**Because Hes Just Like You**
Marinas voice trembled with barely suppressed frustration. *Three years, Margaret. Three years youve nagged me for a grandson, scolded me for dragging my feet. And now, in front of everyone, its all about little Alfieyour daughters boy. But my Oliver is your grandson too! Or have you forgotten?*
Margaret smoothed her immaculate updo and gave her daughter-in-law a look of icy superiority. Behind her, in the lounge, the sounds of childrens laughter and birthday music carried onAlfies party in full swing.
*And when you ignore Oliver, when you dont give him gifts like you do Alfie,* Marina pressed on, *he notices. Hes ten, Margaret. Hes old enough to know you dont love him.*
Margaret scoffed, waving a hand as if shooing a bothersome fly.
*Youre imagining things, Marina. I treat both grandsons the same. Honestly, why pick today to make a scene?* She arched a perfectly plucked brow. *My grandsons birthday, guests everywhereI havent time for your melodrama.*
With that, she spun on her heels and marched back to the party, leaving Marina standing alone in the hallway. A lump of hurt and anger rose in Marinas throat. She leaned against the wall, steadying herself. To Margaret, her son was irrelevantjust a pane of glass to look through, past to someone who *actually* mattered.
Taking a deep breath, Marina returned to the partyonly for her heart to twist further. There was Margaret, cooing over Alfie, fussing over his every word, slipping him sweets, ruffling his hair. And in the corner, Oliver stood pressed against the wall, shoulders slumped, eyes full of quiet envy. The sight made Marina want to grab him and run.
That evening, once Oliver was asleep, Marina sat beside her husband on the sofa.
*James, we need to talk about your mother,* she began. *The way she treats Oliverits not right. Hes suffering.*
James rubbed his templeshis tell when avoiding an uncomfortable topic.
*Youre overthinking it, love,* he muttered. *I was the unfavoured child toomy sister always came first. Hell get used to it. Hes a ladhell toughen up. Besides, she *does* love himjust differently.*
Marina stared at him. How could he be so blind?
—
A week later, Margaret turned up unannounced. Oliver, doing homework at the kitchen table, brightened when he saw herthen remembered himself and shrank back, wary.
*Ollie, darling, I brought you something!* Margaret declared, pressing a handful of cheap sweets into his palm. (For Alfie, she always bought the posh chocolates.)
*Thanks, Gran,* Oliver mumbled.
Margaret turned to Marina, triumphant.
*See? No favourites. All this nonsense about me playing favourites.*
Oliver lingered awkwardly before mumbling something about homework and vanishing to his room. He knew the drill: Gran wasnt here for him.
When they were alone, Marina tried againmaybe if she bragged about Olivers achievements, Margaret would care.
*Oliver won a maths competition,* she said, pouring tea. *His teacher says hes brilliant.*
*Lovely,* Margaret nodded absentlythen perked up. *Alfie won his swimming gala last week! First in the borough! His coach says he could go pro.*
*Thats wonderful,* Marina said thinly. *But about Oliverhes started drawing too. His teacher*
*Drawing?* Margaret cut in. *Hardly useful. Sports, nowthats proper. Alfies so strong, so clever. Top of his class in Frenchteacher says hes exceptional.*
Marina clenched her jaw. Margaret prattled on, drowning out any mention of Oliver.
*and just last week, Alfie fixed his own bike! Eight years old! Hands of gold, just like his grandad*
Marina slammed her palm on the table. Cups rattled.
*Why, Margaret?* Her voice shook. *Why do you treat Oliver like this? You *begged* us for a grandson!*
Margarets face soured. For a moment, she hesitatedthen spoke.
*I wanted *my* grandson. A proper one. But Oliver* She wrinkled her nose. *Hes *you.* Spitting image. Same walk, same faceghastly.*
Marina froze.
*You dont love him because he looks like me?*
Margaret nodded, as if explaining the obvious.
*I never approved of Jamess choice. But I thoughtfine, at least shell give me a sturdy grandson. Healthy stock, if nothing else. But him?* She flicked a dismissive hand. *Your double. Even *moves* like you. Makes my skin crawl.*
Marina sat stunned.
*Maybe if you have another?* Margaret mused. *One that takes after *our* side?*
Marina shot up, knocking her chair over.
*Another? Are you *mad?* Get out,* she hissed. *Now.*
*Excuse me?!* Margaret spluttered. *This is *my sons* house!*
*Its *ours.* And I wont let you poison my child any longer. *Leave.*
She wrenched the door open. Margaret, scarlet with rage, snatched her handbag.
*Youll regret this!* she spat.
The door slammed. Marina leaned against the wall, shaking.
—
When James got home, Marina relayed the conversation. With every word, his face darkened.
*She actually said that? That she doesnt love Ollie because hes like you? And to have another?*
Marina nodded, tears spilling.
*James, how can she hurt a child for *looking like his mother*?*
He pulled her close.
*Right. No more visits unless absolutely necessary. Ollie comes first.*
—
Months passed. Life settled. Thena turning point. Marinas parents moved nearby, selling their countryside cottage for a flat close by.
*Missed you both,* her mum, Evelyn, said. *Thought you could use the help.*
Oliver *blossomed* under their love. Their only grandson, finally getting the attention hed missed. His confidence grew, his smiles returned.
On Olivers birthday, Marinaagainst her better judgmentinvited Margaret. (Jamess sisters family? Not a chance.)
Margaret arrived with a small box. Inside: a flimsy toy carthe kind sold in tube stations.
*Thanks, Gran,* Oliver said politelythen turned eagerly to Evelyn and George. *Can I open yours now?*
They handed him a large box. Inside: a top-tier drawing tablet.
*Oh wow! THANK YOU!* Oliver flung his arms around them. *This is the one I wanted!*
Margaret sniffed.
*Why spoil him?*
Evelyn smiled coolly.
*Oliver wants to be a graphic designer. Hes *talented.* This will help.*
Oliver beamed, dragging James off to set it up.
Alone with Margaret, Marina folded her arms.
*Problem?*
Margaret bristled.
*Alfie just won*
*If youre here to talk about Alfie,* Marina cut in, *you can leave. This is *Olivers* day.*
*But Alfies clearly better!* Margaret blurted. *Stronger, brighter*
Marina strode to the door and yanked it open.
*I warned you. *Go.*
*You cant!*
*I can. This is *my* home, *my* sons birthday. Goodbye.*
The door shut in Margarets face.
From Olivers room came laughter, chatter, joy.
Marina smiled and went to join them.
