My Parents Divorce
Shes not my daughter! Im telling you, she cant possibly be my child. Theres no resemblance whatsoever, James shouted, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
James behaved terribly during the divorce proceedingschildish and petty to the point of arguing over the toaster.
Everything was bought during the marriage, so half of it is mine. In fact, if were being fair, all the appliances should go with me since my wife and daughter are staying in the house, he insisted to the judge.
The judge, a woman with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses perched on her nose, peered at James sternly over her spectacles. She leafed through the stack of papers before her with the patient disapproval of someone whod seen it all.
As far as Im aware, your wife owns the house. She had it before your marriage, so it isnt subject to division.
Exactly, James pressed. So, since I cant have a share in the house, I should get the applianceswashing machine, microwave, telly. All of it. Even the shower cubicle; I paid for that.
You cant possibly be thinking of taking the shower out, Claire, my wife, objected. Youll rip out half the bathroom!
The judge shot Claire a sympathetic glance. Men like James werent strangers to her courtroom, but his level of pettiness was something else.
Fine, the shower can stay, James conceded. But then youll give me the washing machine, right? Thats only fair, dont you think? he flashed his most charming grin at the judge, convinced it would win her over.
James always grinned at women, believing it irresistible. He was easy on the eyes, I admit; hed left Claire not randomly, but for a younger colleague hed been seeing for some time. He even tried to turn on the charm for the judge. She, however, was immuneexperienced, well beyond being swayed by a smile.
Claire could sense the judge was on her side, or as much as she was allowed to show. Judges arent meant to have favourites; they must follow the law. Yet, even she couldnt hide her disapproval when James exploded over child support, suddenly declaring Isabelle, our daughter, was never his.
The judge took off her glasses and cleaned them slowly. So, let me get this straight. You raised this girl for twelve years as your daughter and now, when it comes to child support, claim shes not yours? How do you expect me to understand that?
James kept up the weak smile. Well, I always knew she wasnt mine, but I put up with it. You know what they saychildren arent really ever someone elses. Still, Im not paying support. I have a new family now. Perhaps Ill have a child of my own soon.
A child of your own? Claire gasped, anger and pain welling up in her.
The hypocrisy was stifling. After all those years together, shed never imagined James could sink so low.
Lets not raise our voices, the judge said gently to Claire, then addressed James firmly. Im afraid I cant oblige. You will pay child support until its proven by law that she isnt your daughtera DNA test is required.
Suddenly, James looked defeated. He had no intention of doing the test, knowing full well Isabelle was his. True, she didnt look much like him; she was the spitting image of his grandmother. Family often remarked on itside by side, photos of young Isabelle and James grandmother could almost have been the same person. James knew all this too well, but it didnt stop him from denying his own daughter.
The divorce went through painfully. The next day, James showed up at the flat with a van to collect the appliances hed managed to squabble out of the settlement. He hovered anxiously around the movers, terrified theyd scratch the washing machine or damage the dishwasher. Claire didnt bother to supervise, but she couldnt help laugh-cry later when she noticed even the kettle and the new set of pans had gone missing along with the dinner service. Funny and sad at once. At least Isabelle wasnt there to witness it. Claire had sent her to her grandmothers, never uttering a bad word about her father.
No sense adding stress to an already anxious child. Isabelle loved her dad, and so be it. Let her. Claire decided Isabelle would never know how her father had tried to deny her in court. She wouldnt stand in the way of their relationship. In these things, a parent should always put the childs interest first.
When Claire brought Isabelle home, the girl wandered around the flatshe noticed straight away the empty space under the sink, the missing washing machine, her fathers belongings gone. That night, Claire heard crying in Isabelles room. Without turning on the light, she sat on the edge of her daughters bed and placed a comforting hand on the duvet.
Darling, please dont worry. Sometimes adults just cant get along and end up separating. That doesnt mean youll stop seeing Dad.
Unexpectedly, Isabelle pulled away, shrugging off Claires hand. Its your fault, she muttered angrily through tears. Dad said so himself. You always nagged him. He said he was unhappy because of you.
Claire was shocked. Isabelle, normally so gentle, had never spoken this way beforeher words stung with borrowed anger. She was clearly repeating her fathers opinions.
Do I really nag? Claire swallowed. She couldnt help herself: Did you know your dad left for another woman?
I know, Mum, Isabelle shot back, sitting upright in the darkness. Dad told me. He found someone else because life with you was too hard. You nagged him constantly.
Claire bit her lip. The blue glow from the clock on Isabelles nightstand made her daughters tearful eyes look almost venomous. How could she explain? Yes, Claire had nagged James, but only since shed discovered his affairwhat else was she supposed to do, smile and say nothing? There were fightsbut even then, divorce wasnt her idea. Shed hoped hed change. How could a twelve-year-old possibly understand all that? Best to let time pass. Eventually, Isabelle would adjust to her new home life.
Again Claire reached out, and again Isabelle recoiled as though from a stranger.
Get some sleep, Claire managed, leaving quietly. Youve got school early tomorrow.
That was the extent of their conversation. In the morning, Isabelle was unusually quiet; Claire assumed she regretted the harsh words. They didnt revisit the subject. Isabelle left for school and was monosyllabic when she returned home.
She must feel guilty, Claire thought.
But by the weekend, it was clear Isabelle felt no guilt at all. On Saturday, Claire let herself sleep in for once. When she finally rose, she tiptoed through the flat, thinking Isabelle was still asleep. By noon, she grew worriedher daughter wasnt in her bedroom. Panic rising, she rang Isabelles mobile. No answer. Not until Claire had called five times did Isabelle finally pick upin the background she could hear music, laughter.
Whats with all the calls? Isabelle replied, brazenly. Im with Dad at the shopping centre. Theres some sort of fair, people in costumes.
With Dad? Why didnt you tell me?
You were still asleep. Anyway, Im busy now.
The phone went dead. Claire was boiling with anxiety and irritation. When Isabelle returned after lunch, she was both carefree and defiant.
Dont do that again, Claire told her.
Do what? Not see Dad? Isabelle snapped. He warned me youd try to stop me.
Im not stopping you! Claire retorted. You can see your dad as much as you want. But you need to tell me. I wake up easilyyou tiptoed past my room on purpose.
No, I didnt, Isabelle shot back. Mum, just leave it, please?
And with a derisive sniff, she brushed past Claire and disappeared into her room, slamming the door. Claire stopped herself from chasing after hershe knew her daughter needed time.
But time only made things worse. Isabelle became bolder by the week. At first, she spent every weekend with her dad; soon enough, their meetings were sporadic, but after each one, Isabelle returned home even more unruly.
Claire endured it for a year, but her patience snapped on Isabelles birthday. Shed bought a cake, set the table, invited her parents. Theyd planned a small family celebration before letting Isabelle go out with her friendsat least, that was the idea. Isabelle, however, scoffed, snubbed the candles, and left to be with her father.
Claire was certain James had orchestrated this to rub it inthat Isabelle had chosen to spend her birthday with him.
That night, Claire snapped.
Why are you doing this? I worked so hard to make it special. Couldnt you spend even a little time with us before seeing your father?
Maybe I dont want to, Isabelle replied insolently. Maybe I dont want to live with you at all. No one can stand you. Youre the reason Dad left, and now you yell at me.
You dont want to live with me? Claire asked, dumbfounded. So, do you want to live with Dad instead?
Yes! Of course, I do! He told me he begged the court for me to live with him, but you said no. You got to decide because youre the mother. Did you ever ask me what I wanted? I would have chosen him, not you.
Oh really? Your father told you that? Claire asked.
Yes! He still wants me to live with him. He says his new wife would welcome me, that Id be happy there.
So youve actually met her? All this time, you and your dad only meet in public places?
No, I havent met her yet. But I will! Dad says shell treat me wonderfully.
Dad says, Dad says Claire let herself lose control. For a year shed bitten her tongue, but now it all spilled out. You ever consider he might be lying? He never once suggested taking you to live with him.
Youre the liar, not him! Isabelle yelled. You drove him out, and youre making my life miserable.
How am I making your life miserable?
Claire felt so hurt, she couldnt shout. She wept, hoping Isabelle would feel sympathy, but her daughter only scowled.
You figure it out, Isabelle muttered. Im going to bed.
Claire began to wondersurely something was amiss. Shed tried so hard to help Isabelle adapt, to be patient, yet things only grew worse. The more Isabelle saw James, the more he turned her against Claire. After the way hed behaved in court, nothing surprised Claire anymore. Was his bitterness simply about losing access to the house?
Regardless, Claire couldnt tell Isabelle what her father was really like, even if shed stopped making excuses for him. The next day, once shed cooled off, she tried again to reason with Isabelle.
Sweetheart, your dad isnt being straight with you. Please dont let him turn you against me.
I dont need anyone to tell me the truth, Mum. Im thirteen, not blind. I dont want your cake or anything else. Just leave me alone, Isabelle muttered, pushing away the cake plate.
The year that followed was a nightmare. Isabelle became utterly unmanageable. Any request was met with hostility, even simple things like homework. Her new favourite word was leave me alone.
Leave me alone with your homework! shed snap, door slamming behind her.
One day, after yet another weekend with James, Isabelle demanded a lock for her bedroom door.
I need my privacy. You always barge in without knocking.
Now, I have to knock? Thats a new one. Dont hold your breath for a lock, Claire replied.
There you go, not letting me live how I want. You wouldnt even let me live with Dad. Just get out of my room.
On Isabelles fourteenth birthday came the worst of it. She must have hoped James would invite her to his house to celebratebut he didnt even call. All her anger, she unloaded on Claire.
You did something! You must have told him not to call me. He promised Id meet his wife on my birthday, but now hes got a baby coming and wants me to help look after it.
So, thats what this is about, Claire sighed. Suddenly everything made sensehis new wife was expecting, and James had moved on, leaving Isabelle behind. It was clear her father only saw her to spite Claire.
Again and again Claire pleaded with Isabelle to see a therapist with her.
What, now you think Im crazy? Is that what you really believe? Isabelle flared.
A psychologist isnt a psychiatrist, darling. We just keep arguing. We cant keep going like this.
Maybe I dont want to work things out with you. If youd let me live with Dad, Id come visit you myself. Im not going to see a psychologist.
At fourteen, Isabelle considered herself an adult. Claire decided to treat her like one. She found a respected therapist, a kindly middle-aged woman, and brought her home. If the mountain wont come to Muhammad
If you think youre mature, Isabelle, lets act like it. No more tantrumsexplain your side to the psychologist.
Fine, Isabelle agreed.
She crossed her legs like a grown-up and sat facing the therapist.
You want my reasons? Well, my mum is never happy. Shes a nag. When my parents divorced, Dad wanted me to live with him. I did too. But Mum wouldnt have it. I cant get along with her.
I see your point, Isabelle, the psychologist replied. But your mum says otherwise. If your dad really wanted you living with him, dont you think youd have met his new wife by now?
Oh, forget it! Isabelle exploded, leaping up and running out. The front door slammed behind her.
Its worse than I thought, the therapist said gently to Claire. Are you sure your daughters wrong? Is your ex-husband really not interested in taking her? Why does he tell her otherwise?
He only does it out of spite, to drive a wedge between us, Claire despaired. I told you what he said in court. And its obvious his new wife doesnt want to meet Isabelle.
Well, then. I have a risky idea, but it might be just what you need.
That evening, when Isabelle came home, she tripped over a rolling suitcase parked at the front dooran old holiday suitcase theyd once taken to Cornwall, back before James left. The memory stung, but before she could speak her mind, Claire appeared, coat on.
Dont take your shoes off, she said. Ive listened to the psychologist, and you were right after all. I dont have the right to keep you from the family you want. If youd rather live with your dad and his new wife, I understand. I packed some essentials for you; you can collect the rest later. Do you know his address?
No, I dont, Isabelle replied, clearly rattled.
Well, I do. Claires voice was almost cheerful. When the movers took out the washing machine, I overheard where they were taking it. Come on, Ill run you over to your dads myselfa taxis waiting.
Wait, Mum, let me call Dad first.
No need, Isabelle, lets keep it a surprise. Hell be thrilledyouve always said it was his dream for you to move in.
In the taxi, Isabelle said nothing, but Claire kept chatting, upbeat. At last, your wish comes true. I want you to be happy. Visit me anytime, love.
The taxi pulled up in front of a modest housea small, orderly home belonging to Jamess new wife. Claire knew this already. Isabelle hesitated, but Claire pushed open the garden gate and knocked.
It wasnt James who answered, but his new wifea young woman with a noticeable pregnancy, her expression thunderous at the sight of Isabelle with the suitcase.
Living here? What do you mean, living here? she exclaimed. James! Come here, will you?
James appeared, his face instantly nervous, eyes darting about.
Whats all this? Why are you here?
Claire gave him a meaningful look. Well, you always said you wanted Isabelle to live with you. And your wife seems so friendlywhy havent you introduced them?
Live here? Isabelle, what are you on about? I cant take you in.
Dad, what do you mean? You always said You promised! Isabelle was on the verge of tears. Your wifes about to have a babyyou said I could help look after it!
Not right now, Isabelle, James scuffed his foot. Theres no room, were redecorating, and my wifes about to have the baby.
Lets ask her then, Claire crooned, twisting the knife. See what the new wife thinks.
James snapped. Thats enough. You lot need to go. Isabelle, go home. Well talk later.
Say it in front of me, not just to Isabelle privately, Claire challenged. Tell her youve been lyingthat you never wanted her to move in, that you tried to prove she wasnt yours in court.
James said nothing, but Isabelle sobbed. Dad, is it true? All of it?
Go home, Isabelle, he muttered, eyes averted.
He retreated inside, closing the door behind himjust as Isabelle had so often slammed it on her mother.
Come on, outside the gate, Claire coaxed, pulling out her phone.
Where to, sweetheart? she asked softly, watching her daughter cry.
What do you mean? Home, Mum. Home, Isabelle sobbed, finally letting the mask drop.
But you said you didnt want to live with me. Maybe you want to try again with Dad?
No, Mum, pleaselets just go home. Im so sorry.
Sorry? What was that? Claire teased gently, shaking her head with exaggerated confusion.
Im sorry, Mum, so sorry, Isabelle pleaded, hugging her tightly. I promise Ill never act like that again.
As much as Claire wanted to savour her victory, motherhood won out and the tears of her daughter melted her resolve. She threw her arms wide and Isabelle flew into her embrace.
There, there, love. Lets go home. Tonight well cook something good togetheryoull help, wont you?
Isabelle nodded desperately, clutching her mums shoulder.
That was the day I learned what patience, forgiveness, and honest conversation truly mean between a father and his child.
