When the time came to choose which parent Id live with after the divorce, I picked my dad without a second thought. At thirteen, I was convinced he loved me moreafter all, he spoiled me rotten while Mum was always nagging. He was the peacekeeper; she was the one whod start rows. So when they split, I almost felt relieved. Dad was the breadwinner, toosurely hed give me a better life. Mum hoped Id choose her, but she didnt seem surprised when I didnt.
A year after we moved out, Dad found a new girlfriend. She was around Mums age, and he was smitten. She was perfectly polite to me, but there was none of Mums warmth. Then they had a baby together, and suddenly, I might as well have been invisible. Theyd jet off on little trips without me, or host fancy dinners when I wasnt around. My room became a nursery, and between the midnight feedings and the babys wailing, I hardly slept. Dad didnt care how it affected my schoolwork or my mood. He didnt even blink when I started staying out late with mates.
Eventually, I realised this couldnt go on. I had uni plans, and if I kept losing sleep, Id never pass my A-levels. Swallowing my pride, I rang Mum.
Can I come stay with you for a bit? I asked, bracing for hesitation. I barely called, let alone visited.
Of course, love, she said instantly. Stay as long as you like. The babys driving you mad, isnt she?
I felt a pang for her. Dad had his shiny new family, but Mum was still on her own.
Dad agreed without a fuss when I asked to move in with Mum temporarily. He promised to send child support, then never called. Oddly, it was easier this way. Maybe because Im older now, but Mum and I get on like mates. She fusses over me, makes dinners after worksometimes even treats me like a kid again. Dad? We chat now and then, but he reckons Im grown.
If I could rewind time, Id probably choose Mum. But then again, maybe Id have wondered if the grass was greener with Dad. Sometimes I wonder if Dad even notices Im gone. Last week, I passed his house on my way home and saw the babys toys scattered across the lawn, the front door left wide open. I didnt stop. Instead, I kept walking, hands in my pockets, toward the bus stop where Mum was waiting, her coat pulled tight against the cold, a thermos of tea in her hand for me. She smiled when she saw me, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.
