**The Teenage Years**
Diana and Arthur divorced because they couldnt agree on how to raise their child. Each blamed the other in their own way.
“Arthur never took responsibility for anything, so I had to handle every problem since the day Oliver was born,” Diana would explain.
“My wife never knew how to relaxalways controlling, always fussing over pointless things. No wonder she was miserable,” her ex-husband would counter.
Oliver was fourteen, living with his mother and seeing his father once a weekweekends and Wednesdays after football practice. Though Diana and Arthur had split nearly eleven years ago, neither remarried. Arthur lived alone in his late mothers flat; she had passed seven years prior after a long illness.
When Oliver spent weekends with his fatherespecially this past yearDiana felt some relief. But it wasnt restful. She still worried. To her, Arthur was anything but responsible.
“Jokes and funthats his language. Amusement has always been his world. But building anything serious? Impossible. When it was just us, things were fine. Then Oliver came, and everything changed,” she told her mother and friends.
With baby Oliver, Arthur barely helped. He avoided chores, showed no care. Diana embraced motherhood quickly, but Arthur never quite grasped fatherhood. Resentments piled upsmall grievances growing until they split.
That was Dianas view. Arthur had his own.
“We never understood each other,” hed say to friends. “I used to dream of having a childshowing him the world, teaching him things. But Diana turned parenthood into a maze of rules and worries. Always terrified of germs, of danger. I started fearing even holding my son. And if I did help? Never good enough. So I stopped trying.”
One day, Diana said, “Arthur, we should divorce.” To his own surprise, he felt relief.
They parted quietly, agreeing hed still see Oliver.
“Whats the point arguing with a woman who wont listen? Shes always right,” Arthur thought.
Eleven years passed. Arthur never remarriedonce was enough. Professionally, though, he thrived. Ironically, his “frivolous” nature served him wellhe designed video games, earning a comfortable living.
One evening, Diana tidied the kitchen and headed to Olivers room.
“Left the bathroom light on again. Just like his father,” she muttered, ignoring the “Do Not Enter” sign on his door. Inside, Oliver was glued to his monitor, barely glancing up.
“Oliver, flipping a switch isnt hard. Youre not a child.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
“Half an hour more, then homework. Youve got a test tomorrow.”
Later, she returnedhe hadnt moved. She snapped at him to study. Oliver rolled his eyes, grabbed his history book.
As she prepped soup for the next day, Diana wondered, *How much longer will this phase last? A year ago, he changed overnightimpossible to manage. Teenagers everyone goes through it. But if this drags on, Ill lose my mind.*
Saturday arrived. Arthur fetched Oliver, who bolted from his room.
“Dad! Finally!” Arthur loved their weekends too.
“Did you pack your books?” Diana pressed.
“Mum, *please*,” Oliver sighed, shouldering his bag and following Arthur out, waving her off.
As the door shut, Diana called after them, “Arthur, help him with mathshes failing! And dont just feed him pizza!”
In the car, father and son grinned.
“So, whats the plan?” Arthur asked.
“Movies, then the park?” Oliver smirked. “And firstpizza!” They burst out laughing.
Now that Oliver was older, Arthur had found a way to connect. Friendship didnt happen by itselfit needed shared time, common ground, easy conversations without lectures.
“Hows school?”
“Fine, Dad. Ive got it.”
“Course you do. But if youre stuck, well figure it out.”
“Honestly, its just my history teachershes got it in for me. The only decent ones the PE coach”
After they left, Diana thought, *Of course hes happy. Arthur only reconnected once Oliver was older. The hard partlessons, chores, disciplinefalls on me. Arthur gets to be the fun one. No wonder Oliver adores him.*
Sunday evening, Arthur dropped Oliver home.
“Brilliant weekend. Go on, head in.”
“Cheers, Dad! Best ever!”
After the weekend, Diana attended parents evening, dreading the report. Olivers teacher slid the grades across the table: a few Bs, an A in PE, the rest Cs and Ds.
*Hes in for it now*, she fumed, barely hearing the teachers words.
“Oliver risks failing history and maths. Hes brightjust lazy. And he games in class”
Diana was mortified. Storming home, she vowed, *No laptop till he fixes this. But how? The years almost over.*
She marched into Olivers room, snatched his laptop mid-chat, and carried it out.
“No games till summer. Fix those grades. Have you no shame?”
“God, Mum, you always overreact,” Oliver shot backArthurs words, not his.
She ranted until the door slammedOliver had bolted. She grabbed the phone.
“Arthur! Hes run offprobably to you! Hes talked about living with you before!”
“Calm down. Well sort it.”
“Dad, I want to stay with you,” Oliver pleaded when Arthur answered the door.
“Id love that, son. But your mum wont agreenot yet.”
“Dont make me go back. *Please*. Ill fix my grades.”
“Stay here. Ill talk to her.”
To his surprise, Diana barely resisted. She was quiet, defeated. He persuaded her easily.
The next morning, Arthur shook Oliver awake.
“Up, lad! Breakfast, then school.” But when he checked back, Oliver was still asleep.
They ate quickly, packed sandwiches, and raced off.
“Bed by ten tonight,” Arthur said. Oliver nodded.
The week passed blissfullypizza, laughter. Then Oliver started skipping school.
“Teachers ill, Dad,” hed say. More than once.
Diana got a call.
“Olivers absent. His grades arent improving. Hes failing.”
Furious, she rang Arthur.
“Like father, like son! Im taking him home*now*!”
Storming into Arthurs flat, she stammered, “Youour sonI just came from school” Oliver fled mid-sentence.
“Hes not attending. Hes failing. Resits in July!”
Arthur, stunnedhed trusted Olivercalmed Diana down, though he was shaken too.
Then Dianas mother called.
“Olivers here. Says he cant live with you anymore. Let him stay awhile.”
Relieved, Diana sighed. “Hes at Mums.”
Arthur squeezed her shoulder. “We need a plan. Gran wont last longhell bolt again. I was the same. Clever lad, playing on her sympathy. Orders wont work. We must unite. Whens your holiday?”
They went away togethertents, backpacks, textbooks in tow. Diana drilled Oliver in history; Arthur, maths. The trip was a triumph.
Now, parked outside school, Diana and Arthur waited nervouslyOliver was retaking both subjects today.
“He did it!” Diana cried as Oliver burst out, waving his results.
“Passed! Freedom!”
“Well done!” they chorused. Arthur grinned. “Now for the best ice cream in town.”
At the café, Diana watched them joke and laugh. No anger, no resentment. Without Arthur, none of this wouldve worked. Her heart felt light.
Arthur caught her gaze. “See? We did it. Together, we can handle anything.”
Diana knew the past was gone. They werent together, but they understood each other now. That was enough.
