I was ten years old back then, and my older brother was twelve. He spent nearly every day playing football outside, running about with his mates and returning home only when it got dark. We didn’t really see eye to eye. I helped Mum in the kitchen, washing up or folding laundry. Dad worked long hours at the biscuit factory and often came home quite late. Mum would set the table, and we’d all sit down together for a proper tea. Afterwards, Dad would slip on his polished leather shoes, stand in front of the hallway mirror for ages, then leave without saying a word. Every time he walked out, Mum glared at the door, her lips pressed into a thin line. I always wondered where Dad went and why Mum looked so cross.
One night, out of curiosity, I asked Mum why she seemed so upset whenever Dad left the house in the evening. She sighed and whispered that Dad had a girlfriend. I couldn’t believe it. I’d always seen how much he loved Mum and couldn’t picture him doing anything like that.
The next evening, when Dad put on his shiny shoes again and headed out, I decided to follow him. He walked briskly down the lane towards the Grand Theatre in town and slipped inside. I hesitated outside, unsure whether to go in. Suddenly, a hand touched my shoulder. I turned and found myself face to face with a striking lady whom I recognized as a well-known actress. She smiled and led me inside.
The auditorium was packed. To my surprise, Dad was on stage. I had no idea he was an opera singer. He stood tall under the lights, his voice filling the room as he performed an aria. He didn’t notice me sitting quietly at the very back, tears of joy stinging my eyes. When he finished, the audience gave him a standing ovation and showered him with flowers. After the concert, Dad and I strolled through the park, chatting and laughing until we got home.
I went straight to Mum, leaned in close, and whispered, “Dad doesn’t have a girlfriendhe goes to the theatre.” Mum squeezed my hand and softly replied, “I know.” Now, whenever I see those polished shoes, I remember never to jump to conclusions and always to look for the truth behind closed doors.
