Shut the Door in My Face
Mum, I know you dont love me…
Sylvia paused, the tea towel halfway to the linen drawer. She turned slowly towards her son. James stood in the doorway, sulky, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his joggers.
What on earth are you talking about? Sylvia placed the towel down carefully. Wheres that come from?
Grandma told me.
Of course she had.
And what else did Grandma say?
James edged further into the kitchen, chin jutting out stubbornly, his eyes blazing with defianceso much like his father in that moment.
She said you left Dad because you didnt care whether I had a proper family. A real one. That you left just to spite me, so I couldnt be a happy child.
Sylvia looked at her sonalmost ten, now. For two years it had just been the two of them. For two years, John had been gone, not a single call, not even a card on birthdays. Yet Margaret, her former mother-in-law, saw James every weekend without failand made sure to twist the knife, little by little.
James, Sylvia kept her voice as steady as she could, perhaps its best you dont listen too closely to everything Grandma says. She doesnt always know the whole story.
She does! James flared up. Youre the liar! If you loved me, youd have tried to keep our family together! You wouldnt have gotten divorced! Youve ruined everything!
Every word was like a knife to the heart. Sylvia saw his trembling lip, the angry tears in his eyes. He believed it. God help her, he actually believed every word.
James
Dad would have stayed with us! Wed have been a proper family!
Your father hasnt called you once in two years It escaped her before she could stop herself. Not once, do you understand?
Thats because youve stopped him! Grandma says you wont let him!
James turned and bolted from the kitchen. A moment later, she heard a crash from the hallway as his bedroom door slammed shut.
Sylvia stood rooted to the spot. The tea towels remained, half-folded. The old ticking clock on the mantle kept time, loud and hollow in the quiet. The silence pressed in on her.
She sat heavily on the stool by the table, burying her face in her hands. Hot, angry tears spilled over. John had cheated on her, sneaking about with some girl at his office for two months. When she found out, he barely mustered an apologya shrug and a muttered these things happen. How was she supposed to forgive that? How could she live with someone who lied so easily? And now, James thought all of lifes ruins stood at her feet. Her fault.
And Margaretsaintly in her housecoat, with her endless cups of tea and gentle sighsspun her careful web. Her darling boy could do no wrong; the blame must lie entirely with the difficult wife who refused to see sense and grin and bear it for the childs sake.
Sylvia wiped her cheeks and stared out at the greying sky. Nearly ten, her boy. But he didnt understand. Perhaps he wouldnt for a long time yet.
Three days dragged like treacle. James was there, but not therebreakfasting in silence, off to school, his head buried in his phone. When she asked about lessons, he grumbled indistinctly. Called him to tea, hed come, eat silently, gaze fixed on his plate. Try to hug him at bedtime and hed slip away, muttering a quick night, Mum, and close his door.
By Friday, Sylvia reached her limit. On the way home, she stopped off at the high street, bought his favouritesa Black Forest gateau, crisps, a big ham and mushroom pizza. Maybe they could watch a film, talk properly again.
She pushed through the front door, wobbling with shopping bags.
James! Come here and see what Ive got!
Silence.
James?
She ducked her head into his bedroom. Empty. The bedclothes were askew, books open on the desk. No school bag. His coat was gone from the peg too.
Her heart pounding, she grabbed her mobile and dialled his number. Long rings, thenclicked off. She texted: Where are you? Please ring me. The ticks turned blue. Hed read it.
No reply.
She tried again, and again. On the fifth attemptclicked off.
What is happening…?
With shaky hands she rang over and over, her fingers slipping on the screen. Ring, ring, ring.
A click.
Hello?
James! She pressed the phone to her ear. Where are you, darling? Whats happened? Are you alright?
Im fine. His voice was calm. Far too calm.
Where are you? Why did you go?
Im off to Dads. Im going to live with him from now on.
Sylvia froze in the middle of the hallway.
What?
Grandma said Dad wanted to take me. That at court he wanted to have me, but you insisted and so I stayed with you. But I dont want to live here any more. Id be happier with Dad.
James, wait
A short beep.
She dialled againclicked off. Againhis phone was switched off.
Half in panic, she darted for her coat, dropped her handbag, called a cab, hands shaking. Johns address was seared into her memory.
Twenty minutes in Friday traffic. Twenty minutes chewing her nails, replaying every sleepless worry.
The taxi stopped outside the old block of flats. Sylvia jumped out, didnt bother with the change, and dashed towards the buildingthen stopped.
James sat on a bench by the door. His coat hung open, the school bag beside him. His face was blotchy and red. His shoulders shook.
He was crying.
Sylvia rushed over, dropping to her knees right onto the damp paving stones, grabbing him by the shoulders. The cold soaked through her jeans, but she didnt care.
Are you hurt? Have you eaten? What happened? Why are you crying?
Her hands checked him over, arms, facewas he safe, was he here, was he whole? His cheeks were icy, his nose red from the cold, eyelashes sticking together with tears.
James looked up at her. His eyes were puffy, red rimmed, and there was such pain in them that Sylvias heart seized.
Dad sent me away, he said quietly.
Sylvia froze, hands still on his shoulders.
What?
Theres someone else therea woman. They have a little baby. He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing tears and grime across his cheek. He wouldnt even let me in. Told me I shouldnt have come. Said I should go back to Mum. And he just shut the door. Right in my face.
His voice broke on the last words. He turned aside, hiding his face, his shoulders quivering.
Sylvia pulled him close, hugging him fiercely, her face buried in his hairsmelling of cold wind and his lemony shampoo. For the first time in days, he didnt pull away. Instead, he gripped her coat and pressed his nose into her shoulder.
Lets go, she whispered after hed calmed just a little. Well settle all this, once and for all.
Fifteen minutes by taxi to Margarets bungalow on Oak Lane. James was silent, peering out at the passing streetlights. Sylvia held his small, cold hand, and he let her.
The door opened straight away, as if Margaret had been standing waitinga housecoat, her hair in curlers, fluffy slippers. The picture of homely comfort. But her eyes were sharp, wary.
Ohgoodness! Margaret exclaimed, wringing her hands as she retreated down the hall. What brings your mother here? Is she trying to turn you against meand your own father?
James stepped forward, across the threshold. Sylvia could see his backnarrow, tense, so terribly young in his old coat.
Grandma, said James, chin high, and there was a new note in his voiceolder somehow, steady, Have you been lying to me?
Margaret blinked. For a second, her mask slipped.
What, darling? Whatever do you mean?
I went to Dads. He turned me out. Why?
Sylvia watched her former mother-in-laws face twist and falter, her gaze darting in panic, heart-seeking, from grandson to her and back.
Darling, Margaret began, voice tight, its all your mothers fault, she
You said she wouldnt let me speak to Dad. That she banned him from calling. Said he missed me every day. Then why did he shut the door in my face? Why didnt he even want to talk to me? Why did he look at me like I was a stranger?
Hes just busy, hes
Or maybe Mum was telling the truth? James raised his voice. Margaret shrank back. That he never wanted me? Never wanted our family? He has his new wife, and their baby. They looked so happy together. Why would he need me? Im just a spare part. No one really cared, did they?
Margaret tried to recover, head up, jaw tight, something wild and mean in her gaze.
Its your mothers fault! she snapped, jabbing a finger towards Sylvia. She broke the family! She
Enough!
James shouted so that even Sylvia started. His voice echoed up the stairwell.
Im tired of your lies! His fists clenched, knuckles white. For two years you spun stories, but he didnt ring me, not even for my birthday. Im not coming back here. And dont ring me. If Dad doesnt want me, I wont want him either. Either of you. He turned, grabbing Sylvias hand. Come on, Mum. Lets go.
Margaret stood frozen in the doorway, mouth open, face ashen. For the first time Sylvia could remember, she looked lostsmall, vulnerable, stripped of her formidable armour of grievances.
Goodbye, Sylvia said gently, closing the door behind them.
At home, James ate two slices of cold pizza and drank three cups of hot tea with raspberry jam. He curled quietly on the sofa in a tartan blanket, nose still pink from the cold. Outside, night had fallen, and the lamplight cast gentle shadows across his face.
Mum?
Yes, love?
Im sorry.
Sylvia put her teacup on the table and watched her sonhis thin shoulders, wild hair, the stubborn crease between his brows.
Youve always tried your best for me. You worked so hard, cooked, washed, fussed over me. And I I let Grandma fill my head. I never trusted youIm sorry. I wont do it again. Ill believe what I see, not what Im told.
Sylvia smiled and slid closer, ruffling his hair. This time, he didnt dodge her touch. Instead, he leant into her side, just as he had when he was very small.
It had been a hard lesson, a cruel one. But, it seemed, he had learned it at last.
