I was fifteen when my parents finally went their separate ways. My mother, Helen, decided she needed a fresh start with a younger man, something she claimed would make her happier.
From an early age Id always felt I didnt fit the picture my mother seemed to have in mind. When she was pregnant she talked about the beautiful little girl she would bring into the world fair skin, bright blue eyes, golden hair. The child that arrived, however, was me a lanky boy with my grandmothers sharp cheekbones and a head of dark, unruly hair.
Dont smile so broadly, she would snap, you look like youre trying to show off your teeth.
Why wont you keep your hair out of your face? shed hiss, plaiting it harshly. You cant even brush it properly.
And whats with that nose? shed sneer, pinching at it as though Id bought a misshapen fruit at the market. It sticks out like a potato. Its hideous.
It was clear the insecurities I carried about my looks were not imagined; they were the result of a mother who never liked me. So when she announced she was moving in with her new boyfriend and wanted to take me along, I stayed with my dad, Michael, out of sheer stubbornness and a sense of propriety. The decision shocked him as well, but I was determined to support him.
Soon enough Michael began to sort his own life out. Occasionally hed ask me to spend the night at a friends house, and I, being old enough to understand, never minded. I also sensed he craved his own freedom, so I started looking for a place of my own, hoping not to be a burden.
One birthday Ill never forget was Michaels. I saved up a decent sum from my parttime jobs and bought a bunch of helium balloons and a chocolate cake. I imagined his face lighting up when I presented the surprise. When I knocked, the front door was locked from the inside. He swung it open just enough to bark, Emily, find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Dont ruin my party and slam the door in my face! He turned away without even looking at the gift.
It was autumn, the air turning crisp. The balloons floated upward as I walked away, feeling a mix of shame and rebellion. Ill ask my mates if I can crash at theirs, I thought. If it had been a warm summer night I probably would have camped out on the street. I took the cake and headed to a friends flat, muttering, Better than going home emptyhanded. I let out a sigh as I left.
A few years later Michael remarried. His new wife had her own home and, eventually, his heart. There was simply no room for me any longer, not in his flat and not in his thoughts. It hurt, but I learned to stand on my own two feet. Perhaps I would have fared better had my mother not filled my head with constant criticism. I grew up believing I was ugly and useless.
Luck turned when I met a man named Daniel. He gave me the love Id never known and helped me rebuild my confidence. Over twenty years have passed since then. I now have a solid family a wife and two children and Ive never spoken to my parents since that tumultuous time.
A few weeks ago an elderly voice called out to me on the high street. It was Helen, though I hadnt recognized her at first. The contempt in her tone was unmistakable: Well, look at you, you havent changed a bit. Still the same simple lad who never knows how to dress properly. You still owe me for deserting your father. She went on, You betrayed us, staying with him. Did you ever get a good life with your new man?
She told me her marriage had fallen apart, that her pension barely covered her bills, and that she wanted to meet my family. She even offered help, hoping I could somehow make up for what she called my betrayal.
I promised Daniel Id speak with her and arrange a meeting with my motherinlaw. The year that followed turned into a personal project: Remembering forgotten relatives. About a month after that first encounter I nearly tripped over Michael as we passed each other on the pavement. Even his new wife and stepchildren gave me little trouble, though he accused me of never keeping in touch, of running away, and of not helping when he needed it. He also expressed a wish to meet his grandchildren and soninlaw.
So here I am, a man who survived a childhood of harsh words, built a life of his own, and now, in his own way, tries to bridge the gaps left by a family that never quite fit together.
