—Mum, don’t tell me you forgot! — Emily shrieked, barging into the hallway and flinging her designer handbag off her shoulder. —Oh, Mum! I told you a month ago!
Margaret turned slowly from the mirror where she’d been adjusting her silver-grey hair. Her hands trembled slightly, but her gaze remained steady.
—What are you talking about, love? — she murmured.
—What do you think?! — Emily hurled her bag onto the sofa. —It’s Ben’s birthday tomorrow! He’s turning fifteen! Are you really off in la-la land again?
—No, of course I remember… — Margaret sank into her armchair, folding her hands in her lap. —I was just thinking maybe we shouldn’t make a big fuss…
—Shouldn’t?! — Emily froze mid-step, staring at her mother. —That’s my son! Your grandson! Fifteen years old! And you say we shouldn’t?
Margaret sighed. She knew what was coming. The same routine whenever Emily visited with Ben on weekends. Her daughter had always been like this—fiery, demanding. And since the divorce, it had only gotten worse.
—Emily, calm down. I remember. I bought a gift, ordered a cake from the bakery, — she said wearily. —Just… I think maybe he doesn’t want a big party. He’s been so quiet lately…
—Quiet?! — Emily scoffed. —He’s a teenager! They’re all quiet around adults. That doesn’t mean we skip his birthday! If anything, we should show him how much we love him!
A floorboard creaked in the hall. Ben appeared—lanky, tousle-haired, with serious eyes just like his father’s.
—Hey, Nan, — he muttered, flicking a glance at his mum. —Why the shouting?
—Not shouting, just planning your birthday, — Emily’s voice instantly turned syrupy as she turned to him. —It’s tomorrow, sweetheart! Nan’s got a cake, I’ve brought presents…
—Don’t need any of it, — Ben mumbled, perching on the edge of the sofa. —I’m fine.
—Fine?! — Emily’s voice cracked. —Fifteen’s a milestone, Ben!
Ben shrugged and buried himself in his phone. Margaret watched him uneasily. Something was wrong. For months, he’d grown more withdrawn, barely speaking to her, barely responding to his mother.
—Ben, love, what would you like for your gift? — she asked gently.
—Nothing.
—Nothing?! — Emily sat beside him. —What about a new phone? Or we could upgrade your laptop—
—Mum, drop it, — Ben stood abruptly. —Gonna head to my room.
—Your room?! — Emily jumped up. —We just got here! Let’s at least make plans, who to invite—
—Don’t invite anyone! — Ben whipped around. —Got it? No one! I just wanna be left alone.
—But why? — Emily faltered. —You used to love birthdays…
—Used to. — Ben gave a bitter half-smile. —Lots of things were different *then*. Now you don’t have to pretend these ‘special days’ matter.
He left, slamming the door. Emily stood frozen, lips parted.
—What’s wrong with him? — she turned to her mother. —He was always so happy before!
Margaret sighed. She’d seen the change in Ben. Seen how the divorce had gnawed at him, how he was torn between his parents, exhausted by their barbs and bitterness.
—Emily, sit, — she urged. —We need to talk.
—About what? — Emily paced. —It’s obvious! Richard’s turning him against me! I know how he is!
—This isn’t about Richard, — Margaret said carefully. —Ben’s just tired. All the arguing, the back-and-forth…
—What arguing?! — Emily snapped. —We divorced *civilly*!
—Civilly? — Margaret shook her head. —Emily, I hear you on the phone with your son’s father. The digs, the custody bargaining…
—I’m fighting for my son! —
—*His* son too. And Ben knows it. He’s caught in the middle. — Margaret reached for her. —Love, maybe think of *him* for once?
—I *only* think of him! — Emily pulled away. —That’s why I want to celebrate him! Show he’s loved!
—Maybe he needs quiet, not a party. Stability. A place where he doesn’t have to force a smile.
—So what? Cancel everything?
—Ask him. Honestly. What he wants. Then do *that*.
Emily hesitated. Rain pattered harder against the window.
—Fine, — she relented. —But what if he says nothing?
—Then we just… *be there*. Sometimes that’s enough.
Another creak. Ben reappeared, shifting awkwardly.
—Can I… come in?
—Of course, love. — Margaret smiled.
Ben sat opposite them, fiddling with a cushion.
—Sorry I yelled, — he muttered. —Just… everything’s too much.
—What is? — Emily whispered.
—You and Dad. Always asking if I’m okay, if anyone’s bullying me… Meanwhile you two can’t even *talk* without sniping.
—We *try*—
—Try?! — Ben’s head jerked up. —Mum, I’m not stupid. I see how you tense when he calls. How you rant after he picks me up. He’s the same. D’you think that’s *easy*?
Emily blanched. She’d never realized he noticed.
—Ben, sweetheart, we *did* divorce amicably…
—Amicably?! — Ben laughed harshly. —You mutter for an hour after his calls about what a bastard he is. He tells me you’re unstable. That’s ‘amicable’?
—Ben… —
—Now you wanna throw a party. All smiles and cake. But I’ll know it’s fake. All of it.
—We *love* you!
—Then why can’t you *be normal* for me? Just *once*?
Emily sank to her knees before him.
—Ben… I didn’t realize…
—Realize *what*? That I have *feelings*? That *I’m* hurt too?
—I just… wanted to protect you.
—From *Dad*? — Ben’s voice broke. —He’s my *father*. I love him. Like I love *you*. Why can’t I love you *both*?
—You can, — Margaret said softly. —You *should*. Emily…?
Emily nodded, swallowing hard.
—I hear you. I just… don’t know how to fix it.
—Start small? — Ben offered. —Like… tomorrow? If we *have* to celebrate… invite Dad too.
—*What*? — Emily stiffened. —But we—
—I *know* you’re divorced. But you’re both my parents. If this is *for me*… I want you *both* there.
—Ben… I can’t just—
—*Try*, Mum. For me.
Emily looked to Margaret, who nodded.
—Alright, — she whispered. —I’ll try.
For the first time that evening, Ben smiled.
—Then we’ll do it. Small, though. Just us four.
—Four?
—You, me, Dad, Nan. We’re still family.
Emily’s eyes stung. Despite everything, he still saw them that way.
—But you *promise*, — Ben said fiercely. —No jabs. No drama. One *day*. For me.
—I promise.
—Then tomorrow… might surprise all of us.
Margaret watched her grandson—so wise for fifteen, so *weary*—and felt her heart ache.
—Ben, — she asked softly, —what do you *really* want for your birthday?
—For you all to be *happy*, — he said. —Together *or* apart. Not pretending. Actually *happy*.
—That’s a big ask.
—I’ll wait. However long it takes.
Emily pulled him close.
—You won’t wait long. *I’ll* fix this.
—We all will, — Margaret added.
Ben’s smile widened.
—Then it’ll be the best birthday yet. Even if the surprise isn’t *for* me.
Outside, the rain slowed. Pale gold light broke through the clouds. Tomorrow would come. Perhaps, for all of them, a new beginning.
