12October2025
Im exhausted. Endless nights out, fleeting flings, a parade of first dates have left me jaded. Then I met Emily bright, witty, and surprisingly thoughtful. We slipped into a little café on Camden, let the street buskers provide the soundtrack, swapped stories about my recent promotion and her obsession with contemporary verse. The fact that we both favor a Christmas salad with apples made me think, maybe this is different.
Emily invited me to her flat for dinner, the perfect setting for a fastmoving romance. I dug out my best shirt, shaved, memorised a few odd lines from one of her favourite poets, bought a bunch of roses and a bottle of red. I left the house feeling buoyant, as confident as a cat that circles its bowl fifteen times a day. The evening felt meticulously planned, every detail accounted forexcept for the line: Good evening, Im Stan. My mums in the shower, come on in.
When I arrived, a squarejawed, almost boyish face stared down at me. The owner of that face extended a hand that could easily have wrapped around my head. At first I thought Id knocked on the wrong door, but when Stan let out a loud, comical sneezenose pinched, mouth shut, just like Emilymy doubts vanished. My mood began to dip, the wine soured, the roses wilted.
Inside, Stans sneakers caught my eye. They were so oversized I could have slipped my own shoes into them and still have room to grow. Emily was almost waisthigh on a step stool, a sight that made me think how useless it is that women cant quite make gold out of everything. I imagined handing her a ring, only to find ourselves married in ten yearsquite the investment. I drifted to the kitchen where the table was already set and Stan was swapping curtains without a chair.
Five minutes, Ill be out! I heard from the bathroom.
Five rounds of five minutes later, the door finally opened, and Emily emerged in an evening dress, makeup sparkling. Seeing my sour expression, she instantly caught on, and the nervous flutter in me dissolved along with any hint of romance.
She placed the plates down for us, poured the wine herself and, without waiting for me, began to eat.
Why didnt you tell me you have a child? I blurted, feeling cheated.
Scared of the trailer, were you? she replied with a rueful smile.
Its not a trailerits a whole train.
Its big, isnt it? Hes from a remote Yorkshire village, taller than any of us, once wrestled a bear barehanded.
And where is he now? I swallowed hard.
Hes on tour with that same bear. He left us for a big stage. Sometimes he writes letters, but the handwriting looks like the bearsmore conscience than his.
How old is he? I gestured toward the wall.
Fourteen, just got his passport.
Strong?
Very funny.
We ate in silence; conversation just wouldnt stick.
More meat? I asked, extending my plate.
Like it?
Honestly, Ive never tasted anything finer. What is this?
Venison. Stans prepared it.
Wow, hes talented.
He inherited a cookbook, a set of knives, a pair of fishing rods, a boat and a bunch of other junk his dad left him.
A boat? I gulped.
Its stored in the basementwell, sometimes its there. Hes an avid fisherman.
Emilys phone buzzed; she excused herself to answer.
Its about time I head home, I thought. There was nothing left for me here.
Emily rushed back, eyes wide. We had an accident at work. Could you look after Stan for a couple of hours?
What? Me and Stan? I was taken aback.
Hes a minor, you never know what could happen. People are wandering around apartments these days
Youre afraid someone will kidnap him?
Look, Ill pay you for the lost evening and for babysitting, then never call again. Deal?
What should I do with him?
Just chat, you know, mens stuff, and Ill be off.
Before I could answer, she was gone. I sat in the kitchen, drained my phone, finished the meat, finished the wine, and waited. The door to Stans room creaked open and familiar sounds drifted out.
Impossible, I muttered and knocked.
Open.
I pushed the door gently and stepped into the kids room. The first thing I saw was a large wooden target studded with knives and arrowsno holes in the walls, the arrows always hit. A vinyl record player sat on the table, Iron Maiden humming softlyone of my favourite bands. Stan was in the corner, tinkering with fishing gear. On a shelf were trophies, a punching bag hung from the ceiling, and a brandnew gaming console lay beside the TV.
Your mum does well for you, I whistled enviously. Id always dreamed of a room like this.
I work in the summer, Stan replied, making me feel a little ashamed. I imagined Emily scrambling for endless cash for her son, while he was perfectly selfsufficient.
Do you have a charger for my phone? I asked, holding it up.
Its by the railway line, Stan pointed.
The railway line? I repeated, stunned, and when I turned I saw a fullscale railway set, almost breathtaking.
You built it yourself? I whispered, not wanting to break the spell.
Yeah, I keep buying bits, planning a second level and a few bridges. A new box of tracks just arrived, but I cant reach them yet.
Heat rose to my head and heart.
Can I run the loop? I asked.
One minute, he said, standing tall and crossing the room in a single stride.
***
Emily returned an hour later, certain Id disappeared, and hurried straight to Stans room, catching the two of us assembling the railway. At first glance it was hard to tell who was older.
Charlie, you should go home, she whispered.
Ohright! I leapt up. What time is it?
Half past eleven, she yawned, exhausted. I have another incident at work tomorrow morning, so I need sleep. She walked me to the door, kissed my cheek, and handed me a few notes.
I dont take money from women, I said, looking disgusted.
Fine, thanks for watching my trailer.
I forced a brief smile and left.
***
A couple of days later I called.
Hey, can I come over again?
My jobs a mess right now, no time for dating. Our last meeting
Can I see Stan?
Stan? What for? Emily asked, puzzled.
I thought maybe I could look after him for a bit, keep an eye on the kid.
Ill have to ask him.
Ive already texted him. Hes fine. I bought a new game for his Xbox, well hang out, you can go about your business.
Alright, come tonight.
That evening I arrived in a completely different guise. No shirt, no cologne, no wine, no brooding starejust a plain black tee with my favourite bands logo, a backpack stuffed with crisps and soda, and a boyish grin.
Just be quiet, I have a twohour video call soon, Emily greeted me in a housecoat, a fabric mask over her face, onions scent lingering.
I nodded and slipped into the kids room.
Emily barely managed to separate Stan and me as they argued over Balabanov versus Guy Ritchie, each defending his favourite director with fierce passion. They were about to launch a sixhour film marathon when Emily intervened, declaring them both victims of bad taste, and ushered me toward the door.
Dont forget the bait for Saturday! Stan shouted from the room.
What bait? Emily shot me a look.
Were going pike. I told Stan theres a shop with topnotch bait. I havent been fishing in ages.
Youre friends, arent you? Want to spend time with me?
Come with us, slice some sandwiches.
Fine, nothing else to do. Go on, enjoy your fishing, Emily said, pushing me out. Work always eats my time anyway. At least the kid gets something to do.
***
A month passed. Emily threw herself into work, romance became a distant memory. Stan and I used the time productively: we finished the railway, collected crabs, brewed a traditional ale from an old recipe he inherited, and he taught me basic forest navigation. I, in turn, gave him a crash course in flirting and helped him ask a girl from his class out on a date. Everything ran smoothly until one evening a knock at the door sent down a cascade of lights from the ceiling.
Emily opened it and was immediately hit by the scent of bear meat. On the doorstep stood her exhusband, Tom, and Stans father.
Ive finally realised, Tom said, kneeling despite his towering heightstill taller than Emily. Potap and I are tired, we want a quiet family life. Ive saved enough; Ill take you and Stan back to the village. Youll quit your job, well go fishing and hunting together.
Ha! What a joke. Ten years and you suddenly get it. Did your bear also decide to return to the family?
No Actually I signed a contract with a film studio behind my back, Tom muttered.
So thats it, Emily crossed her arms. You just abandoned me.
It doesnt matter! The main thing is Im He stopped as I entered in Emilys old Tshirt, my own shirt stained from the days work with Stan.
Someone finish a sentence in this flat? Emily asked, scanning the men.
Whats that? Tom asked, fist ready.
Its its Emily stammered, unsure what to do.
Stan burst from his room, slammed Toms arm against the wall, and the man let out a howl.
Thats a trailer! Stan hissed.
Stan! Son! Its me, dad! What trailer? Tom rasped, writhing.
Its the trailer that helps us move everything you left behind.
But I never left anything, Tom said, finally grasping the meaning.
Emily and I huddled in the corner, watching the giant clash.
Okay, okay, break, Tom shouted, releasing his grip. Youre strong, kid. Maybe I can go hunting with you tomorrow, talk about lost time. Im a father, after all.
Emily looked between her ex and me, lost for words.
Yes, I get it, I said, standing. Im heading out.
Sorry Tom whispered.
***
The next morning father and son left at dawn; Stan returned late, alone.
Wheres dad? Emily asked, irritated.
Hes gone, Stan said, slipping off his shoes.
What do you mean gone? Just up and left?
Not exactly, Stan shook his head. He took the bear in a trailer, drove it to town for training, found a new partner for shows, dropped me off and left.
Stupid me, Emily muttered, slamming her forehead. I should call you, Charlie.
I just said goodbye. He drove me home. Hell be back tomorrow.
How did he know where to pick me up?
He said he was keeping an eye on us, making sure were all right.
And he said hes attached to us now, unlikely to ever detach?
Yes.
The diary ends here, but the feeling lingers: a tangled mess of halffinished plans, unexpected responsibilities, and the lingering scent of bear stew in a flat that never quite feels like home.
