“Dad, dont go! Please, dont leave us! Daddy, dont buy me anything else, or Alfie either. Just stay with us! We dont need toy cars or sweets. No presents at alljust you being here!” six-year-old Oliver sobbed, clinging to his fathers leg.
Their mum was in the next room, crying so hard she couldnt bring herself to get up.
Fourteen-year-old Alfie stood there, fists clenched. Love for his dad fought with hatred inside him.
Oliver was just a kidhe didnt understand. But Alfie had seen how broken their mum was. How shed begged on her knees earlier that day, asking Dad to stayjust long enough for Oliver to grow up a bit. But begging hadnt worked.
“Stop it! Get up! Dont humiliate yourself, dyou hear? He doesnt want you. He doesnt want any of us, so let him go!” Alfie ran over and tried to peel Oliver off their dad.
“Son, dont be like this. Ill visit, Ill help out. Ill just be living somewhere else. But Ill still love you just as much. We just decided” Dad started.
“Who decided? You decided! You think I didnt hear anything? Mum begged you not to leave. Were your family. But youre goingto some woman! Is she worth more than us, then?” Alfie fought back tears.
Family Games
If Dad had hugged him, put the bags down, and said this was all a stupid mistake Alfie wouldve thrown his arms around him. Forgotten everything. Forgiven him. Because he was Dad.
The one whod taught him to fix a car, taken him fishing, played football with him, read him bedtime stories. How could he just walk away and erase all of it? Erase them? Why?
Oliver was still screaming. Mum was still crying. Dad looked at them all then turned and left, shoulders slumped.
“Dad! Dont go!” chased after him down the street.
Life changed after that.
Alfie grew to hate him. Refused to see him, threw back the gifts he brought.
Oliver waited. Sat by the door. Stood on the balcony, staring into the distance.
Dad asked to take them out. Mum wouldnt allow it.
Not that Alfie wanted to. Oliver ached to see him, but they told himDad doesnt want you.
Mum wouldve proudly refused child support, but they needed to live.
“Your dad fell in love. Thats how it goes! The grass is always greener, isnt it? He doesnt want his kids anymore. Therell be new ones soon enough,” shed say bitterly.
Alfie listened in silence. Oliver cried.
A year later, Dad came back. Or tried to. Oliver wasnt homejust Alfie and Mum. Dad apologised, said hed made a mistake. Realised he couldnt live without them.
Mum refused to take him back. This was her moment of revenge.
And Alfie refused, too. The hurt was too fresh. No room for forgiveness.
Nobody asked Oliver. He was still too little.
Time passed. Alfie went into business. Oliver became a doctor. The older brother started a family. The younger cared for Mum till the end.
Soon after, Oliver decided to marry his childhood sweetheart, Emily.
Before that, Alfie had work in another city. Suggested they go togetherclear their heads. Took the train instead of driving. Sipped tea, talked over the clatter of wheels.
They didnt argue, got on well enough, though they rarely saw each other. But they were too differentAlfie, stubborn and sharp-tongued, only listened to himself.
He jokingly called Oliver “Mr. Softhearted” and told him kindness was out of fashion.
After finishing business, they wandered the unfamiliar, beautiful city, taking it all in. Then headed to the station.
Near the entrance, Alfie nearly tripped over a man. He scowled, muttering about people sitting where they shouldnt. The man was on a piece of cardboardfilthy, bearded, missing legs. Then he looked up.
Oliver had walked ahead but stopped when he heard Alfie laughing.
Alfie was pointing at the homeless man, roaring. Oliver rushed back, grabbed his arm, yanked him away.
“Stop it! Thats disgusting. Who knows what happened to him? Its not our place to judge!” he hissed.
“What? Not our place? Oh, it is. Dont you recognise him? You were too little. But I do. Right away. Those eyesour dads eyes. Green. Mum always said she fell for his eyes. What a waste. Enjoying yourself, you piece of trash? Recognize us? Your kids. Didnt expect this, did you?” Alfie spat.
Oliver couldnt speak, shocked. The man on the ground just cried, whispering, “Youre so handsome.”
“Nothing like you, though. Shame youre our father. You make me sick! Rot out herethats what you deserve. Crying now? Couldnt stand a normal life with your family, could you? Ran off for love. Wheres that love now, Dad? Found another stray to shack up with? Worthless.”
“Enough! Stop itnow, or I swear!” Oliver snapped.
Alfie tried to snap back but gasped instead. Oliver knelt. Reached out. Touched the dirty cheek, stroked it.
“Hi, Dad.”
Dad grabbed his hand, pressed it to his face. Sobbed, head bowed.
Who did he see then? Maybe a little boy with big eyes, clinging to his leg years ago, screaming, “Dad, dont go!”
His children had grown. Both of them. And he owed them everything.
Alfie kept raging. Dad stayed silent. Knew he deserved it. But what broke him wasnt Alfies angerit was Olivers gentle hand. Not a single word of blame.
That quiet love tore him apart.
“Right, thats enough. Trains soon,” Alfie pulled Oliver up.
“Im not going. You go. Ill catch up. I cant leave Dad.”
“What? This scum who ruined Mums life? Ours? Have you lost it? Look at himthis is what he is now. Spit on him and lets go! Ive never felt happierhe earned this!”
Then Oliver lifted Dad into his arms. He was thin, light. Just strong arms to move himself.
People watching gasped. Alfie fell silent. Dad clung to Olivers neck.
Everything froze. Alfie cursed and stormed off.
“Son my boy. Forgive me. The legs nearly froze back then. I missed you so much, wanted to come back just couldnt. Drifted since. Never found peace. Leave me. I dont deserve this.”
“I forgave you years ago, Dad. But Im not leaving you here. Lets get you cleaned up. Im a doctor nowremember when we used to fix my toys? My hippo? Id take his temperature with a spoon. You drove us around in your toy car. You were the driver, I was the doctor. Remember? Well figure something outget you moving easier. Youll live with methree-bed house. Weekends at the cottage. I built it myself. Youll like the garden. Well have tea in the evenings.”
He walked slowly, a strong, handsome man carrying his broken father. The man whod left him.
Some shook their headswhy bother? Shouldve walked away, like Alfie.
An eye for an eye.
Others admired himsaid blood ran deep.
The boy whod fixed toy animals had grown into a good man. One who loved his father, despite everything.
