Mind what you say! Thats your brother, after all! My stepfathers hand came down on my head. It didnt hurt much, but the sting of embarrassment lingered. Mother, Margaret, shook her head disapprovingly. You were once a little boy who needed love and care. You had all that, didnt you? I felt a flicker of shame, though only a faint one.
As the years slipped by, I began to see that, in this cramped flat, I was becoming little more than a piece of furniture. Up to the age of five Id known a decent childhood, but then Father vanished, and Mother grew quiet, her eyes often glistening with tears.
I never dared ask her where Father had gone; all I knew was that the parents were separated. The next two years saw Margaret work long hours, exhausted, smiling rarely, and seeming perpetually downcast. I wanted to help, but I had no idea how.
My greatest help is to behave well, my grandmother often reminded me, turning away before adding in a low voice, Dont make a godforsaken mess of the boys life. So I did my bestobeyed my grandmother and Mother, kept my temper, and when I started school I studied diligently.
When, at last, Mothers spirits lifted, her face brightened and even her skin seemed younger, I was certain it was my doing. I was wrong. Margarets renewal came when she met Andrew Hawthorne. Soon after, they married, and Andrew moved into our flat.
This is Uncle Andrew, love, Mother said one evening. Hell be like a father to you.
Come off it, Mum, my new stepfather remarked, flashing a grin. Father? Im not sure Im cut out for that title, but Ill manage. I, however, could not accept him. His swagger, his habit of ruling the flat as if it were his own manor, and the way Mother stared at him with adoring eyes made my stomach turn.
I tried to rebel, to refuse his commands, but whenever I saw Mothers face fall, I fell silent. Even my grandmother urged me to behave: Your mother will stop straining herself on two jobs if youre a good lad. Andrew isnt a gold mine, but hes sober and diligent. So I settled, and the three of us managed to get alonguntil baby Yuri arrived, a chubby little brother who seemed to belong both to Mother and Andrew.
I watched the grownups fuss over this pinkcheeked, squealing bundle as if it were a kitten. One day I asked why they behaved so oddly, and Andrew snapped at me again, Mind what you say! Thats your brother, after all! The sting of the slap was minor; the humiliation was lasting. Mother shook her head once more. You were once that small boy who needed love and care. You had it then, didnt you? I felt a tiny pang of shame, but it soon faded.
Gradually I realised I was becoming, to the adults, an old stool they kept out of habita relic from the old terraced house theyd left behind. People stepped around me, barely noticing when they brushed past. It seemed a shame to toss the sturdy stool away; it held memories.
My imagination ran wild. Left to my own devices, I read voraciously and dreamed of becoming a psychologist. That ambition died quickly; there was little time for books when Mother needed help around the house while Andrew was often away at work, and she struggled to raise Yuri alone. I secretly hoped Mother would notice me more under those circumstances, but she was consumed by caring for the younger boy and her husband. Only my grandmother showed me affection, and she passed away when I turned thirteen. That loss finally ignited a true rebellion.
I didnt sign up to be a cleaner or a nanny! I shouted one evening at both parents. Take care of your own boy!
My dear, what are you saying? Mother gasped. Hes only four years oldhow can you
Youve raised me to think youre on a pedestal, Andrew growled. No gratitude.
You mean nothing to me! I blurted. Mum, tell him!
My son, thats not proper
And wheres my real father? Why wont you speak of him?
The argument erupted, ending in Mothers tears and, for a while, I was no longer asked to mind Yuri. I learned nothing more about my missing father; he remained a phantom.
Years later, when I was a teenager in a technical college training as an electrician, my father finally appeared. He was a gaunt man with a plain face and tired eyes, dressed sharply and scented with cologne. The world bustled around us, so why should he be frightening?
My name is Valery Edmundson, and Im your father, he announced, standing a respectful distance from my friends.
No way, I scoffed. Where did you come from, old man?
I understand your reaction, Valery said calmly. But things are not so simple. He told me of his youthful misstepsrobbery, a stint in prison, an early release, a modest business in car repair. I wanted to approach you earlier, but I thought a former convict would bring shame. Ive turned my life around; now you wont be ashamed of me.
Inside, I felt a rush of joy, though I tried to hide it. We sat in a nearby café, and he laid out his story. He spoke of his crimes, his release, and his newfound honesty. I never meant to abandon you, he said. Im sorry for the hurt.
I answered, Dad, Ive never been ashamed of you. Im glad youre here. He replied, Never say never, lad. And dont blame Mother.
We talked for hours and soon began meeting regularly, spending time together. For the first time, I felt I was soaringmy own father, caring and present. Mother even noticed my brighter demeanor, asking what was different. Though I promised my father I wouldnt tell her everything, curiosity got the better of me.
I have a father now! Everythings fine! I declared.
What? Ive tried to keep you away from him! Mother protested. Hes a criminal, you know! He almost killed someone!
Hes a decent man, and unlike you, he loves me. Im done with you and your petty squabbles with Yuri.
Dont speak like that! Mother retorted. I love you too and want the best for you.
Im fine as I am! If you keep forbidding me from seeing him, Ill leave altogether!
The shouting match continued, and Mother eventually collapsed into a hysteria that, while distressing, no longer shattered me as it once might. Andrew intervened at the end, chastising me for cruelty, yet he didnt reprimand me harshlyperhaps hoping I would truly leave.
Valery explained that to regain parental rights, he would need to rebuild his life. He was still a convicted felon, and I was only a year and a half from adulthood. We left the situation unresolved, and Mother and I drifted apart, though she never drove me from the house. When I finally earned my electricians diploma, I moved into a flat of my own, owned by Valery.
That peace was shortlived. Barely nineteen, Valery fell ill and died, having kept his ailment secret to spare me sorrow. In his will he left me his flat, a couple of hundred thousand pounds in the bank, and his share of the garagerepair business. I mourned, but soon settled into a comfortable life, my finances steady.
Years later, Mother called out of the blue. Our contact had become sparse, reduced to polite inquiries about health and work. She requested a meeting.
I know youre now welloff, she said, a hint of flattery in her tone.
Im not a millionaire, but Im not destitute, I replied, wary of her intent.
Our situation isnt great Andrew lost his job and cant find a new one. Yuri will soon go to university; well need tutors and tuition money.
Im sorry to hear that.
Son, could you help us? You have the money, dont you?
Thats my fathers money you despised, I snapped. He broke your life.
Isnt there any compensation you owe me? After all, I raised you despite everything.
You think Ive forgotten how you abandoned Yuri the moment he was born? You think I care?
Dont speak like that, love I still love you.
Enough. If you called me here just for money, goodbyes.
I rose abruptly, ignoring Mothers tears, and left. I owed her nothing. Let them sort out their own troubles; my decision remained unchanged.
