My mum and dad always had a rather ambiguous relationship. Mum adored him, heart and soul. Dad, on the other hand, was a complete oddballfalling in love at the drop of a hat, with anyone and everyone. Whenever the mood struck, hed chase after his latest fancy, then, bored stiff, hed wander back home. Mum, saint that she was, invariably forgave him and welcomed him back with open arms. Never mind that each caper knocked the wind out of her sails a little more.
Unlike Mum, I wasn’t quite so soft-hearted. In fact, their great love story grated on my nerves. By the time I was grown, Id perfected the worlds most exaggerated eye-roll. Every time Dad reappeared, tail between his legs, I met him with a sarcastic quip and promptly suggested he turn right back around. Mum, the eternal peacemaker, would hush me and say, Hes made a mistake. He deserves a chance. Id shout that shed already given him a thousand last chances, clearly all for naught. Mum would just sigh and say, Youll understand when youre older.
Whenever Dad turned up after another disastrous love affair, he’d shuffle about like a guilty Labrador. Then, slowly but surely, hed revert to his normal selfuntil his next romantic escapade whisked him away again. Frankly, I was thoroughly disgusted with him.
Last year, Mum passed away and left me utterly alone. At twenty-six, I had absolutely no intention of cohabiting with a man who couldnt sit still, especially as, not a fortnight after Mums funeral, he breezed in with a new girlfriend. This time, though, he actually brought her home.
Thanks to Mum, I inherited two-thirds of the flat; shed left her share to me in her will, while Dad still owned a third. Legally, I couldnt exactly kick his new lady friend out on her ear. So, off I toddled to see a solicitor. Following their advice, I first offered to buy Dad out of his share. He flatly refused. Next, I suggested he buy my two-thirds. Another resounding no. Finally, as advised, I told him that if he wouldnt cooperate, Id simply flog my share off to the highest bidder, whoever they might be.
Oh, you shouldve seen the performance: the sulking, the shoutingit was music to my ears! Let him howl to the heavens, for all I cared. Id sell my piece, move as far away as possible, and never clap eyes on him again. Rather poetic, really.
