Mum, can you believe it? Dads new wife is illthey say its something serious.
Let me tell you a story from ten years ago. My husband and I raised two daughters, both off at university now. Id been looking forward to this time in my life, imagining a fresh start with him. Instead, he made his own plans and ran off with his secretary.
Im sorry, I never meant to hurt you, he said. But I love her.
That evening, he packed his things and left for a woman half his age. The girls were furious with him and wouldnt speak to him. It was awful for me, especially when the younger one kept trying to patch things up between us. Id love to erase that year from memorytime didnt heal the wounds, just taught me to live with them. I threw myself into my hobbies, growing rare plants and selling them. It kept me from sinking into despair.
Eventually, the girls forgave their dad and occasionally filled me in on his new life. He was happy with her, and later, they had a son.
Mum, can you believe it? Shes illthey say its serious.
Girls, please stop talking about them. I dont like it, Id say, becauseridiculous as it soundsI still loved my husband, and the thought of him with someone else put me in a foul mood. Years had passed, and yet, in my heart, he was still mine.
One Saturday morning, I woke to find a figure looming over me. I thought I was dreaminguntil I heard his trembling voice. Im sorry, I know its early. But II dont know what to do with the boy. He looked older, his hair streaked with grey. Behind him stood a little lad. Their son.
My wife passed last night, he went on. Theres the funeral to arrange, the girls are workingI just cant take him. Hes too young.
The boy was barely out of nappies. Still groggy, I stared at him, and suddenly, he piped up: Are you my auntie?
No, I snapped, ready to shut the whole thing down.
Mummy said we didnt have anyone.
I never even knew your mother.
But he was so sweetbig eyes, all trustand it wasnt his fault, was it? So I sighed and said, Do you like porridge? Come to the kitchen. Youll have breakfast, and then your dad will fetch you.
I made coffee for myself and porridge for the boy. Watching him eat, I couldnt help noticing how much he looked like my girls at that age. We spent the morning watching cartoons and reading their old storybooks. He was bright, chattyutterly lovely.
After that, my ex started bringing him round more often. We became friends, oddly enough. My daughters arent thinking of children yet, so this little ones become a sort of substitute grandkid.
Its been two years since his wife died, and recently, my ex asked if we might try living together again. Part of me wants that desperatelyI can picture us, the perfect little family. But the bitterness lingers. Can I really trust him?
If it doesnt work out, itll only hurt the boy. So here I am, torn. I love them both. But the fear of being fooled again? That wont budge.
