«It’s not for you to decide where my son lives,» declared his ex-wife, stepping over the threshold.
«Dad, when is Mum coming?» asked Oliver, setting aside his maths workbook.
James Wilson looked up from his newspaper and studied his son. The boy was only eight, but his eyes already carried a sadness too grown-up for his age.
«I dont know, mate. She said shed come at the weekend, but its only Wednesday.»
«But is she really coming? Last time she promised, then called and said she had something important.»
James sighed. How could he explain that Olivers mother now lived in another city with another man and that these visits were just an obligationa duty she performed once a month, buying a toy, taking him to a café, then vanishing again?
«Shell come, Olly. She promised.»
«Alright,» the boy said, picking up his textbook again. «Can I watch cartoons later?»
«Finish your homework first, then well see.»
James turned back to his paper, but he couldnt focus. Three years since the divorce, and he still hadnt managed to rebuild his life. Work, home, Olivera never-ending cycle. His mates suggested finding a woman, starting fresh, but how could he let anyone close when his son still waited for his mum?
By the time Oliver closed his books, night had fallen.
«Dad, whats for dinner tomorrow?»
«Spaghetti bolognese. Your favourite.»
«Yeah.» The boy smiled. «And salad?»
«And salad. Cucumber and tomato.»
They headed to the kitchen together, James pulling ingredients from the fridge while Oliver perched on a stool, swinging his legs, chattering about school.
«Tom Parker fell in P.E. today and scraped his knee. There was blood! The teacher took him to the nurse.»
«Nothing too serious, I hope?»
«Nah, just a bandage. Dad, why do Toms parents always come to parents evening together, but you go alone?»
James froze, the half-sliced cucumber on the chopping board.
«Well… Your mum and I have different jobs, different schedules.»
«Oh.» Oliver nodded, though he didnt seem convinced.
After dinner, the boy obediently brushed his teeth while James tidied up, making himself a cup of tea. The flat was quiet, the telly on low for background noise.
The next day at work, his colleague Michael brought up the topic again.
«Jamie, mate, give it a rest! What kind of mother just drops her kid like that? Popping in once a monthwhats that about? Oliver adores you, you know. Youre a good dad.»
«Mick, you dont get it. Theres no time for anything. School runs, homework, dinner, bedtime stories. Weekends are laundry, shopping, cleaning.»
«So find a woman wholl help! A decent one. A stepmum wouldnt hurt Oliver.»
«And if he doesnt like her? If his mum comes back and kicks off?»
«Shes not coming back! If she wanted to, shed have done it by now.»
James stayed silent. Deep down, he knew Michael was right, but admitting it hurt.
That evening, while Oliver did his homework, the doorbell rang. James checked the peephole and froze. There stood Emily, his ex-wife. He opened the door.
«Hi,» she said. «Can I come in?»
«Course. Olly! Mums here!»
The boy sprinted from his room, flinging himself at his mother. Emily hugged him awkwardly, as if shed forgotten how.
«Youve grown so much! Look at you.»
«Mum, are you staying long? Did you bring me a present?»
«Of course. But first, I need to talk to Dad.»
Oliver nodded and dashed back to his room. Emily walked into the living room, sitting on the sofa while James remained standing.
«Tea?»
«Go on, then.»
He boiled the kettle, brought two mugs. Emily looked wellfresh haircut, expensive clothes, manicured nails. Life in London clearly suited her.
«Hows work?» James asked.
«Good. Decent pay, too. How about you?»
«Not bad. Olivers doing well at school.»
She hesitated, then straightened.
«James, I came to talk. Michael and I are getting married.»
«Congratulations.»
«And I want Oliver to live with me.»
James felt his stomach drop. The mug trembled in his hand.
«What?»
«I want him with me. Im stable now, good job, Michaels fine with it. And you? Always at work, hes left to his own devices.»
«Emily, are you serious? Hes settled hereschool, friends. And you just»
«Just what? I was young, scared of responsibility. Now Im ready.»
«Have you even asked Oliver what he wants?»
«Hes a child, he doesnt know whats best. I can give him more.»
James stood, pacing.
«Emily, listen. Three years, barely any contact. Once-a-month visits, sometimes not even that. And now suddenly you want him back?»
«I have every right! Im his mother!»
«Mother?» James snapped. «A mothers the one who sits up all night when hes ill. Helps with homework, takes him to the doctor, buys his clothes. Whatve you done?»
«I was working! Sorting my life out!»
«Right. And who sorted Oliver out? Who raised him? Who»
«Keep your voice down!» Emily hissed. «Hell hear.»
James lowered his tone but not the anger.
«Why now? Why suddenly decide you need him?»
Emily looked away, out the window.
«Michael wants kids. I cant have morethe doctors said. So we thought Oliver… Hed adjust.»
«So thats it. You need a child for your new husband, and now you remember youve got one. Convenient.»
«James, dont. Ive missed him.»
«Missed him?» He scoffed. «But not enough to call? Ask how he was? You forgot his birthday last year!»
«I was busy»
«Enough,» James cut in. «Everyone was busy. Oliver grew up without you. Now you waltz back in and claim rights?»
Footsteps from the hallway. Oliver peered in.
«Mum, are we going out? The cinema or something?»
Emily forced a smile.
«Of course, love. Just need to finish talking with Dad.»
Oliver vanished again. Emily waited, then pressed on.
«James, Ive made up my mind. Ill go to court if I have to. Ive got the means, the stability. Whatve you got? A rented flat, an average job…»
«Ive got love for my son. Whatve you got?»
«Of course I love him! I just dont show it like you do.»
«Dont show it? Or dont want to?»
Emily stood, grabbing her handbag.
«Ill give you till tomorrow. If you agree, well sort it amicably. If not… The courts will decide.»
«You dont get to decide where my son lives,» James said firmly.
«Hes my son too! Ive got just as much right!»
«Rights are earned.»
She turned to leave, then called,
«Oliver! Come say goodbye!»
The boy ran out, hugging her.
«Mum, will I see you tomorrow?»
«Of course, love. Promise.»
Once the door closed, Oliver looked at James, confused.
«Dad, whats wrong? Were you fighting?»
«No, mate. Just… grown-up stuff.»
«Mum looked upset.»
James sat beside him on the sofa, pulling him close.
«Olly, tell me honestlydo you want to live with Mum?»
Oliver frowned.
«Where does she live?»
«London. Far from here.»
«What about school? And Tom? And Grandma?»
«Youd have a new school, new friends.»
Oliver shook his head.
«No. I want to stay with you. Visit Mum sometimes.»
«Alright, son. Alright.»
That night, James lay awake. Tomorrow, Emily would return for an answer. What would he say? That hed fight for his son? That hed never let him go? What if she took him to court? Could he afford a solicitor?
In the morning, as he packed Olivers schoolbag, the boy asked,
«Dad, if Mum takes me away, will you be sad?»
James crouched to meet his eyes.
«Oliver, no ones taking you anywhere. Were a family, understand?»
«Yeah.» He smiled. «What about Mum?»
«Shes family too. Just… not living here.»
«Like Auntie Claire? Shes family, but shes got her own house.»
«Something like that.»
At school, James spoke with the teacher. Oliver was doing wellno trouble, well-liked by classmates.
«Hes a responsible boy,» Mrs. Thompson said. «Clearly well-raised. Though sometimes he seems sad. Probably misses his mum.»
«Were divorced.»
«I see. Ever thought of remarrying? A proper family might help.»
James nodded noncommittally.
That evening, Emily arrived at seven sharp. Oliver ran to her, but she nudged him away.
«Love, go to your room. Dad and I need to talk.»
«But Mum»
«Go on, Olly,» James said.
Once alone, Emily got straight to it.
«Well? Decided?»
«Yes. Oliver stays with me.»
«James, dont be stubborn. Think about him! I can give him more.»
«More love?»
«Yes!»
«Then whyve you ignored him for three years?»
She exhaled sharply.
«Fine. Court it is. But rememberI wont back down. Michael supports me. Weve got the money for solicitors.»
«Still wont ask Oliver, will you?»
«Whats he got to do with it? Adults decide whats best.»
«Right. Oliver! Come here!»
The boy hurried in, sitting between them.
«Olly, Mum wants you to live with her. What do you think?»
Oliver looked from one to the other.
«Is it far?»
«Quite far,» Emily said. «But its nicebig house, your own room.»
«Ive got my own room here.»
«Its better there.»
«Will Dad live with us?»
«No, hell stay here.»
Oliver shook his head.
«No. I dont want to leave Dad. He takes me to school, helps with homework, reads to me.»
«Ill do all that!»
«Can you make pancakes? Play chess? Fix my bike?»
Emily faltered.
«Ill learn…»
«No,» Oliver said firmly. «I want to stay with Dad. Visit you sometimes.»
«Youve turned him against me!» Emily snapped at James. «Poisoned him!»
«Mum, Dad never said anything bad about you,» Oliver cut in. «He says youre just busy.»
Emily sank into the sofa, covering her face. When she looked up, her eyes were red.
«I thought hed want to be with me.»
«Do you want him?» James asked quietly. «Or does Michael just want a ready-made child?»
She was silent for a long time.
«I dont know,» she admitted finally. «Part of me does. But Im scared, too. What if I mess up? What if he doesnt love me?»
«Mum, I do love you,» Oliver said. «I just want to live here.»
Emily hugged him tightly, crying.
«Alright,» she whispered. «Stay with Dad. But… can I visit more?»
«Course,» James said. «Any time.»
«And call?»
«Call whenever.»
She kissed Olivers head, stood.
«Id better go. Need to explain to Michael.»
«Mum, youre not angry?» Oliver asked.
«No, love. Not angry.»
After she left, Oliver stood by the window, watching her taxi drive off.
«Dad, will she really visit more?»
«I think so. She loves you.»
«Then why did she want to take me away?»
«Grown-ups get confused, Olly. Think they know best when they dont.»
«Oh. Dad, can we have pizza tonight? Instead of spaghetti?»
«Sure.»
A week later, Emily called, talking to Oliver for half an hour about school, friends, weekend plans. She promised to visit in a fortnight.
A month after that, James met a woman in the parkAnna, another single parent with a daughter, Lily. They chatted while the kids played.
«Long time on your own?» she asked.
«Three years. You?»
«Two. Tough, isnt it?»
«Sometimes. Worth it, though.»
Oliver and Lily got on well, swinging together, building sandcastles.
«Dad,» Oliver whispered as they walked home, «Annas nice. And Lilys cool.»
«Yeah, they are.»
«Can we see them again?»
«Course.»
And James thoughtperhaps Michael was right. Life went on, and he deserved happiness too. As long as Oliver was happy. And judging by the boys grin, chatting about his new friend, he was.
