Take Me Back, Please
Mum, you really dont have to I couldnt finish the sentence.
Margaret Smith shook her head slowly, fingers tracing the worn armrest of the old chair. The flat was thick with the scent of her perfume and dried lavender she kept in every room. Soon enough, those smells would fade.
Im not doing this for you, she said. Its for Michael. The boy needs a proper home. Not some rented box his landlord can throw him out of whenever he feels like it. No matter what happens between you and Emily, son, the flat should go to Michael. Thats my wish.
Emily was standing by the window, her hand resting gently on our sons shoulder. Michael fidgeted, not quite understanding why the grown-ups were speaking so slowly and softly.
Thanks, Mum, I managed to say. Honestly. Thanks.
Margaret waved my words away and smiled at Michael. Her whole face softened.
Come here, sweetheart.
Michael crossed the room and let his grandmother pull him close. Her hands trembled slightly as she held his face.
You know what, Mikey? Youre the best thing that ever happened to me. You have my eyes. My stubbornness. My dreadful taste in music.
Gran, Michael said, embarrassed but happy.
This flat is yours, Margaret said more firmly. Itll be in your fathers name for now because youre not eighteen yet. Youre why Im giving it away now, while I still can. Were family, Michael. I want you taken care of.
Two months later, Margaret stopped breathing
The three-bedroom flat swallowed us all up whole. Every weekend I stripped the old floral wallpaper, painted over years of stains, fitted new lights. Emily rearranged things, searching for space among Mums remaining furniture.
Michael darted from room to room, ecstatic to finally have his own space. At last, he could plaster his bedroom walls with posters without asking anyones permission.
Dad, can I put my desk by the window?
Put it wherever you like, mate. Its your room.
I watched him line up his model cars on the windowsill. Thanks to Mum, my family finally had a proper home. I shouldve felt happy, grateful.
Instead, the walls felt like they were closing in. The routine, the predictability, days bleeding into each other. Wake up. Work. Home. Dinner. TV. Sleep. Repeat until the end
The café down the road from work became my escape. I started stopping there after work, delaying my return home by half an hour, then an hour. The barista knew my order by heart. The corner table by the window might as well have had my name on it.
Its in that café I met her
She laughed at something on her phone loud, unrestrained. Her laughter drowned the background hum. I looked up from my laptop, she caught my eye and, instead of glancing away, raised her eyebrows.
Sorry, she said, without a hint of apology. My mate just sent me the worst joke ever. Want to hear it?
I should have declined. I should have finished my spreadsheet and gone home to my wife and son.
Go on, I said.
Her name was Lisa. She worked in advertising, hated her job, adored silly puns. Lisa was lively, sparkling, truly real.
Youre drowning, she said at our third meeting.
Im not. Ive got a good life.
But are you happy?
Three weeks later, we found ourselves in the same bed
That night, after Id come home, I told Emily the truth.
I watched her face change as she processed the words.
You slept with someone else, Emily repeated slowly.
Yes.
I kept quiet. Any words would make it worse.
Emily hurled a towel at me. It hit my chest and dropped to the floor a pathetic gesture, but it fuelled her fury.
You betrayed our family for some young thing? Fourteen years, Dave. Fourteen years, and you got bored?
Its not about boredom.
Then what? she shouted. Explain it, because Im clearly too stupid to understand why my husband decided to destroy what we built!
I rubbed my hands over my face.
Im suffocating with you, Emily. Every day is the same. Work, home, dinner, bed. I needed to feel something different. Something alive. Something real.
Something alive, Emily laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks. I gave you a son. My youth. And you needed to feel alive?
A door clicked softly in the hallway. Michael had woken up and was hiding in his room. My chest tightened at the thought of what he might have overheard.
Fine. Emily wiped her face roughly, smudging her mascara even more. Fine, Dave. You want to leave? Then lets divorce. I wont hold you back. But lets talk about the flat. Your mum wanted it for Michael. She told him so herself
The flat stays with me.
Emily froze.
What did you say?
Its registered in my name. I couldnt look her in the eye. Legally, its mine. You and Michael will need to find somewhere else. Ill help with the first months rent, anything you need, but
Youre throwing your own son out she whispered. Your own child. The boy your mum left this flat to.
Im not throwing anyone out. Youll have time to find somewhere. Ill help where I can, but
Youre a monster. Emily gripped the worktop. Youre not a man, not a father youre nobody. Your mum would be disgusted to see what youve become
The next morning, Emily was packing boxes while Michael sat on his bed, staring at the walls hed just covered in posters. He wouldnt look at me. Didnt say a word. Just followed his mother out of the flat.
The divorce finalised in three months. I paid child support not much, but enough to satisfy the court. Every Sunday I tried ringing Michael, and every Sunday my call went unanswered. Texts were ignored. Birthday presents got no thanks.
Over time, I stopped trying. The boy was angry, I told myself. Hed grow up, and realise adults sometimes make tough choices.
Lisa moved in two weeks after Emily left. She filled the flat with candles, cushions and music that played day in, day out. She cooked elaborate, expensive meals and insisted on shopping trips every weekend. Around her I felt younger, reckless, deliciously free.
Six months later, my savings account had £47 left.
Hotels. Restaurants. Spontaneous shopping sprees Lisa would twirl out of changing rooms in dresses costing more than Id spend on food for a month. It was so enjoyable, I didnt notice the problem until my account emptied.
We need to talk about our spending, I told Lisa one evening.
Later, darling, lets do it tonight. Im meeting the girls.
She gave me a quick peck, grabbed her new handbag, courtesy of last month, and breezed out.
That night Lisa didnt come back
The next morning she turned up and announced there was no future for us. I bored her, she said, and she felt suffocated Lisa quickly packed up her things and left as easily as shed arrived.
For two weeks, all I did was wallow. Wandering the empty flat in the same old clothes, dirty dishes piling up, blinds closed tight. Everyone had left me thats what I told myself. My son wouldnt speak to me. My wife took the best and walked out. And Lisa beautiful, carefree Lisa vanished the moment the money ran out.
By the third week, self-pity morphed into something darker. I showered, shaved, put on my cleanest shirt, and travelled across London to the address Emily had listed in court.
The block was old but respectable a post-war council building with fresh paint and a working lift. Emily let me in without asking why I was there.
Michael, she called over her shoulder, your dads here.
I stepped into the narrow hallway, eyeing the modest space where my family now lived. Two rooms instead of three. Slim corridor, small kitchen.
But the place pulsed with warmth and life.
Michael stood in the doorway. Hed grown in the months I hardly saw him; his face had lost some of its childhood softness. And in his eyes, gazing at me, there wasnt a drop of warmth.
Michael, I know youre angry, I began. But I realise I made a mistake. I messed up. But everythings going to change. We can be a family again. The three of us. Your rooms waiting, Michael!
Emily leaned against the wall, her gaze blank.
People change, I pressed on, speaking to both of them. Ive had time to think I understand now what I lost. Ive worked it all out.
You havent lost anything, Michael shot back. You made your choice. You chose her, not us.
Its not that simple, mate.
Dont call me that. Michael stepped forward. You threw us out of Grans flat. Out of our home. You picked Lisa over me and Mum.
Michael, please
We trust you, and then what? Michael interrupted. You meet someone else and decide youre bored again? Toss us out like rubbish?
I tried to defend myself:
That will never happen again. I promise, Ive changed.
He shook his head slowly.
I dont want a dad like you, he said quietly.
He turned and disappeared into his room.
I looked at Emily, desperate for a whiff of support.
Emily, talk to him. Tell him I get it, Ive learned.
She shook her head.
I wouldnt forgive you either, Dave. Even if you begged. She walked to the door. You disgust me. Not because you cheated. Not even because you made us leave. Because you only came back after she dumped you. When you had nobody left.
I dont remember ending up on the stairs. I dont remember getting back home
In the end, I was alone in the three rooms, alone in the big flat. Mum believed a family would live here. Now theres nobody left. I pushed away everyone who loved me. And theres nothing I can do to mend it. Its simply too late.
The lesson? I learned that the things we throw away in search of excitement and newness are often the very things well wish we still had, once their absence becomes unbearable. I would give anything now to be less alone, and have my family back. But regret is a cold companion.
