One afternoon, as usual, I am playing a board game with my sixyearold son, Oliver. Suddenly there is a firm knock at the front door. I swing it open and see a woman I havent thought about in years my exwife, Margaret.
Mary and I have been married for seven years, and Oliver is six. Life has been fairly comfortable; we enjoy our son and often talk about having another child. I would really love a daughter.
As time goes on, Mary starts to keep her distance. I sense something is off, and eventually we end up sleeping in separate beds. She brushes it off as fatigue and a bad mood.
A few friends later help me see the truth. They tell me they saw Mary being driven to work by a handsome stranger who held the door open for her in a gentlemanly way.
I am reluctant to accept it, hoping our love can survive for the sake of our child. I decide not to postpone the conversation, so that evening I ask Mary directly about her infidelity. She cant answer, packs a bag and leaves, leaving Oliver with me.
I am, of course, relieved to have Oliver at home, but Im also stunned by his mothers apparent indifference. Is she really such a bad mother? Does she not love her child?
The early days are hard. There are countless moments with Oliver when Im at a loss. I turn to family, friends, and online parenting forums for advice. At first Oliver misses his mother, but eventually he gets over it.
Four years later our life improves markedly. I dont skimp on anything for Oliver, and we travel around the UK quite a bit.
Then, just as before, I am playing a game with Oliver when a knock sounds at the door. I open it and see Margaret again. She looks exactly as she did four years ago perhaps even better yet Oliver pays her no attention. She stands there, unsure what to do. She rushes forward, hugs him, kisses him, apologises, declares her lingering love, but Oliver turns his back on her.
I decide to invite everyone in for a cuppa to ease the tension. The first ten minutes are awkward and silent, but then Margaret starts talking
It turns out she wants to take Oliver with her. I give my son a chance to choose. I see his fear and uncertainty, and I suggest he could spend a few days staying with his mother to see how it feels.
All the while, a thought of loneliness nags at me. If Oliver likes his mothers plan, I might end up on my own, right?
The next morning Oliver returns. He says his mother isnt alone, but he wants to stay with me. Hell keep in touch with her, yet he isnt ready to move out.
