I married a woman who already had a baby. Eighteen years later, she left me. But her daughter chose to spend Christmas with me.
It was about three in the afternoon on December 22nd, and there I was, still in my pyjamas, eating cereal straight from the box, when I heard a key turn in the lock.
Oh, hell. Rachel still had her key.
But it wasnt Rachel. It was Emilydragging two massive suitcases and her university rucksack behind her.
Hi, Dad.
The cereal box slipped out of my hands.
Emily? What on earth?
Im moving in with you. She dropped the suitcases with a heavy thud. Well, if youll have me. If not, thisll be awkward because Ive already hauled all my stuff here.
I jumped up off the sofa so fast I went a bit dizzy.
Moving in? Does your mum know?
Of course. We had the talk. She made air quotes. I told her I wanted to live here. That this has always been my home. Rachel cried, I cried, it was a right shambles. But she got it.
But
Dad. She gave me that look, serious as ever, the same one she had as a little kid when things were really important. Mum’s got her new life now, her sparkling minimalist flat where everythings white and youre scared to touch anything. Youve got this house, where I can leave my coffee mugs wherever and no ones going to have a panic attack.
Oi, I do tidy up.
Thats why there are three mugs in the living room.
She had me there. And there were probably another half dozen in the kitchen.
Plus, she carried on, shrugging off her coat, someones got to make sure youre not living off nothing but cheap takeaway and misery.
I laughed, though I felt a lump in my throat.
I use chopsticks. Thats a skill.
Thats just the bare minimum for survival, Dad, not exactly living.
Emily headed into the kitchen and started having a look around.
Right, this is worse than I thought, she said, opening the fridge. Soy sauce, three bottles of beer, and is that expired yoghurt? Dad, this is tragic.
Its only a couple of weeks out of date.
It says March.
…March was twookay, fair enough.
She turned on me, hands on hipsjust like when she was eight and would make me redo her plaits.
Right. Were off to Tesco tomorrow. For tonight, lets order a pizza like civilised people. You still have the number for that place with the double cheese?
Number one on speed dial.
Of course it is.
While we waited for dinner, she gave the house a good scout, like an estate agent with a clipboard.
Your rooms a disaster, but mines exactly the same, she said with a small grin, slipping into her old bedroom. You left all those awful posters up from sixth form.
You put them there. I never touch your stuff.
She was quiet for a moment, looking at the walls, the photos, her desk still covered in battered paperbacks.
You know whats mad? she said. Mum offered to redecorate my room in her new flat. However you like, she said. But ” she sat on the bedthis is already how I like it. Its already mine.
I sat next to her.
Em, you dont have to stay out of pity or anything. Honestly, Im alright.
This isnt pity, you muppet. She gave me a playful shove. Its because, when I took my first steps, you always had your arms open. When I had nightmares, you let me crawl into bed with you. When I finished my A-levels, you cried more than I did.
I wasnt that bad.
Dad, you went through three hankies.
I just had allergies.
Allergic to emotion, you mean?
She smiled and rested her head on my shoulder.
Youre my dad. Not the guy who gave me some of my DNA, but the one who gave me everything else. And now youre here, in this great big house, eating sad cereal in your pyjamas, like Im going to leave you to it? Not a chance.
My voice cracked.
Love you, kiddo.
Love you too, old man. But seriously, we are cleaning tomorrow. This place smells weird.
Christmas Eve rolled around and Emily meant business. She dragged me to Sainsburys.
Were having a real dinner. No takeaways in cartons tonight.
Butwhat about our old tradition?
New tradition: actual food. Lets go.
We bought the lot. She was chucking stuff in the trolley like it was supermarket sweep.
Do we actually know how to cook any of this? I asked.
Of course not. But weve got YouTube and blind optimism. Thatll do.
It did not do.
The turkey was burnt on the outside and raw in the middle. The mash was glue. The veg were blackened to charcoal.
We sat there staring at the culinary disaster on the table.
Well, Emily said, theres always
Chinese?
Chinese.
So there we were, eating takeaway straight from the cartons, laughing about our tragic dinner, and honestly, it was the best Christmas Eve Id had in ages.
You know what? I said. I reckon this could be our new tradition.
We try to make some posh meal, fail epically, and end up with Chinese.
Sounds perfect to me.
After dinner she handed me a tiny box.
Your present, she said.
Inside was a key with a handmade fob that said Home.
A copy of my key. Properly official, I live here now, she grinned. Its a bit bent, but its made with love.
I hugged her tight.
Its perfect.
Oi, youll strangle me.
Shush and let me have my moment.
She laughed and squeezed me back.
Thank you for everything, Dad. For all these eighteen years. For never leaving. For being you.
Thank you for choosing to stay.
Always.
That night, I lay awake staring at the new key.
Rachel had goneand that hurt.
But Emily stayed.
And that that was everything.
