“Edward, do you even hear yourself? So, Im supposed to get pregnant at forty just to fix the mistakes of your youth?”
“And why, all of a sudden, am I the one who has to pay for the fact that you found tinkering in your shed more interesting than spending time with your own son?” Alice asked, her voice lined with genuine bewilderment.
“Alice, will you just stop already?” Edward pressed, his tone growing impatient. “Yes, I was hopeless! Didnt appreciate it, didnt get what I was losing. And now its all lost! Oliver doesnt even see me as his father at all!”
“And is he wrong?” Alices smile was sharp and tinged with hurt. “For seventeen years he didnt have a father, just a lodger sharing the house. Did you think you could just switch a child on and off like the telly, play the doting dad when the mood struck you?”
Edwards face darkened, his brow furrowed. That spark of irritationfamiliar and ever-presentlit his gaze. Alice had seen that look every time they touched on his fatherly duties.
“Alice, enough! Its water under the bridge now. Just give me another chance,” he pleaded stubbornly.
“So you can play at being a dad again and then leave it all to me, while another child grows up thinking fathers are like postmenpopping in and out? No, Edward. Once was enough, believe me. This isnt up for debate.”
His face twisted in indignation and anger, but he had no comeback. He just huffed and buried himself in his phone.
The conflict was overfor now. But nothing was solved, and Alice was left with a heavy weight on her chest. It wasnt just about Edwards absurd demands; it was her son, Oliver, she pitied.
…Alice had been twenty-three when Oliver was born. She still remembered standing outside the hospital, exhausted and elated, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped snugly in a white blanket.
Edward hovered over them like an anxious hawk, unable to keep his hands to himself, straightening the blanket, kissing Alice on the forehead, sometimes reverently lifting their son into his arms.
“Hes the spit of me! Look, hes even got my chin dimple,” Edward beamed, pride and wonder in his eyes. “Im a father now, Alice!”
“Its only just starting to sink in for me,” Alice grinned, sharing in his exhilaration. “Ill do everything for him, and with him! Walks in the park, nappies, teaching him to play football… Ill be the best dad ever, youll see.”
And Alice looked at him with trust and admiration, believing every promise. She thought theyd have the perfect family, filled with laughter, love, and togetherness.
But reality, as it so often does, painted a far less rosy picture…
…The dead of night. Alice, dark shadows under her eyes, paced the bedroom with a screaming baby in her arms, crying from colicagain, for the third time that night. All the while, Edward grumbled and pulled the duvet over his head with a groan.
“Cant you just settle him?” he hissed. “Ive got to be up early for work!”
Those were the times Alice would retreat to the spare room, defeated tears stinging her eyes. The baby cried even louder, but she had no other choice. Shed close the door and rock Oliver for hours just so her husband could get some sleep.
Saturday came. Shattered from a week with barely any rest, Alice asked, tentative:
“Edward… can you take him out for a walkjust for two hours? Im at my wits end, I need to sleep…”
“Lets do it later, yeah? Cant now, got plans. The lads are dropping round that car for me to have a look at,” Edward replied, barely glancing at her.
“But I really cant, Edward”
“Youre strong, Alice! Youll cope, you always do. Ill help when Im backpromise.”
The door closed, leaving Alice alone with her strength and the weary burden of motherhood. And that later never came.
Time ticked on. Oliver grew, and Alice kept trying to coax some bond between father and son. There she was, offering the chubby-cheeked toddlerarms outstretchedto Edward, who lounged in his armchair, absorbed in football. “Take him, play with him for a bit,” she pleadednot for respite, but to keep their family from falling apart.
Edward took Oliver awkwardly, as if hed been handed a suspicious parcel. Holding his son at arms length, he stared past him at the screen. A minute, maybe twothen he plopped Oliver back on the floor and turned back to the match.
Then Oliver was five. Sitting on the living room rug, building a castle from toy blocks. Edward breezed past him toward the settee, not so much as a glance at his child. Oliver didnt look up eitherhe was used to the absence.
Edward wasnt a complete deadbeat. He brought his wages home, even helped with cooking now and then.
But hed skipped out on his sons childhood. Was it any wonder, really, that Oliver, now grown, no longer considered him a father in any real sense?
“Howre things at school, son?” Edward tried, one day.
“Um, fine. Everythings alright,” Oliver stammered, already halfway out the door.
“Doing well with your grades, I hope? Just say if you need help, yeah? I could give you a few pointers. Educations crucialyou remember, you dont want to end up sweeping the streets!”
“No, Dad, Im alright. Honest,” Oliver called, escaping to his bedroom as fast as he could.
“Well, think about it. We could go fishing at the weekend if you fancy?” Edward shouted after him.
But Oliver never replied, and only Alice knew that tonight he had a school disco, that hed asked a girl he liked and shed turned him down, and that he didnt care much for fishing.
The moment had passed. Oliver was no longer the little boy craving his dads approval. The childhood Edward wanted to fix was gone, irretrievable.
When that reality dawned on him, Edward decided he wanted a fresh startanother child. But Alice, who remembered every sleepless night, was adamantly against it.
Soon, the familys arguments werent just their own.
“Listen, love, I know about the trouble,” Alices mother said gently. “Edward told me everything. Hes changed! Hes really grown up! Give him a second chance, love. Theres nothing as joyful as another little one in the house.”
Her mother-in-law chimed in, too.
“Alice, if you dont think about it, you could lose him,” she warned. “He wants to be a father. If not you, then someone else might. Besides, its good for you both! Olivers nearly ready to fly the nestyou need something to hold the marriage together. A second child will give you support in your old age.”
It hurt Alice, hearing these things from another woman. As if her life, her body, had become mere currency in somebody elses mad bargaining.
No one saw her as a woman tired to her bones, whod already walked this path once and knew exactly where it ended.
In her desperation, a plan took shapeabsurd, maybe, but something that might make a point. She dug out an old cardboard box from the loft, rooting through Olivers baby things until she came upon a battered, but still-working Tamagotchi.
The tiny digital pet needed feeding, playing with, cleaning up after. When Edward got back from work, Alice handed him the little plastic egg with its grey screen.
“Whats this?” he asked, baffled by the present.
“Your trial period. Try putting in just a tenth of the effort a real dad needs. You feed it, look after it, play with it, all to schedule,” Alice said, her voice level.
“Think of it as a stand-in for a real baby, except all you need to do is press buttons. Do it wrong, and itll beep until your ears ring. If, in a year, its still alive… then maybe Ill believe youre ready for another child.”
Edward gave her an incredulous look, then burst out laughing, thinking it a joke. But her deadpan expression silenced him.
“Youre serious? Comparing a child to this bit of plastic?”
“You learn to care for that first. If you cant keep that alive, what chance with a real child?”
He shrugged, smirking as if to say it was nothing. He stuffed the toy in his pocket.
The first three nights, he woke up, grumpy, but did the feeding and cleaning as required. By the fifth, he was losing his rag, but determined to see it through. At the end of the week, he started moaning about being too tired for work because of lost sleep.
On the eighth day, Edward came home and dumped the Tamagotchi on the kitchen table. On the screen, a little crossthe sign of failure.
“Forgot to feed it. Had a crisis at work,” he muttered, avoiding Alices eyes.
After that, the arguments dwindled but never quite cleared the air. The tension of hurt and misunderstanding hung in the house, but Edward stopped pushing so hard.
Three years later, life set things straight. Oliver, by then a university student, brought home his girlfriend, and soon after announced they were expecting a baby.
Edward was suddenly a man transformed, full of excitementthis time, for being a granddad. He showered the new parents with gifts: a pram bought with his savings, babygrows too big for a newborn, and toys with pieces much too small. Swearing hed be the best grandad in the world, promising to babysit and take little ones to the park.
Alice viewed his enthusiasm with a healthy dose of scepticism.
When their grandson was born, the cycle repeated. For the first few weeks Edward really did help, taking photos with the baby, pushing the pram. But before long, the buzz wore off. The young couple moved into a rented flat at Edwards suggestion, and his support dwindled to rare, carefully scheduled weekend visitswhen the baby was bathed, fed, calm.
If the baby cried, Edward would suddenly have urgent business: a work call, a last-minute meeting, his mothers garden needing attention.
Alice was the one who rolled up her sleeves and pitched in, watching her son with his tired girlfriend and understanding, deep down, that shed made the right choice.
Oliver grew into a considerate, dependable mannever leaving his partner to cope alone. As for Edward… He remained exactly as hed always been: a man in love with the idea of fatherhood, but never with the substance of it.
What do you think? Did Alice do the right thing? Share your thoughts below and dont forget to give a like!
