stopped sharing her concerns or offering help. Her dad seemed grateful for the space. Bit by bit, they both adjusted to this new version of life.
Without a wife without Mum
***
After a while, her dad seemed to return to life a little.
Hed smile at the neighbour, Mrs. Brown, when she popped in with her legendary sausage rolls. He went fishing with his mate again. He rediscovered his old laptop and favourite comedies.
Emily didnt see that old despair in his hunched shoulders anymore. She thought, maybe, the worst was over. She even took a summer job at a seaside retreat, leaving her dad on his own for a bit.
When she came back, though, a big surprise was waiting for her.
***
Her dad announced he was getting married.
He said it straight away, as soon as she stepped inside the house. His voice was calm and certain, like the matter was already settled.
They went into the kitchen and sat down across from each other.
Ive met someone, he said with a small smile. Her names Margaret. Were getting married.
Emily felt a cold jolt. Not because hed met someone newshed have been happy for him if he started smiling again. It was just that a blaring red alarm sounded in her head: The house!
Their house! The one shed grown up in! Mums sewing machine still stood in the corner, and her favourite mug was there in the cupboardnot that chipped one some strange woman left dirty on the table.
Emily stared at the unfamiliar cup, brimming with resentment
Dad, she started, struggling to find the right words, dont you think this is a bit quick? Do you even know her that well? Where are you even planning to live? Not here, I hope? This iswell, its not only your house. Its Mums, too
Her dad looked up at her slowly. There was nothing in his eyes but exhaustion and a chilly scorn.
Ah, so thats what its about, he said quietly. Here we go. Didnt take you long, did it? Im not dead yet, you know. A little early to be talking about divvying things up.
Im not dividing anything! I just want to know whats going to happen! Emily flared up. Its understandable, isnt it? Youre starting a new family, and what am I supposed to do if something happens?
Youll deal with it if it happens. Her dad scowled and stomped off to his room.
***
A few days later, Margaret came round. Tall, slim, with sad but shrewd eyes, she was polite to the point of being sickeningly sweet.
Emily, I completely get how you feel, she said. Please believe me, Im not after anything. Ive got my own life and my own flat. I just love your father.
Margaret tried very hard to be friendly, butoh, the questions!
Is your cottage far from town? shed ask, acting all innocent. And how long have you had this house? Houses like this are really popular nowadays.
And Margaret firmly declared it was wrong to discuss inheritance in advance, saying those conversations only upset her dad and made him feel redundant.
After that visit, Emilys suspicions only got worse. She was dead certain Margaret was sly and calculated, and things between Emily and her dadwhich were already strainedcompletely fell apart. Emily saw him as a stubborn old man, blinded by some late-in-life passion and ready to give everything away to a stranger. He, no doubt, saw in her a grasping, mistrustful daughter who couldnt care less about his happiness.
Every talk turned into a row. Her dad insisted on his right to enjoy his life; Emily insisted on her right to a secure future. They jabbed at each other however they could, never realising each was hurting themselves most of all.
***
At last, Emily snapped and suggested they go to a solicitor, to settle the question of whod get what once and for all.
Her dad refused for ages, then finally, with a sigh, gave in.
Alright, he said wearily, have it your way.
They were both silent all the way to the solicitors office. Emily kept fiddling with her handbag, bracing for a full-on battle
It was quietly tense inside. Her dad sat a bit apart, hands folded in his lap, face like stone.
The solicitor, an older woman with cropped silver hair and strict eyes, opened up a folder.
So, were here to she began briskly.
Hang on, her dad interrupted. His voice was soft but so steady that Emily shivered. Actually, Im here for something else
He handed the solicitor a paper.
Here.
The solicitor slipped on her glasses, scanned the page, and asked, surprised:
Are you certain? This says youre giving all your property, the house, everything, to your daughter? No conditions?
Emily stopped breathing for a second. What? Hes giving her everything? Just like that? Was this some kind of trap? Was he going to turn round and say shed forced him?
She stared at her dad, trying to see what he was playing at.
But his face held none of the anger or hurt she expected. Just a boundless disappointment, andworsepity. Pity for her. For Emily.
There you go, he said quietly, standing to leave and placing the signed document in front of her. Take it. Everything you wanted so much. The house, the cottage, all of it. Now you dont have to worry that Ill throw it away for some silly notion of happiness.
He said happiness like it was a dirty word. Emily flinched.
Dad I I didnt mean she murmured, tears of humiliation running down her cheeks.
Didnt mean it? He gave a short, joyless laugh. It stung more than a shout. Emily, you havent once asked about my health these last six months. Never asked if I was warm, or if I needed anything. The only thing youve wanted to talk about is paperwork. Square footage. You havent seen me as your father for a long time. Just a problem standing between you and what you think you deserve. Did you really think I hadnt noticed?
He went to the door. Looked back:
You wanted this cage? Its yours.
Her dad left. Emily sat there, hands shaking around the cold sheet of paper. Shed won! Shed got everything she wanted! And suddenly she realised shed lost it all.
***
Years passed.
Her dad and Margaret are still together. Sometimes Emily spots them at the grocery shop or in the park, always holding hands. He looks older, but his face lights up when he looks at Margaret.
Emily lives by herself.
In a nicely refurbished three-bedroom house, with shiny new furniture.
Weekends, she heads to the cottage. Everything in place there, too.
But happinesswell, that got lost somewhere along the way
Emily gets it now: her dad didnt hand her the house out of spite or anger. He gave her what shed chosenwalls instead of love, paperwork instead of family.
She swapped her own father for a house and a cottage. And that, she knows now, is the most painful inheritance anyone could receive.
