I cannot recall a single kind word about my mother. Thinking back to my childhood, I remember her as a harsh woman, brandishing my fathers belt in one hand and a bottle in the other. There was no hope for a mother’s warmth or care; whenever she quarrelled with my father, I was swiftly dispatched to my grandmothers house for a visit.
We all suffered because of my mother. When she and my father finally divorced, I felt a sense of relief. Mother moved out, and my grandmother came to live with us for a time. She supported my father by taking charge of my upbringing. She cooked our meals and took me to school every morning. With her encouragement, I grew to enjoy learning and delighted in doing my homework. Afterwards, she treated me to homemade cakes and allowed me to go out with my friends. My father, too, became more gentle and pleasant without my mother around, and sometimes hed slip me a bit of pocket money in pounds.
Yet, our peace was short-lived. About a year after the divorce, my mother wanted to return. She swore up and down that shed changed, that she was working, and at first she managed, but before long, she was drunk again and my father threw her out.
Grandmother moved back in, and things looked up once more. Around then, I started attending karate classes, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The coach promised plenty of trips and tournaments, and I was eager to try something new and go to camp with other children. Father cheered me on, and grandmother encouraged me even more. But life with us was still a turbulent sea. Sometimes, father was broke and we lived solely on grandmothers pensionthen I had to skip lessons since we couldnt afford to pay. At other times, things were better, and father would take me to the fair or the cinema. Occasionally, he brought my mother home, as if they might get back together after all.
This endless saga of break-ups only ended when father discovered that mother was already in a new relationship and was using him to get extra money.
Father nursed hopes of rekindling their old marriage for a while, but grandmother talked him out of it. One day, he met another woman. With his new wife, we finally had a proper life. My stepmother has always been kind; I know this even though I am grown now and no longer need a mothers affection or live with my parents. Still, its a comfort knowing father no longer has ties to my mother, that she no longer betrays him, and that I am free from her cruelty and manipulations.
Through all those years, she tried to reach out to me only once, but a single I dont want to over the phone was enough; she never called again. Its a bit of a pity, but also a relief. I am certain I would have suffered far more had she remained with us and continued to wreck our lives.
