Dad Is Better
Max, we need to have a chat.
Emily was fiddling nervously with the tablecloth, smoothing out imaginary creases. Her hands betrayed the anxiety she tried to hide behind a steady voice. Max sat across from her, eyes glued to his phone, thumbs working the screen with exaggerated intent. Deliberate ignoring his favourite tactic.
Son… there’s something important I want you to understand.
No answer came, just the clicking of the touchscreen.
Emily took a deep breath, finding the courage for words shed postponed all week.
When your dad and I split up… it was six months before I introduced you to James. I didn’t rush, you know? I wanted to be sure it mattered.
Maxs fingers froze. He lifted his head slowly, outrage flaring in his eyes so bright Emily flinched.
Youre serious? he muttered, jaw tense. You think things are serious with him, that stranger? Hes not worth Dads little finger! Dad is way better than him!
Memories of that first encounter clawed into Maxs mind with painful clarity. A tall stranger at their old front door, Mums nervous smile, a whiff of unfamiliar cologne in the hallway. An invader, arrogantly occupying the sacred space once reserved for Dad.
Hes not a stranger to me, Emily said gently. Hes my husband now.
Yours! Max threw his phone on the table. Hes not mine. My father is Dad. This guy…
He didnt need to finish. Disdain dripped from every word.
James had tried so hard. You could see it every evening in the garage, hunched over Maxs battered bike. Hands grimy, brow sweaty, a stubborn smile that said hed go to any lengths.
Look, Ive straightened out the frame, hed say, wiping his hands on a rag. Fancy a ride tomorrow?
Silence in reply. Chilly, ringing silence.
Most evenings James would sit beside Max at the desk, explaining equations in straightforward words.
Lets see, if you carry this X over here…
I get it, Max snapped, though he didnt. He just wanted escape.
Every morning the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh pancakes and honey Maxs favourite treat. James would stack them neatly, setting the plate in front of his stepson.
Dad made them thinner, Max tossed out, barely touching his food. And he bought proper honey. The stuff you get isnt nice.
Each gesture met the same icy wall. Max seemed to collect reasons for barbed remarks, turning every little thing into another comparison.
Dad never shouted.
Dad always knew what I liked.
Dad did everything right.
Emily and Jamess wedding shattered their fragile truce. Max saw the marriage certificate as final betrayal. The house became a minefield. Mornings started in strained silence; evenings ended with slammed doors.
Unwittingly, Max became a secret agent, noting every slip his stepdad made with the precision of a detective. A harsh word at dinner recorded. An irritated sigh during homework remembered. A weary not now after work another grievance banked.
Dad, he yelled at me again, Max whispered into the phone from his room.
He did? Andrew tutted with feigned sympathy. My poor boy. Do you remember going to Hyde Park together every Sunday?
I do…
Now that was a real family. Not like this, right?
Andrew painted the past in warm colours and spun every household disagreement into a drama of neglect. He conjured up an ideal world, where days were always sunny, grass was greener, and Dad never made mistakes.
James felt increasingly like an unwelcome guest in his own home. Every glance from Max seemed to scream: you dont belong here. Youre filling someone elses place. Youre never going to be one of us.
Tiredness built up, weighed heavy on his shoulders.
It all blew up one ordinary evening at dinner.
Youve no right to tell me what to do! Max shouted when James asked him to put his phone away at the table. Youre nobody to me! Got it? Nobody!
Emily froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Something inside her snapped. Her son looked at James with such fury, you could barely breathe.
My Dad is better in every way. You… you just Dad says you ruin everything! Life would be better if he were here!
Enough, Emily whispered. Thats enough.
Next morning, she dialled her ex-husband. Her fingers shook, but her resolve was firm.
Andrew, she began steadily, if you think youre the better parent, take Max. For good. I wont fight, Ill even pay child support.
The silence stretched out.
Well… its just… right now isnt great… Andrew mumbled. Work, business trips… I wish I could, but…
He hesitated, shuffled papers, cleared his throat.
Its not easy, Emily. My flats only got one bedroom, Im mid-renovation. And, you know my job unpredictable hours.
Emily waited, letting him flounder in his excuses.
And, well, Natasha… my girlfriend… shes not really ready for a kid at home. Weve only just moved in together, still finding our feet…
Pathetic excuses from a man who turned her son against her new family. Who phoned at night, whispered poisonous words, stoked every spark of resentment. Now a one-bedroom flat, renovations, Natasha not ready.
I understand, Andrew, Emily said, calm. Thanks for being honest.
She hung up, not waiting for his answer.
That evening, Emily called Max to the sitting room. He slumped in the armchair, defiant, but something in her face made him uneasy.
I spoke to your dad today.
Max tensed, leaning forward.
What did he say?
Emily sat opposite.
Hes not ready to take you in. Not now, not ever. Hes got a new life, a new woman, youre not part of it.
Thats not true! Youre lying! Max shot back. Dad loves me! Hes told me himself…
Words are easy, Emily replied quietly. But when I offered, he brought up the renovation and his one-bedroom flat.
Max opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Listen carefully, Emily leaned in. No more comparing. No more secret reports to Dad, no more nastiness to James. Either were a family the three of us. Or you leave to go live with your father, who doesnt want you. Ill make him take you, if thats what you choose. Youll see for yourself what your dad is really like.
Max sat still, only his dilated pupils betraying that he heard every word.
Mum…
Im not joking, Emily held his gaze, dead serious. I love you more than anything. But I wont let you ruin my marriage. Youve behaved terribly. Ive put up with it for too long. Thats it. You choose.
Max was stunned. The world, which had seemed so simple good Dad, bad stepdad was now shattered. Dad wasnt going to take him. Dad chose Natasha and a new kitchen over him. Dad had been using him all along, just to spite his mum?
The painful truth settled slowly, heavy and real. All those evening calls, that feigned concern, those questions not kindness. Weapons. Andrew had been collecting ammunition for his grudge, and Max had supplied it.
He swallowed hard.
James? The same James hed tormented for months? The one who had patiently fixed his bike even while Max stalked past the garage? Who woke up early every morning to make pancakes? Who never left, never gave up, never stopped trying no matter what?
…Change was difficult. For weeks Max kept to his room, avoiding Jamess eyes. He couldnt face how childish hed acted. Every time he saw his stepdad, those words youre nobody echoed, and he longed to disappear.
Everyone tiptoed around. Dialogue grew careful and vague. The house felt like a hospital ward, each person balancing between hope and despair.
The first step was a physics homework problem. Max wrestled with it for two hours, biting his pencil before admitting defeat.
James… the name stuck in his throat. Could you help me? Somethings wrong with these vectors.
James looked up from his laptop. No surprise, no victory just quiet acceptance.
Lets have a look.
A month on, they went fishing together. They sat by the river, watched the floats, and suddenly Max started to talk about school, about mates, about the girl he fancied in the year above. No complaints. No comparisons. Just sharing.
James listened, nodded, sometimes added a word. Thats when Max understood: this is what family feels like. Not loud declarations, not rosy memories. The real thing is in gentle breakfast conversations, in patience, in the willingness to keep showing up even when it hurts.
He made his choice. The right one.
