My family and I live in entirely different townsquite the spread, really. We havent laid eyes on each other for over two decades, which is impressive, if nothing else. My parents are artists and sing in a choir; their lives are one never-ending road trip. When I turned five, I moved in with my grandmother. She wanted to make life a touch less complicated, so of course, she relocated to stay with her own relativesbringing her fresh grandchild in tow.
Initially, my mum and dad managed to pop round a couple of times a year, occasionally squeezing in a third visit if the wind was blowing in the right direction. But after a while, their visits became as rare as a sunny Bank Holiday, and eventually, I stopped expecting them altogether. Eventually, our communication dried up like a forgotten cup of tea.
When I was at university studying dentistry, in my third year, I got married. Now, my husband and I run our own dental surgery, and were not doing too badly, financially speakingthank goodness for British tooth decay. About a year ago, my parents suddenly resurfaced. They began ringing up the clinic because, obviously, they didnt even have my mobile number. Our phone calls consisted mostly of them moaning about their lives.
I listened to their endless complaints and kindly pointed out that theyd picked their path when they decided to leave me with Gran. Every now and then, theyd send my grandmother a few quid, but mostly she and I scraped by on her pension. She reminded me of this rather frequently, and I knew exactly how tight things werewe had to count our pennies for everything.
I did well at school, and to afford rent and some decent clothes, I worked nights in the hospital as an assistant. Now, I feel Ive built my own life, and my parents have theirs, and everyone should just get on with it.
When Mum and Dad realised I wasnt leaping to help, they started threatening to take me to court for financial support. Charming. Frankly, their words built a solid wall between us. If I ever wavered about whether I should help them out, those threats put a swift end to my doubts. Right now, I have no desire to be involved with them at all. Tell me, am I wrong, or should I be lending my parents a hand, after everything?
