James, youve thought about me at all? Emma asked softly, eyes on the kitchen table. I know you love your daughter. Im not trying to stop you seeing her but doesnt it seem odd that your exwife keeps milking you through the child? Because of her whims were forced to cut back on everything. When will it end?
Emma had come home early from work and was setting the table. It was Friday, which meant that later that evening James elevenyearold daughter from his first marriage, Poppy, would be arriving. The doorbell rang, and Emma hurried to the hallway. In the doorway stood James with his stepdaughter. The girl, without looking at Emma, slipped into the flat and tossed a brief Hey over her shoulder. James gave Emma a guilty glance and mumbled:
Hey, love. How was your day?
Fine, Emma replied, trying to mask her irritation. Come in, have dinner.
A tense silence settled over the table. James tried to lighten the mood, chatting about his day, but Poppy answered in monosyllables or stayed silent, deliberately ignoring Emma. She ate quietly, feeling a lump rise in her throat.
Dad, Mum said she urgently needs money for a new winter coat, Poppy blurted out. Her old one is tatty, shes embarrassed to go to school with it.
Alright, Poppy, James said calmly. Well talk after dinner.
Inside Emma, something boiled.
Money again, endless requests, she thought. How long will this go on?
After supper James and Poppy retreated to the bedroom for her homework. Emma stayed in the kitchen washing dishes, picking up fragments of their conversation.
Dad, you understand she really needs it. Shes the one pulling us through, and her Poppys voice dropped.
Cant your husband buy her a coat? James asked timidly.
Dad, what does the husband have to do with it? Hes broke! I wouldnt be asking if things werent dire. Youre a man, you should support her! Youre my dad! Poppy snapped.
Emma could no longer hold back. She flung the sponge into the sink and marched into the bedroom.
Ian, we need to talk, she said firmly.
Not now, Emma, James tried to dodge, were doing homework.
No, now, Emma insisted. Poppy, could you give us a minute?
Poppy frowned but left the room. Emma slammed the door shut and turned to James.
How long is this supposed to go on? she asked.
What do you mean? James pretended not to understand.
The money, Ian! Your exwife, Poppy, all of it! Were barely getting by, paying the mortgage, Ive cut myself off from everything, and you keep sending cash her way! Its outrageous!
Its my child, Emma. I cant just turn her away, James began to defend himself.
And what about me? About us? We have needs too! I cant even get my teeth treated because theres no money!
I get it, James said remorsefully. Ill talk to Olivia.
She wont listen! You know that. She always gets what she wants. Maybe you should remind her that shes got a husband who also has to look after his own family, Emma shot back, her voice rising.
Dont bring Olivia into this, Emma, James frowned. Shes a good mother.
A good mother? If she were, she wouldnt dump all her problems on you! She loves that you foot the bill, Emma retorted.
Thats enough! James exploded. Dont speak like that about my childs mother!
And dont forget you still have a real wife! One who loves and supports you! Emma cried out.
I love you, James whispered, but I cant abandon my child.
So maybe you should decide who you love more? Emma challenged.
James lowered his head, silent.
Whats all this shouting about? Emma asked, looking at a tearstreaked Emma. Are we arguing?
No, Poppy, James said, trying to calm his daughter. Everythings fine.
No, its not fine! Emma shouted. Your father and I are fighting because of you and your mother!
Because of me? Poppy raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Yes, because you constantly demand money, because you treat me like an empty space! Emma spat.
What am I supposed to do, love you? Youre nobody to me! Poppy snapped. I have my mum!
Emma felt as if shed been slapped. She stared at James, waiting for a word, but he only bowed his head.
Listen, Poppy, Emma said hoarsely, you can stay here as long as you like, but I wont put up with this any longer. My patience has run out. She left the room, leaving James and Poppy alone. Closing herself in the bedroom, Emma grabbed her phone and dialed a friend.
Hey, she managed through sobs, I need to talk.
The next day Emma met her friend at a café. She looked pale, barely touching her food. After listening, the friend asked, Emma, are you seriously thinking about a split?
I dont know, Emma admitted. I love Ian, but I cant live like this any longer. Hes torn between me and his exfamily, and I feel like a spare part. Im exhausted.
I get it. But maybe have another goat with him? Explain how you feel, what you need, the friend suggested.
Ive told him a thousand times! Emma waved her hand. He seems to understand, but nothing changes. He doesnt want to hurt his daughter, yet he hurts me.
What about Poppy? Have you tried talking to her? the friend pressed.
Talking to her is useless! She only listens to her mum and does everything to get under my skin. She doesnt see me as a person, Emma snapped.
Kids often repeat their parents behaviour, the friend noted. Maybe you should try to find common ground with her?
She cant stand me! She ignores me on purpose! Its impossible, Emma retorted.
But worth a try? the friend urged. If you show you want a better relationship, she might change.
Emma thought it over. She realised her friend had a point. If she wanted to save the marriage, she had to try, even if it meant swallowing her pride and reaching out to the stubborn teenager.
Alright, Emma finally said. Ill give it a shot, though Im not hopeful.
That evening, when Ian brought Poppy home, Emma decided to act. She emerged from the kitchen with a tray of scones and tea. Poppy was curled on the sofa, eyes glued to her phone.
Poppy, Emma said, would you like some tea and a scone?
Poppy glanced up, her gaze sharp.
Im not hungry, she replied.
Just try one, Emma offered, setting the tray down. I baked them myself.
Reluctantly Poppy took a bite.
Tasty, she muttered.
Im glad, Emma smiled. Come sit, Ill get you a cuppa.
Poppy sat down, still looking wary. Not long ago the stepmother had shouted at her; now she was being offered a treat.
Poppy, I want to talk, Emma began. I know you dont like me being around your dad.
And why should I? Poppy shot back. Youre not my mother.
I get that, Emma nodded. Im not trying to replace anyone. I just want peace. Your father suffers because of our fights.
Poppy stared into her mug.
I know you love your mum, and thats fine. But it doesnt mean you have to hate me. I love your dad too, Emma continued.
Youre lying! Poppy exclaimed. You both only argue!
We argue because its hard, Emma admitted, but that doesnt mean we dont love each other.
She waited, watching Poppys face soften as she examined the pattern on the tablecloth.
Poppy, Ive never wished you harm. I just want us all to be happy. Youre the daughter of the man I love most, understand?
Poppy lifted her eyes, meeting Emmas. The hostility seemed to melt away.
Really? she whispered.
Really, Emma replied, I could swear on it right now.
At that moment Ian walked in, surprised to see Emma and Poppy sitting together in calm.
Everything alright? he asked.
Were just having a chat, Emma said, smiling at him.
The evening turned out wonderfully. Poppy played Twister with her stepmother, and Ian laughed heartily. For the first time, Poppy showed no aversion to Emma. She turned out to be quite nice after all.
