“You dont get to decide where my son lives,” snapped his ex-wife as she stepped over the threshold.
“Dad, whens Mum coming?” asked Jamie, setting aside his maths workbook.
John looked up from his newspaper and studied his son. The boy was only eight, but there was a quiet sadness in his eyes that no child should have to carry.
“I dont know, mate. She said shed visit this weekend, but its only Wednesday.”
“But is she *really* coming? Last time she promised, then called and said she had important things to do.”
John sighed. How do you explain to a child that his mother had moved to another city with another man, and that Jamie had become more of an obligation than a joy? Once a month, shed turn up, bring a toy, take him to a café, then vanish again.
“Shell come, Jamie. Definitely.”
“Okay,” the boy said, picking up his textbook again. “Can I watch cartoons later?”
“Finish your homework first, then well see.”
John went back to his paper, but the words blurred. Three years since the divorce, and his life still felt stuckwork, home, Jamie, repeat. His mates kept telling him to meet someone new, start fresh, but how could he when his son spent half his time waiting for a mother who barely showed up?
By the time Jamie closed his books, it was dark outside.
“Dad, what are we having for dinner tomorrow?”
“Spaghetti. You love that.”
“Yeah,” Jamie grinned. “And salad?”
“And salad. Cucumber and tomato.”
They moved to the kitchen, and John started pulling ingredients from the fridge. Jamie perched on a stool beside him, swinging his legs as he chattered about school.
“Tom Wilkins fell in PE today and scraped his knee. There was blood! The teacher took him to the nurse.”
“Nothing too bad, I hope?”
“Nah, just a plaster. Dad why do Toms parents always come to parents’ evening together, but you come alone?”
John froze, the half-chopped cucumber forgotten on the board.
“Well Mum and I have different jobs, different schedules.”
“Oh,” Jamie nodded, though he didnt seem convinced.
After dinner, Jamie washed up and brushed his teeth without fuss. John tidied the kitchen, made himself a cuppa. The flat was quiet, just the telly murmuring in the background.
The next day at work, his colleague Mark brought up the topic again.
“John, mate, give it a rest! What kind of mother drops her kid like that? She pops in once a monthso what? Jamie adores you. Youre a great dad.”
“Mark, you dont get it. Theres *no time*. School runs, homework, bedtime stories. Weekends are laundry, shopping, cleaning.”
“Then find a woman wholl help! A decent one. Jamie could do with a stepmum.”
“What if he doesnt like her? What if his mum comes back and kicks off?”
“Shes *not* coming back!” Mark waved a hand. “If she wanted to, she wouldve by now.”
John didnt reply. Deep down, he knew his mate was rightbut admitting it hurt.
That evening, while Jamie did his homework, the doorbell rang. John checked the peephole and froze. Emma, his ex-wife, stood on the doorstep. He opened the door.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Course. Jamie! Mums here!”
The boy bolted from his room and flung himself at her. Emma hugged him, awkwardly, like shed forgotten how.
“Youve grown so much! Proper little man now.”
“Mum, are you staying long? Did you bring me a present?”
“Of course. But first, I need to talk to Dad.”
Jamie nodded and scampered off. Emma walked into the living room, sat on the sofa. John stayed standing.
“Cuppa?”
“Please.”
He made tea, brought two mugs. Emma looked wellnew haircut, expensive clothes, manicured nails. Life in the city clearly suited her.
“Howve you been?” John asked.
“Good. Love the job, decent pay. You?”
“Alright. Jamies doing well at school, no real issues.”
Emma hesitated, then straightened.
“John I came to talk. Daniel and I are getting married.”
“Congrats.”
“And I want Jamie to come live with me.”
Johns stomach dropped. The mug trembled in his hand.
“*What*?”
“I want him with me. Im stable now, good job, Daniels fine with it. And you? Youre at work all day, hes left to himself.”
“Emma, are you *mad*? Jamies settled herehis school, his friends. And besides, youve barely”
“Barely *what*? I was young, scared of responsibility. Now Im ready to step up.”
“Have you *asked* Jamie what *he* wants?”
“Hes a child. He doesnt know whats best. I can give him more.”
John stood, pacing.
“Emma, listen. Three years, youve been a ghost. Monthly visits, if that. Now suddenly you want him back?”
“I have the *right*! Im his *mother*!”
“Mother?” Johns voice cracked. “A mothers there when theyre ill at night. Helps with homework, takes them to the doctor, *parents* them. Whatve *you* done?”
“I was *working*! Building a life!”
“Yeah. And who was building *Jamies* life? Who”
“*Quiet*!” Emma hissed. “Hell hear.”
John lowered his voice, but the anger burned.
“Why now? Whys he suddenly so important?”
Emma looked away, out the window.
“Daniel wants kids. I cant have more, the doctors said. So we thought Jamie could Hed adjust.”
“So *thats* it. New bloke wants a kid, and you remember youve got one. Convenient.”
“John, dont. I *have* missed him.”
“Missed him? Couldve fooled me. Forgotten his birthday last year, didnt you?”
“I was *busy*”
“*Enough*,” John cut in. “Everyones busy. Jamie grew up without you. Now you waltz in and demand him back?”
Footsteps padded from Jamies room. He peered into the lounge.
“Mum, are we going out? Like, to the cinema?”
Emma forced a smile.
“Of course, love. Just need to finish talking with Dad.”
Jamie vanished again. Emma waited, then stood, grabbing her handbag.
“Ill think about it till tomorrow. If you agree, well keep it civil. If not courtll decide.”
“You dont get to decide where my son lives,” John said, steel in his voice.
“Hes *my* son too!” Emma flared. “Ive got every right!”
“Rights are *earned*.”
She marched to the door, then turned.
“Jamie! Come say bye!”
The boy ran out, hugged her.
“Mum, will I see you tomorrow?”
“Course, love. Promise.”
When the door closed, Jamie looked up at John.
“Dad were you fighting?”
“No, mate. Just grown-up stuff.”
“Mum seemed upset.”
John sat beside him on the sofa, pulled him close.
“Jamie tell me honestly. Do you want to live with Mum?”
The boy frowned.
“Where does she live?”
“Another city. Far away.”
“What about school? And Tom? And Gran?”
“Different school, new friends.”
Jamie thought, then shook his head.
“Dont wanna. I wanna stay with you. Visit Mum sometimes.”
“Alright, son. Alright.”
That night, John lay awake. Tomorrow, Emma would return for his answer. What would he say? That hed fight for Jamie? That no one was taking him? What if she *did* take it to court? Could he afford a solicitor?
In the morning, as he packed Jamies schoolbag, the boy asked:
“Dad if Mum takes me away, will you be sad?”
John crouched, meeting his eyes.
“Jamie, no ones taking you. Were family, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jamie smiled. “But Mum?”
“Shes family too. Just not here.”
“Like Auntie Claire? Shes family but lives in her own house.”
“Something like that.”
At school, John lingered, speaking to Jamies teacher.
“Hes a bright boy,” Mrs. Carter said. “No trouble, well-liked. Though he does get quiet sometimes. Probably misses his mum.”
“Yeah. Divorce.”
“I see. Ever thought of remarrying? Stabilityd do him good.”
John nodded vaguely.
That evening, Emma arrived at seven sharp. Jamie rushed to her, but she gently held him back.
“Love, go to your room. Dad and I need to talk.”
“But Mum”
“Go on, Jamie,” John said.
When they were alone, Emma got straight to it.
“Well? Decided?”
“Yeah. Jamie stays with me.”
“John, *think*. I can give him morebetter schools, more opportunities.”
“And more love?”
“*Yes*!”
“Then wheres it been the last three years?”
Emma exhaled sharply.
“Fine. Court it is. But rememberI wont back down. Daniels supportive, weve got the money for solicitors.”
“Still wont *ask Jamie*?”
“Whats *he* got to do with it? *Adults* decide whats best.”
“Right. *Jamie!* Come here!”
The boy trotted in, sitting between them.
“Jamie, Mum wants you to live with her. What dyou think?”
He looked at Emma, then John.
“Is it far?”
“Quite far,” Emma said. “But its nicebig house, your own room.”
“Ive got my own room here.”
“*Ours* is better.”
“Will Dad live there too?”
“No, Dad stays here.”
Jamie thought, then shook his head.
“Dont wanna. I wanna stay with Dad. He takes me to school, helps with homework, reads stories.”
“*I* will too!”
“Can you make pancakes? Play chess? Fix my bike?”
Emma faltered.
“Ill learn.”
“Dont wanna,” Jamie said firmly. “Im staying with Dad. Ill visit you.”
Emmas face twisted.
“Youve *turned* him against me!” she spat at John. “*Poisoned* him!”
“Mum, Dad *never* said bad stuff about you,” Jamie cut in. “He says youre just *busy*.”
Emma sank onto the sofa, face in her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were red.
“I thought hed *want* to be with me.”
“Do *you* want him?” John asked softly. “Or does Daniel just want a ready-made kid?”
A long silence.
“I dont know,” she admitted. “Part of me does. Parts terrified. What if I fail? What if he hates me?”
“Mum, I *already* love you,” Jamie said. “I just wanna live *here*.”
Emma hugged him tight. John saw tears.
“Alright,” she whispered. “Stay with Dad. But can I visit more?”
“Course,” John said. “Anytime.”
“And call?”
“And call.”
She kissed Jamies head, stood.
“Id better go. Need to explain to Daniel.”
“Mum youre not *angry*, are you?” Jamie asked.
“No, love. Not angry.”
After she left, Jamie stood at the window, watching her taxi drive off.
“Dad will she *really* visit more?”
“I think so. She loves you.”
“Then whyd she want to take me from you?”
“Grown-ups get confused, mate. Think they know best when they dont.”
“Oh. Dad can we get pizza tonight? Instead of spaghetti?”
“Deal.”
A week later, Emma called. Spoke to Jamie for ages, asking about school, friends, weekend plans. Promised to visit in a fortnight.
And a month after that, John met a woman in the parkAnna, divorced, raising her daughter Lily alone. They talked while the kids played.
“Long time on your own?” she asked.
“Three years. You?”
“Two. Its hard sometimes, isnt it?”
“Worth it, though.”
Jamie and Lily hit it off, swinging and giggling together.
“Dad,” Jamie whispered as they walked home, “Annas nice. And Lilys cool.”
“Yeah. They are.”
“Can we see them again?”
“Course.”
And John thoughtmaybe Mark was right. Life *did* go on. And he *did* deserve happiness.
Most importantly, Jamie was happy. And right now, grinning about his new friend, that was all that mattered.
