Refusing to Acknowledge His Son

Did you really think I was lying? my mate Michael grunted. I told you I wasnt keen on kids!

Harriet burst into tears. Mike, how can you not love your own son? Hes our future, isnt he? You never even call him by his name what is he to you, that one?

Our oneyearold, Charlie, a chubby little thing with his face smeared in porridge, knocked a rattle from his hands.

He froze for a heartbeat, gulped a lungful of air and let out a wail that made Harriets ears ring. She scrambled to the high chair, scooped Charlie up and glared at Michael, who was calmly polishing off his toast.

Right, love, hes fallen again, Harriet cooed. Dad will lift him up. Mike, could you hand me his boot? Hes rolled right up to your foot.

Michael glanced down. A bright yellow giraffe toy lay a centimetre from his shoe, tucked in a houseslip. He nudged it aside with his toe and spread butter on his bread.

Mike! Harriet snapped. Why are you kicking it? Cant you bend down?

He rose without a word, padded over to the coffee maker, pressed the button and waited for the black stream to fill a mug before turning back.

Im running late, Harriet. Ive got a meeting in forty minutes and I havent even had a proper breakfast.

Its rushhour everywhere. Grab the rattle yourself! I dont want to get my shirt dirty, and Im not keen on getting splashed by the little lad.

What does the shirt have to do with it? Hes bawling, and you act like you dont care.

He cries twentyfour hours a day, Michael replied calmly. Its his idea of fun keeps my nerves on edge. Right, Im off.

He planted a quick kiss on Harriets cheek, dodged the sticky little hands, and muttered, Tata! as Charlies toothless grin stretched wide. Michael barely glanced at him.

Bye, he called and bolted out of the kitchen.

A few minutes later the front door slammed. Harriet plopped onto a stool and started sobbing out loud.

Why was he treating her like that? What had she done wrong? And what had the boy offended his father about?

Sensing his mothers mood, Charlie fell silent and began smearing the leftover porridge over the table.

Harriet fought through her tears, trying to calm herself. She didnt need the baby to get upset as well.

A memory of Michaels words after the wedding popped into her head:

Harriet, to be honest, I dont like children. Any children, really. They make me nervous the noise, the mess, the constant whining

Whats the point of us having kids then? Lets just stay childfree.

She had laughed it off then, waving it away:

Dont be ridiculous, Mike. All men say that until they actually have a tiny human in their arms. Instinct kicks in youll see.

But no instinct woke in him, and he truly despised his own son.

By lunchtime Harriets parents arrived. Her mother, Margaret, barreled in first, followed by her father, David, lugging a box of a new building set.

Wheres our little monarch? Wheres the future head of the family? David bellowed from the doorway. Come on, go see granddad!

Charlie squealed with delight, and for the next two hours the house was a picture of domestic bliss.

Harriet finally managed to sit on the sofa with a mug of tea, watching her dad stack towers while her mum spoonfed Charlie some fruit purée and sang silly rhymes.

Harriet, you look pale, her mother observed. Did Mike turn up late again yesterday?

No, he was on time, Harriet replied, looking away. Just tired.

Margaret pursed her lips. Shed seen everything the empty walls, the lack of any family photo with the boy except the one taken at the hospital, where Michael looked like a hostage. She knew her soninlaw never asked about teeth or vaccinations, never showed interest in his child. Harriet had complained about this more than once.

Does he ever go near him? David asked quietly.

Dad, dont start. Hes working, hes exhausted.

Work! I toiled at two jobs when you and your brother were kids. But Id never step near a cot! I kept watch at night just so mum could sleep. And this fellow.

David, lower your voice, Margaret snapped. Harriet, maybe you should have a chat with him? A boy needs a father, a male role model.

Ive told you a hundred times.

Harriet wrapped her arms around herself, ashamed of her husband in front of her parents, and embarrassed that shed chosen such a poor father for her son.

What does he say? Margaret pressed.

He says, Let him grow. When hes a proper man we can talk. Until then, its all on you.

Only on me?! Margaret snapped, dropping the dish towel. Did you even bother to help create him? He had no part in the process, didnt he? Youre a

That night, after the inlaws left, Harriets mood sank again. Michael would be home soon, dinner needed cooking, toys had to be cleared away so he wouldnt trip over them and start screaming.

Michael arrived at eight.

Hey, he tossed his keys into the bowl. Anything to eat? Im starving.

Meatloaf in the oven, salad on the table, Harriet called from the hallway, wiping her hands. Charlie said two new words today: baba and pay.

Brilliant, Michael replied indifferently, throwing his jacket over a chair. Hope pay isnt about my wages. That thing drains my pockets.

He laughed at his own joke, shuffled to the bedroom to change, while Harriet stood frozen.

It wasnt just rudeness it was utter indifference to the only heir. Whether the boy said a word or barked, Michaels reaction would have been the same.

Charlies teeth were throbbing. Hed been whimpering since dawn, and the whole family had lost sleep. Harriet held him, rubbed his gums with gel, turned on cartoons nothing helped.

Michael had the day off. He sat in the lounge with his laptop, trying to watch a series with noisecancelling headphones, but the babys cries pierced through.

Around two oclock Harriet tried to settle Charlie for a nap, the only chance she had to shower and rest in silence.

Charlie fought back, arching his back, flinging his pacifier, shrieking so loudly the chandelier seemed to vibrate.

The bedroom door burst open Michael stormed in.

Harriet, how many times must I hear this? he roared. Ive been listening to this concert for four hours! My head is splitting!

Charlie, terrified by the yelling, curled into a hysteria, and Harriet snapped:

You think I enjoy this? His teeth hurt! Its painful for him!

Do something! Shut him up, I dont know give him medicine!

Ive given it! He needs to sleep!

Michael hovered over her, looming.

Listen, stop tormenting him. If he wont nap, dont force it. Let him crawl and scream elsewhere. Put him in the kitchen and shut the door behind you!

What are you talking about? Harriet stammered. Hes only a year old! He cant survive without a daytime nap.

If he doesnt sleep now, the evening will be a nightmare. Neither your nervous system nor mine can take it.

I dont give a toss about his system! Skip the nap and hell crash earlier. Simple, isnt it?

Im fed up with this whining. I just want a quiet night at home, got it? Im sick of this rubbish!

Quiet? Harriet whispered, holding the sobbing baby. You want quiet? Do you know I havent eaten all day? I cant even use the loo without him?

If he doesnt fall asleep, Ill just collapse, Michael. I need that hour. I need it!

Oh, here we go, he rolled his eyes. Supermum. Everyone births, everyone raises; youre the most miserable of us all.

Put him on the floor, let him play. You go and cook or whatever you need to do entertain yourself.

Do you even understand what youre saying? Harriets voice trembled. Hes your son, his teeth are hurting. Youre suggesting I deprive him of sleep so you can watch your stupid show?

Im offering a solution! Michael shouted. If he wont sleep, dont force him! Its that simple!

Charlie whined again, burying his face in Harriets chest. She looked at Michael with disgust.

Get out, she said quietly.

What? Michael asked, confused.

Leave the room and shut the door.

He lingered a moment, snorted, and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

Twenty minutes later, a exhausted Charlie finally drifted off, breathing shallowly in his sleep.

Harriet slipped into the kitchen. Michael sat at the table, eating a sandwich and scrolling through his phone.

I called your mother yesterday, Harriet said, leaning against the doorway.

Michael tensed, putting his phone down.

Why?

I wanted to know whats going on between us. I asked what kind of man you were, how your parents treated you.

She told him his father had never let him off his hands, taken him fishing from age three, read him books. You grew up in love, Mike. Where did this come from?

Michael turned slowly.

Again, he spat each word, if you complain to my mother well have a proper fight.

I wasnt complaining. I was asking for advice.

Advice? He smirked. You know what she told me? That Im a cold biscuit, that Im tearing the family apart.

Youve made a monster of me, Harriet. Proud of yourself?

Are you not a monster? she asked softly. Look at yourself. You live with us like a neighbour in a council block.

You never call your son by his name. You call him him, the little one, that one. Do you hate him?

Michael stayed silent.

I dont hate him, he finally muttered. I just I dont know what to do with him.

He shouted, he smelled, he demanded, he demanded!

I come home to chaos, and all I want is quiet, a movie with you. Instead I get nappies, toys everywhere, and your perpetual sour face.

Its only temporary, Michael. Kids grow up

They grow too slowly, Harriet. I warned you, I told you straight: I dont like them. Did you think I was joking? That your great love would change me?

I thought you were an adult. I thought I dont like children and I dont like my own child were different things.

Theyre the same, he said, standing, tossing his halfeaten sandwich into the bin. Im going for a walk. Need some fresh air.

Go, Harriet said, turning to the sink. Go. Well manage with Charlie.

He left, and Harriet dialed her parents, needing to sort something urgently.

That evening Charlie woke in a good mood. The toothache had eased, and he toddled about the carpet, trying to catch the cat that hid under the sofa.

Michael came back two hours later. Harriet gave him no reaction. He flopped into his armchair, reaching for the remote.

Charlie spotted his father, beamed, and waddled over, gripping Michaels trouser leg and peering into his face.

Pa! he chirped, handing over a toy car.

Harriet froze, afraid to breathe. She watched Michaels face. He gave a quick glance at the boy, grimaced and said to Harriet, Put him away, will you? I want to watch TV in peace! Why is he stuck to me? Go bother Mum!

Harriet scooped Charlie up and carried him to the bedroom. An hour later she emerged with two massive suitcases. Before Michael could react, the doorbell rang Harriets parents had turned up to collect her and the grandson.

Harriets mother had been urging her to come back for a month, but she never budged. She filed for divorce a few days after they moved out; she wasnt planning to live with Michael any longer.

Michael suddenly saw the light, tried to arrange meetings with his wife and son, but Harriet decided everything would go through the courts.

Charlie would be raised by his grandfather a proper oldfashioned man in every sense.