We left the maternity ward, just the two of us. There was no one waiting, no flashing cameras, nobody thrusting a bouquet into my handsthough, truth be told, it wouldve looked rather odd to give flowers to a man.
My mother was alive and well, nothing tragic had happened. She simply didnt want a child; she told me that herself, straightforward and without pretence. I begged, I pleaded, I even gave her an earful, desperate for something to change her mind. After all, I was nearing forty and had no childrenthis could well be my only chance to carry a piece of myself into the future.
In the end, we agreed: she would go through with the birth, and immediately after, we parted ways, divorced on the spot. She assured me shed pay child support without any fuss. Pride tempted me to refuse at first, but her words stuck with me: Life is long, you know. Anything can happen. Youre not exactly a spring chicken, and Im still much younger. I dont want the child, but hes mine all the same. At least let this be your safety net… for later.
Those first days were restless, but I persevered. After all, look at how many women manage on their ownwhy should I be any different? Plenty of blokes bring up children solo these days, and they turn out just fine. My son, Thomas William, grew stronger each day, a happy and healthy lad.
But as little Tommy got older, the questions about his mother began. How was I supposed to tell my boy his mum didnt want him at all? Scrambling for an answer, I finally said, I found you in a cellar.
What cellar? he asked, wide-eyed.
That one, just next door, I replied, pointing vaguely.
From that day, the cellar beckoned Tommy like a magnet. On our walks, whenever I got distracted, hed sneak off to peer into the vents and quietly call for his mother. But always, the only reply was silence.
One day, though, Tommy heard something. His heart thudded so hard he barely noticed anything else. The door to the block was ajar, and Tommy dashed inside, straight to the cellar. At first it was pitch-black, but his eyes quickly adjusted. He tiptoed deeper, wanting to shout, but his throat tightened with a sob, so his call emerged as a choked whisper:
Mum? Mum, are you there? Its meTommy… Ive come to find you!
No answer. Tommy stood still, sniffling, listening hard. A faint shuffling came from a corner, and wiping away his tears on the back of his grubby fist, he moved toward the sound.
Maybe Mum was poorly, too weak to come out and find him. Hed find her himself, and shed be overjoyeddelighted to see him! He inched closer, crying and smiling at the same time, thinking how everyone else had a mum and now he would too.
But in the corner, curled up on a pile of old rags, was a cat. A cat wary of its unexpected guest, sheltering a tiny, squirming kitten beneath her.
Mum?
Disappointment split Tommy in two. His legs buckled, and he slid down to sit on the floor. After a moment, he looked up at the cat again. When youre only five, the world and its logics work differently. And often, those ways are simpler, even more honest than grown-up thinking.
Tommy considered. He remembered Ellie at nursery, who insistedshowing off her thick curly hairthat her father was a centaur. Tom claimed his dad was an alien (and had compelling evidence too). So why couldnt Tommy have a cat as a mum?
The cat seemed to sense this gentle boy meant no harm. She approached and pressed her head against his palm.
So youre my mum, then?
He asked with such hope, so much child-like certainty, that he made himself believe it. Tommy wouldve stood his ground to anyone who dared argue. He scooped up the cat and hugged her close, and the cat, docile, settled into his arms.
By the time I noticed Tommy was missing, hed been gone a fair while. My heart pounding, I rushed about the estate, calling out, Tommy! Tom! Where are you, lad?! Seconds crawled by, each adding another grey hair to my head. Then, finally, Tommy emerged from the cellar, cradling the cat and her kitten.
To my anxious greeting he announced, I found my mum. And this, I think, is my little sister… They were in the very cellar where you found me.
I was gobsmackednot a clue what to say. How could I unravel the truth just like that? Impossible. So I went along with it.
How do you know shes your mum? I asked.
He shrugged, Just do… She looked at me like she knew. Tommy clutched the cat. Can we go home, Dad? I think Mums tired.
Tommy was elated. Hed found his mum! Never mind that sister turned out to be a brother (all the better for proper boys games), and at night, their mum could purr them a story.
The nursery teachers simply accepted it. So what if his mum was a cat? After all, Kieran said his dad was an aeroplane, and even had a photo to prove it.
I fretted for ages, unsure how to start the conversation about reality. But looking at Tommys delight, I just let it be. It would sort itself out in time.
Since then, our home has been a zoo. Tommy, the cat, and her kitten teamed up for chaos, overturning anything not nailed downcat included, still sprightly enough to join in the mischief.
You lot will be the death of me! Id groan, picking up after them.
Tommy, with the cat and kitten at his side, would exchange knowing glancesa silent agreementand then scamper off to see how far they could push my patience. But why? Wellbecause Mum said they could.
