She Just Needs Time
“Right, then. Either you help me strip Vicky of her parental rights, or I walk, and you can sort this mess yourselves.”
“Nastya, for heavens sake! Shes your sister! My daughter!” Mum threw her hands up, then clutched her chest.
“And what am I? Not your daughter?” Nastyas voice cracked with hurt. “Sometimes I think Im not even a person to you… Cant you see whats happening? Ive grown attached to little Sam, I love him, and you… Either you help me, or Ill do it alone. But I wont let this go.”
Mum looked away, torn between them all. Dad just scowled into his mashed potatoes. Nastya, realising the verdict, stood and walked to her room.
Clearly, her parents hadnt chosen her. Or even Sam.
Nastya started packingnot that she had much. Her heart ached, but she knew she had to do this.
But how do you stay strong when a tiny child clings to your legs, sobbing?
“Mummy, dont go…” Sam begged, watching her stuff clothes into a bag.
*Mummy.* That word stabbed her heart again. Nastya sighed, knelt down, and forced a smile.
“Im not leaving *you*, Sammy,” she whispered, hugging him. “Im leaving so that one day, everything will be better. Ill come back. For good. Forever.”
Sam wailed, unable to understand why his favourite auntthe one he called Mummywas abandoning him. He clung to her jumper like a limpet, and she couldnt bring herself to leave until hed cried himself to sleep. Only then, late that night, did she tiptoe out.
In that moment, Nastya *hated* Vicky. Shed doomed them all to this nightmare.
…Vicky had been wild since sixteen. First, shed come home late, then started “sleeping at a friends”though everyone knew what *friends* meant. Shed stumble in, smudged eyeliner, slurring, sometimes in tears. And Mum and Dad would fuss over her like she was made of glass, soothing and sympathising.
A pregnancy was inevitable. At seventeen, Vicky got knocked upcouldnt even name the father. Just some “bloke from a party.”
Sam arrived. Vicky quickly realised motherhood wasnt her calling. First, shed vanish overnight, then disappeared altogether.
“Im still young. Im not throwing my life away,” she told Nastya over the phone when confronted.
So the “life” got dragged onto Nastya. Grandad barely glanced at his grandsonmaybe bought a rattle, nothing more. Granny helped, but she worked.
Nastya was eighteen. She switched to part-time uni to care for a baby. She became his second motherliterally, since shed even christened him.
It was brutal. Nights of feeding, lugging a pram up stairs, exams on no sleep. She studied after Sam dozed off, juggled choresher parents were always “too busy.”
By six months, shed adjusted. Then Vicky slunk back, sobbing, grovelling.
“I was such an idiot… Ill change, I swear…”
They believed her. Even Nastya *wanted* to. But Vicky lasted a monthjust long enough for the neighbours to coo over her “transformation.” Then she bolted again, this time nicking Mums jewellery.
“Shes struggling. Shell come round,” Mum insisted. “She just needs time.”
Nastya stopped believing. Once was a mistake. Twice was a habit. But what choice did she have? Her parents lived in a fantasy where Vicky deserved endless chances.
So Nastya carried on. Studies, raising Sam, nursery runs, doctor visits. She prayed Vicky wouldnt return.
No such luck. Four years later, Vicky reappeared.
“I thought he loved me. Said wed live together, take Sam…” She sniffled, batting her lashes at their parents. “He used me. I was stranded, no job, no friendshad to *survive*.”
“Survive? Youve clearly not been skipping meals,” Nastya muttered.
Mum shot her a glare. The spotlight swung back to “poor Vicky.”
Worse came when Nastya brought Sam home from nursery. Granny nudged him toward Vicky. He burst into tears, hiding behind Nastya.
“Dont be silly,” Granny crooned. “This is your *real* mummy.”
“This isnt Mummy! *She* is!” Sam clung tighter.
Nastyas heart shatteredfor Sam, for Mums words, for the déjà vu.
Sure enough, history repeated.
Vicky leeched off them for two months, jobless.
“Ive got Sam. Whod hire me? Its like maternity leave,” she shrugged when Nastya asked her plans.
Then*poof*Vicky vanished again. The truth surfaced in photos of her new “boyfriend,” who looked old enough to be her dad.
“Another pub regular,” Nastya thought. Hope died. What now?
She confided in her mate, Nina.
“Convenient, isnt it? One mums loving, the others real. Just petition to revoke her rights,” Nina said. “Theyll check, see shes absent, and youll sort the rest.”
Nastya balked. “What if they take Sam? And my parentsll go *mental*.”
“Then wait till Vicky wrecks Sams head again. Your call. But siswheres *your* life in this?”
Nastya *had* forgotten. Dates fizzled when lads heard she had a “kid.” Only Alex, a classmate, still asked her out.
After Ninas nudge, she said yes. With Alex, she felt… *light*. He listened. Helped.
So after her ultimatum to her parents, she went to him.
“Ive said it beforelets move in. Maybe nows the time?” he offered.
“I cant. Sam”
“So what? Well make it three.”
Nastya gaped. “You dont have to”
“Nastya,” he cut in, “I knew what you came with. If hes family to you, he is to me.”
Something thawed in her chest. Hope flickered.
The next six months were hell. Paperwork, parenting courses, inspections. Worse, she couldnt take Sam yethe cried, waiting.
“You *stole* her child!” Mum spat.
“Like she ever wanted him,” Nastya shot back.
Her parents shut her out. Only Alex and friends stayed.
But after the storm comes calm.
…Years later, Nastya watched Sam teach his little sister, Lily, to kick a football. Alex squeezed her shoulder. She leaned into him, thinking: *It was worth it.*
She hadnt heard from Vicky latelydidnt *want* to. Same old: men, parties, pity parties. Losing Sam just meant new sob stories for their parents.
Speaking of, Mum and Dad never forgave *her*. Fine. “If they want to coddle Vicky forever, let them,” Nastya thought. “Ill look after the ones who *need* it.”
