The only thing I seem to associate with my father is arguing, shouting, and drama worthy of EastEnders. We grew up skint, and Mum worked herself to the bone, coming home well after dark just to earn enough for a loaf of bread. Dad? He was always on the hunt for another reason to kick off.
One day, we went to the market to buy veg. The bloke selling spuds cracked a joke with Mum, and we had a good laugh. Dad, meanwhile, looked at Mum like shed just insulted his favourite football team, and stayed silent.
When we got home, it turned into a full-on row. He shouted so loud the neighbours probably had their tea interrupted. Eventually, he hit Mumone of those moments you wish you could scrub from your memory.
Then came another classic disaster. Dads workmate joked that I looked nothing like him. Said I took after Mum, and didnt have a single thing from Dadcheers, mate. I was twelve at the time. Not long after, Dad left us, blaming Mum for spoiling me.
Money was tighter than ever after he scarpered, and we barely had enough for beans on toast. Dad didnt pay a penny in child support. Mum refused to get involved in court battles, so, really, she had to fend for herself. She took another job, and I did everything I could at school to get into uni. Thankfully, eventually I bagged a job.
In the end, I got marriedproperly, Mum saidand finally managed to lend her a hand financially. Then, out of the blue, I received a message. It was Dad. Apparently, he wanted to reconnect.
Now, I havent a clue what to do. Some folks reckon I should see him and have a chat, but honestly, I dont feel all that keen. I still remember the day he walked out. Hes like a stranger to me, and he certainly doesnt conjure up warm, fuzzy memories. I havent told Mum about the message yet. Not sure I will, to be honest. Im proper stuck on what to do next.
