Watch what you say! his stepdad snapped, slapping his cheek. It hurt a little, but the sting of embarrassment lingered longer. Their mother, Susan, shook her head disapprovingly.
You were once a tiny boy who needed love and care. Youve had it all, havent you? she said. Harry felt a flush of shame, but only a faint one. Over time he realised that, in the eyes of the adults sharing the flat, he was becoming nothing more than a piece of furniture.
Until he was five, Harrys life was fairly happy. Then his father vanished, his mother grew sad and sometimes wept. Harry never dared ask where his dad had gone; all he knew was that his parents had split.
For the next two years Susan worked long hours, grew exhausted, smiled less and seemed perpetually downcast. Harry wanted to help, but he didnt know how.
The best help you can give is to behave well, his grandmother, Ethel, advised, leaning away and adding in a low voice, Dont make a fool of the boy and send him off to his father.
Harry tried his best. He obeyed his mother and grandmother, stopped being whiny, and when school started he studied diligently. When Susan suddenly brightened, looked prettier and even seemed younger, Harry declared that his good behaviour must have caused the change. He was wrong.
Susan blossomed after meeting David Harper, a cheerful young man who soon moved in and announced, This is Uncle David, son. Hell be your dad now.
Come off it, Sue, the new stepdad chuckled. Im not your dad, but Ill do what I can.
Harry, however, didnt like the selfconfident stranger who ran the flat as if it were his own house, laying down his own rules while Susan watched him with affectionate eyes. Who would enjoy that?
Harry tried to rebel, refusing to obey Uncle David, but when he saw his mothers disappointment he fell silent. Even Ethel urged him to be good: Your mother will finally stop working two jobs if you behave. David may not be rich, but hes honest and hardworking.
Reluctantly, Harry settled down, and the three of them lived fairly well together until baby Tom was born a shared son of Susan and David. Harry watched the adults fuss over the chubby, pinkcheeked infant who squirmed like a kitten.
One day he asked why they treated the baby so specially, and David answered with another slap, Watch your mouth! Hes your brother, after all! The sting was shallow, the humiliation deeper. Susan shook her head again, You were once that small, needing love. Youve had it all now.
Harry felt a tiny pang of guilt, but it faded. He slowly understood that, to the adults, he was as invisible as an old stool they kept from their previous house useful enough to stay, but ignored unless they tripped over it. No one wanted to toss the sturdy stool away; it held memories.
Harrys imagination was vivid. Left to his own devices, he read a lot and dreamed of becoming a psychologist, but soon duties called. He had to help Susan with the household because David was often away at work, and caring for Tom alone was too much for her. Secretly he hoped that the extra chores would draw more of Susans attention, but she was completely absorbed in Tom and David. Only Ethel tried to show Harry affection, and she died when he turned thirteen.
That loss sparked a genuine outburst.
I didnt sign up to be a cleaner or a nanny! he shouted at both parents one evening. Take care of your own son!
Susan gasped, Harry, you canthes just four years old.
David muttered, Youve grown up on your own, no gratitude.
Harry snapped back, Youre nobody to me! and turned to his mother, Mom, why wont you ever talk about my real father?
The argument erupted, ending in Susans tears and the adults no longer asking Harry to look after Tom. He learned little about his missing dad.
Years later, when Harry was a college student studying electrical engineering, a gaunt man in a crisp suit approached him outside the campus café.
Harry Whitfield? the stranger asked. Im John Peters. Im your father.
Harry laughed, No way Where did you come from, Dad?
John answered calmly, I understand your reaction, but the story is complicated. Listen, and then youll decide what to do.
Harrys heart raced. He was glad to meet his father but tried not to show it. They sat at a nearby table, and John explained that, years ago, hed been in prison for an armed robbery, got an early release, and later started a modest carrepair business with a friend.
I wanted to approach you earlier, but I thought youd reject a son of a former convict, John said. Now Im clean, making honest money. I hope you wont be ashamed of me.
Harrys eyes widened. Dad, Ive never been ashamed of you. Its good youre here.
John smiled, Never say never, and dont blame your mother.
They talked long into the evening and began meeting regularly. For the first time Harry felt he had a close adult in his life who genuinely cared. Susan noticed his newfound glow and asked what had changed. Harry kept his secret, but eventually blurted out, I have a dad now, so everythings fine!
Susan, shocked, retorted, I thought Id kept you away from him! Ive raised you alone!
John, trying to mediate, said, Im not a monster. Ive paid my dues. I love you.
A heated argument followed, Susan threatened to cut off any contact, and the house erupted in shouting. In the end, Susan collapsed into a nervous hysteria, but Harry, hardened by years of being ignored, was less shaken.
David, the stepdad, intervened at the last moment, chastising Harry for his harsh words but offering no real reprimand, perhaps hoping Harry would finally leave. John explained that regaining parental rights would take time, and Harrys future was already set he was nearing his eighteenth birthday.
The family drifted apart. Susan and Harry barely spoke, though she never forced him out. When Harry earned his diploma, he moved into Johns flat. He was thrilled, but the joy was shortlived: just after his nineteenth birthday, John died unexpectedly, having concealed a longstanding illness to spare his son pain.
In his will, John left Harry a modest house, a few hundred thousand pounds in his bank account, and his share of the garage business. Grieving yet relieved, Harry settled into a comfortable life, his finances secure.
Years later, Susan called unexpectedly, a rarity after years of formal exchanges.
Harry, I know youre well off now, she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness.
Im not a millionaire, but Im not broke, Harry replied, wary of her motives.
Were having trouble. David lost his job and cant find a new one. Tom is about to start university; we need tutors and tuition, Susan explained.
Harry sighed, Im sorry.
She pressed, You can help, cant you? You have money, after all.
Its my fathers money you despised, Harry snapped, and you raised us both. Now you expect me to fix everything?
Susan pleaded, Dont say that, son. I love you.
Enough, Harry said, standing abruptly. If you called me only for money, goodbye.
He left the flat without a backward glance, refusing to be a pawn in their financial woes.
Harry walked away knowing that a life spent trying to please everyone else had left him empty. He finally understood that love cannot be bought, and that the only person he could truly rely on was himself.
In the end, he learned that dignity and selfrespect are worth more than any inheritance, and that a persons worth is measured not by the wealth they inherit, but by the compassion they choose to give. The lesson stayed with him: you cannot build a happy life on the expectations of others; you must create it with your own honest effort.
