Frank, are you hearing yourself? So Im supposed to go round pregnant in my forties to atone for your misspent youth?
And why on earth should I pay for the fact that you found tinkering out in your shed more interesting than spending time with your own son? Margarets voice was edged with real bewilderment.
Oh, Maggie, do give it a rest! Frank pressed on. I was a fool, all right! Didnt appreciate what I had, didnt see what I was losing. And now its gone, David doesnt even count me as his father!
And wheres he wrong, exactly? Margarets smile was rueful. For seventeen years he lived not with a father, but a roommate. Did you think children work like tellys, to be switched on and off when you fancy playing at being Dad?
Franks face clouded, his brow knitted. Margaret recognised the familiar flash of irritation in his eyes the same look he always had when it came to his responsibilities as a father.
Maggie, thats enough. All thats water under the bridge now. Just give me another chance, he insisted stubbornly.
So you can have your fun and leave me with everything again, and another child growing up without a father? Margaret folded her arms. No, thanks, once was more than enough! No, Frank, thats not even up for discussion.
A grimace of hurt and anger twisted Franks face. With no reply, he merely grunted and buried himself in his phone.
The row was over. For now. But the problem lingered, weighing heavily on Margarets heart. She wasnt even angry for Franks absurd demands anymore it was her son, David, she pitied.
Margaret had been just twenty-three when David arrived. Even now, she remembered standing outside St. Marys Hospital, weary but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a white blanket.
Frank hovered over them like a hawk, hardly budging a step. He gleamed with happiness, constantly fussing with the blanket, kissing Margarets brow, sometimes reverently lifting his son for a cuddle.
Hes the image of me! Even that little dimple in his chin, he said, eyes shining. Im a father now, Maggie!
Im only beginning to understand it. Ill do everything for him with him! Ill take him adventuring, change his nappies, teach him football Ill be the best dad in the world, youll see!
Margaret looked at him with the same awestruck gleam in her eye, believing every word. She truly thought they would have the perfect family, full of love, care, and shared joy.
But, as often happens, reality proved far harsher and more ordinary
Deep night. She walked, hollow-eyed, up and down the lounge, cradling the wailing baby plagued by wind. It was the third such night in a row. Frank merely grumbled in his sleep, dragging the quilt over his head.
Cant you quiet him down, honestly? he hissed, barely above a whisper. Ive work in the morning!
In those moments, Margaret slipped away to another room, tears of helplessness stinging her eyes. The babys cries grew louder, but she had no choice. Closing the door, she rocked David for hours, just so Frank could sleep.
Come Saturday, drained by week upon week with no sleep, she pleaded softly:
Frank, could you just walk with him for two hours? Im dead on my feet, I need to sleep
Maggie, later, yeah? Nows no good, plans already. The lads said I could take a look at the old car engine today.
But I really cant go on
Oh, youre tough, love, you can manage! Ill come back and help you after.
The door would shut, leaving Margaret alone with her supposed “strength” and the relentless duties of motherhood. “After” never seemed to arrive.
Time slipped by. David grew. Margaret tried, time and again, to forge some link between father and son. Shed approach Frank slouched in his chair, glued to the football. Shed bring over their little rosy-cheeked boy, arms reaching out.
Hold him, play with him a bit, she asked, more now for the sake of their family than herself.
Frank would take the boy, reluctantly as if handed something odd. He held the child at arms length, barely looking down, his eyes on the telly. A minute, two at most, and then hed plop David on the floor and turn back to the match.
Then David was five, building a castle from blocks on the carpet in the sitting room. Frank would pass by to the sofa, not even glancing his way. The boy didnt look up either. He was used to a father absent in all but name.
You couldnt call Frank entirely useless he paid the bills, sometimes helped Margaret with tea or tidying up.
But he had missed his sons whole childhood. No wonder, then, that now, David no longer saw him as his father.
Hows school, David? Frank tried to show interest every now and then.
Uhfine. All fine, David replied, a little lost.
Doing alright with your grades, I hope? Tell me if youre struggling. I can help a bit, you know. Educations important.
Dont want my son ending up cleaning the streets!
No, Dad, Im alright. Everythings fine, David said, trying to slip away to his room as quickly as he could.
Well, all right. We could go fishing at the weekend, if you like! Frank shouted after him.
But David didnt answer. Only Margaret knew he had the school disco that night, that hed plucked up the courage to ask a girl he liked, and shed turned him down. That fishing was the last thing on his mind.
It was clear the moment had long gone. David wasnt that little boy waiting for his Dad anymore. The childhood Frank longed to reclaim had ended for good.
When he realised it, Frank set his heart on another fresh start a second child. But Margaret, who remembered every sleepless night, refused outright.
Soon, word of the trouble in their home reached the family.
Love, I know the lot, Franks told me everything, Margarets mothers voice was kind, if weary. Listen to your mum, go for a second. Franks changed, grown up! Dont rob him of another chance. What happiness it is to raise a baby once more!
The mother-in-law felt compelled to add her own tuppence.
Maggie, if you dont say yes, you could lose him, she warned. A man dreams of being a father.
If you dont agree, someone else will. Think about it, its in your own interest too. Your firstborn will soon fly the nest. A second will bind your marriage, give you support in your old age.
It stung Margaret all the more to hear this from another woman. It was as if her life, her body, had become the object of some haggling.
No one saw her as a weary woman, someone whod done this journey once and remembered all too well how it ended just a wife and a mother, not a person.
In desperation, Margaret hatched a plan. A touch absurd, but clear in its message. She dug out Davids old things from the attic, and there at the bottom, an old yet working Tamagotchi.
A tiny digital pet, needing feeding, entertaining, nursing, and cleaning. When Frank came home, Margaret handed him the plastic egg with its little grey screen.
Whats this? he asked, baffled by the “gift”.
Its your trial period. Try experiencing even a tenth of real fatherhood. You need to care for it feed it round the clock and see to it.
Just like with a baby, except all you do is press buttons. If after a year your Tamagotchis still alive, Ill believe youre really ready for a child.
At first, Frank looked at her, then burst out laughing, thinking it a joke. But seeing her unflinching face, his amusement soured into irritation.
Youre serious? Comparing a real baby to this thing?
Start with this. If you cant even manage it, are you really ready for another child?
With a cocky grin, Frank pocketed the gadget, sure it would be easy. For the first three nights, he gamely woke to feed his digital pet. By the fifth, he was seething, but carried on out of stubbornness. After a week, he grumbled that the lack of sleep was ruining his work.
On the eighth day, he came home and tossed the Tamagotchi on the table. A cross stared from the screen hed failed.
Forgot to feed it. Chaos at work, Frank muttered, avoiding her gaze.
From then on, the arguments and bickering simmered, if less fiercely. The rift was there still, but Frank pressed his case no more.
Three years later, life settled all scores. David, now a university student, brought his girlfriend home, and not long after, they announced they were expecting.
Frank changed again, brimming with excitement. He talked now of second chances, this time as a grandfather.
He splashed out on a pram with saved-up pounds, bought babygrows far too large and fancy construction sets with tiny pieces. He swore, hand on heart, hed be the best granddad, abuzz with helping out, walking the pram, babysitting.
Margaret watched, her scepticism intact.
After the grandchild was born, the pattern repeated: for a few weeks, Frank was forever present, rocking the baby, posing for photos. But as the thrill faded, he lost interest again.
Pressed by Frank, the young couple soon rented their own flat, and Franks involvement dwindled to the occasional, carefully arranged weekend visit, when all was in order and the baby content and smiling.
If the child fussed, Frank was quick to find urgent business: a work call, a sudden meeting, his mother needing help with the garden.
It was Margaret stepping in, looking at her son, his equally tired partner, and realising she had chosen rightly.
David had grown into a caring, responsible man, never leaving his wife to cope alone. And Frankhe remained ever as he was a man enamoured with the idea of fatherhood, not its meaning.
What do you think? Was the wife right in her decision? Share your thoughts and leave a like if you found this story thought-provoking!
