I was only five, but that day is burned in my memory. My father had discovered messages on my mothers mobile, where she confided in her friend about secretly seeing her wealthy lover. They met only occasionally. At that time, my father barely brought in enough pounds to buy things the family didnt really need, but my mother wanted the children well fed. Even then, it was never enough.
How dare you go through my phone? my mother shouted, launching the first attack, knowing full well that sometimes the best defense was to take the offensive. You barely bring home enough money! Tell me, how on earth do you think we have all this food in the cupboards?
The television is mine! my father roared back through clenched teeth.
Its yours as well, isnt it? my mother snapped.
Yes, he replied, his voice shaking, its yours too. The telly, the roast beef, and and James. Im taking everything with me.
Fear knotted inside me. Until that moment, Id always been a bystander, but suddenly the shouting had pulled me into the centre of their ugly quarrel.
Not James, for heavens sake! my mother cried, her voice cracking.
But my dad gathered me up into his arms and carried me away. Why should my mother stand and battle such a man for me? Dad took me out into the back garden, bundled me up, made sure I was fed, and played with me. Even before that night, he had always spent more time with me than Mum.
It was a bitterly cold winter, and I still remember myself standing before my mother in my thick duffle coat. Dont cry, Mum, I said as bravely as I could, my little voice barely above a whisper. Ill come to visit you soon.
She hugged me close, tears hot on my face, and then Dad nodded at me: it was time to go. He paused outside the front door and turned, voice low and deadly, Ill see you in court.
Looking back, both their lives probably changed for the better. My mother soon met someone new and forgot about me for a while. Dad wasted no time eitherhe met Elizabeth, daughter of a wealthy businessman. Id stay with Mum for a few days sometimes. My parents never spoke again. To this day, my father never forgave her.
Years passed. When I turned fourteen, everything changed. My mother fell pregnant, and my father ended up behind bars. Hed been heading home from work when a fight broke out on the street, and my father was blamed for it all. He was sentenced to the full extent of the law.
When he said goodbye, he told us, Take care of each other. Elizabeth and I struggled to accept the sentence, but we got through it, side by side.
Then, one evening, everything was turned upside down. The doorbell rang as Elizabeth prepared dinner. I answered. My mother stood there, her coat pulled tight against the wind. Get ready, youre coming home, she declared, her eyes fixed on mine.
James, whos at the door? Elizabeth called as she came from the kitchen.
Im here for my son, my mother answered.
Elizabeth gently tried to rest her hand on my mothers arm to invite her in, but my mother shrugged it off, snapping, Careful, Im pregnant. I saw the pain flash through Elizabeths eyesshe couldnt have children, and everyone knew it. It hurt her, but she kept her composure somehow, forced a polite smile, and offered my mum a cup of tea. They sat at the kitchen table, while I escaped to my room.
Elizabeth, please try to understand, James is all I have, my mothers voice spiralled with emotion. Hes the only one who still understands me, who can help me. Hes my only family. You have everythinglet me have him with me, at least while his fathers away!
Listening from my room, I couldnt bear it any longer. Storming out, I shouted, Youre fighting over me as though Im a block of cheddar! Did it ever occur to you to ask what I wanted? Maybe Ive already made up my mind.
Very mature, using tears to sway a child, my mother spat, eyes narrowing.
Im not a child anymore, I retorted, a trembling in my voice. Mum, Im staying with Elizabeth. You have everything. We only have each other. I go to school here, my friends are hereIm sorry, but my minds made up. I could hardly believe I said itId never spoken to my mother like that before.
I walked her to the bus stop in the drizzle. While we waited, I asked, Are you still seeing Adam, Mum? She glanced away. We cant go hungry, can we? she replied.
I hugged my awkward mother, and we both laughed for a moment through our tears, then went our separate ways.
When I got home, I found Elizabeth crying quietly at the kitchen table. I calmed her as best I could. We both knew there would be a long, hard road ahead. Waiting is always the most difficult part.
