For heavens sake, stop pretending youre some heroine and acting like you have it all under control, Olivia says, setting a bag of diapers and a box of baby porridge on the table. Ive seen your Instagram posts, they look perfect. If only you knew whats really going on.
Emma doesnt even look up from her phone, her face stonecold. In the next room, twoyearold Jack whines for attention, but Emma stays frozen.
Jack, Im coming! their mother shouts from the master bedroom and hurries to rock her grandson.
Olivia slips off her coat, hangs it on the back of a chair and turns back to her sister, too annoyed to back down.
Tell me straight. Do you honestly think youve got this, that youre a great mum? Or are you just parroting whatever you read in parenting blogs?
Emma sighs, pauses for a heartbeat, but never meets Olivias gaze.
Listen, I never asked you to buy anything.
Right, you didnt. As usual, you sit there hungry and covered in dirty nappies while Mum pours you soup and buys the diapers. Then you can go back to being the strong woman you think you are.
Both fall silent. Even Jacks cries die down behind the wall. Only the soft, soothing voice of their mother can be heard. Olivia closes her eyes for a moment.
Theyre exhausted after a year and a half of this.
Emma left Dean, her exhusband, when Jack was barely six months old. She walked out in a blaze of protest, shouting that he couldnt even wash a dish or change a nappy. Dean, working two jobs, came home late, tired enough to fall asleep on the sofa sometimes, but he still tried: washing bottles, lugging bags, even humming lullabies, however offkey.
Hes betrayed us, Emma had said. He chose his work over us.
Olivia shrugs: everyone decides for themselves.
Except when everyone settles on someone elses neck and proudly refuses to claim child support. Emma now lives like shes on a holiday resort. Her dad pays, her mum cooks, and she flaunts posts about inner strength and female independence.
Their mother steps into the kitchen, two dark circles under her eyes.
Jack finally fell asleep, thank goodness. Olivia, why are you picking on Emma again?
Me? Picking? Olivia jokes. You barely wipe his bottom, and she doesnt even flinch. Shes happy with everything.
Im not asking for anything, mind you. Nobody owes anybody anything! Emma snaps.
Sure, you owe nothing. You just live here and enjoy all the comforts.
Emma remembers how, two months ago, their dad postponed getting a crown fitted again.
No worries, Ill wait, he had said to Mum with a grin. We need to dress Jack up; hes already outgrowing the baby ones.
Dad never complains. The family later discovers he skips his essential medication because theres no money to buy it. Olivia silently wires him the cash, hoping it will go to his prescriptions.
Emma leaps up, darts past Olivia, fleeing the conversation like always.
Olivia dont be like this Emma
Whats it to you, Emma? Shes comfortable, but her pride will kill you all. You know, Mum money problems arent solved with empty words. Youve had a heart attack, Dads heart is weak, and she plays the part of a Hollywood melodrama heroine: alone, proud, misunderstood.
Mum looks at her daughter with pain. Everyone understands, yet no one can act.
Olivia heads for the door, stops at the threshold, and wants to say something warm, something that would keep Mum from crying after she leaves.
Bye, Mum. Check the firstaid kit and speak to Dad. Ill bring the tablets tomorrow if they run out.
Ol thank you, Mum replies, her voice strained.
Olivia walks out without looking back, knowing tears are waiting.
A week passes. Olivia comes less often, not out of spite but to avoid seeing the familys mess. She drops off cash, medicines, a few things for Jack, and hurries away. Emma receives everything with a detached smile, as if its the way it should be.
One morning Olivia scans her contacts and spots a name she barely remembers: Kyle. He used to work with Dean. Hope flares. She thinks this might be a chance, maybe even a sign.
Three days later she and Dean meet in a modest café. Olivia fidgets with a napkin. Dean arrives seven minutes late, apologises, and sits opposite her. Hes lost a few pounds; the weight loss only makes him look older.
You see, he begins after listening to Olivias long story. Im not abandoning my son. Ive tried to patch things up. But even when I send money, she sends it right back and throws a fit.
They wont make it much longer, Olivia sighs. Dad halves his tablets. Mum turned down a rehab centre. And Emma she clings to some foolish principles. No ones to blame for that.
Dean nods, his tone geared toward solving the problem.
Heres what well do. Ill transfer money to you, and youll sort it out. Send me receipts or photosthanks, or notwhatever. I just want Jack to have a normal life and for your parents not to suffer because of all this.
Olivia isnt sure its right. It feels like betrayal, but her sister isnt a saint either.
Two days later the first transfer arrives: £120. Olivia immediately sends the cash to Mum, who is surprised only by the amount, not the fact that her daughter is still helping.
Another transfer follows, smaller, for Dads medication, then a third for Jacks shoes.
Emma pretends not to notice, or at least pretends she doesnt.
One evening Olivia drops by for half an hour. Emma is in the bath, Jack watches cartoons, Mum is at the kitchen table rolling out dumplings, Dad helping her.
Olivia, we bought Jack a new coat with your money! Mum beams. Youre such a good girl, always helping. Were getting a bit embarrassed taking it all. Maybe well manage on our own soon?
Olivia feels a pang of guilt. Shes taken unearned praise before, and each time it weighs on her conscience. Now the whole chain of assistance threatens to snap.
Mum I need to tell you and Dad something. Its not me; its Dean. Hes the one sending the money, she admits quietly.
A strained silence follows. Dad stops kneading dough. Mum freezes, spoon in hand.
Dean? she repeats. Emma told us hed vanished.
Yeah. He said hed cut off her phone because shes ignored him everywhere, Olivia sighs. She hasnt told us everything. Anyway, truth always sits somewhere in the middle. The important thing is the help.
Mum and Dad take the news without much fuss and continue accepting the money without a second thought.
But a new problem surfaces.
Thanks to Dean, things are a bit easier now, Mum whispers to Dad while they discuss next months budget.
Mum doesnt realise Olivia is still awake, listening with keen ears.
Soon the whole house erupts.
So youve been taking money from my ex behind my back?! Emma storms into the kitchen. Youre all traitors! Youve all conspired!
A fullblown interrogation follows. Mum cracks under the pressure. Later, Emma starts calling Olivia in the dead of night.
You thought you were clever, handling everything on the sly? You humiliated me! My child doesnt need your handouts! Emma yells.
What are you on about, Emma? Olivia replies drowsily, yawning. Im just doing what you cant manage, either out of strength or conscience. Stop blaming the sick for the healthys troubles.
Get lost! Emma shrieks. I dont need anyones help! Ill survive on my own!
The argument ends. Emma packs her things, shoves Jack into the stroller, slams the door, and disappears into the night without saying where shes headed.
Half a year earlier a friend, Lila, had whispered, If you need anything, just call. It had sounded like a sweet promise then, now its the only thread Emma can cling to.
Lila doesnt refuse. She kisses Jack, leads them to a spare bedroom, even heats a simple dinner, then gently asks what happened.
Everythings fine, just it feels stifling here, Emma mutters. I need some space. Ill stay with you for a while, then figure things out.
The first night passes quietly. Lila enjoys the company; its not so lonely. But the next morning small complaints begin. Emma leaves dishes unwashed, then complains about the food being too salty or too greasy.
A day later she pulls out a sealed jar of instant coffee from a cupboard without asking. It turns out to be a stash for gifts. That evening she begs for cash.
Ive spent the last bit on nappies. Could you lend me a few pounds? Please until I get a job.
Lila forces a tight smile and says shell check. Later that evening, after Jack finally falls asleep, Lila tells Emma they need to talk.
Listen Ive got a visitor, Artie, from Coventry. Weve been planning this for ages. You understand?
You want me to leave? Emma asks, panic rising.
Not exactly It just happened this way. Maybe you have another friend you could stay with?
Right, Emma nods, heart tightening. Ill manage.
The next morning Emma packs in silence, fighting back tears. Lila busies herself in the kitchen, avoiding eye contact. Emma dresses Jack, slips on his shoes, and walks to the hallway, lingering a moment before disappearing without a goodbye.
Standing on the staircase, she feels empty, ashamed, terrified. Options swirl like knives in her mind. She cant go back to her parentsnot with their pills and retreats. With Lila everything is clear.
Then she remembers Dean. Hes desperate to repair things, even though shes ignored him. Of all the people who could help, hes the only one left, so she dials his number.
Hello?
Its me Emma. Jack and I could we stay with you for a few days?
A surprised pause.
Of course, Dean says, his voice cautious but warm.
The call ends, and a new, uneasy life begins. Its awkward, built on mistrust, but at least its something.
Olivia learns of the reunion first. Her parents keep trying to call Emma, but she doesnt answer. After three days they give up; on the fourth, Olivia finally rings.
Hello?
Yes, Emma answers in a faint, deflated tone. Were at Deans. Ill call you later.
Deans? Is Jack alright?
Hes fine. Were okay.
Olivia raises an eyebrow, surprised. She smirks faintly: better this than watching Emma cling to her parents necks. She can only hope the stubborn pride that pushed Emma toward Dean wont cause another rupture.
