Please Take Me Back, I Beg You

Take Me Back, Please
Mum, you really dont have to James struggled to finish.
Margaret shook her head quietly, her fingers tracing the arm of the battered armchair. The flat smelled of her perfume and dried lavender she kept in every room. Those scents would soon vanish.
Im not doing this for you, she said. Its for Oliver. A child needs a proper home, not a rented box that a landlord could throw you out of at a moments notice. Whatever happens between you and Emily, son, the flat should go to Oliver. Thats what I want.
Emily stood by the window, a hand on their sons shoulder. Oliver shuffled his feet, sensing the adults hushed, careful voices, but not quite understanding.
Thank you, James managed. Honestly, Mum. Thank you.
Margaret waved away his gratitude. Her gaze softened as she looked at Oliver.
Come here, sweetheart.
Oliver crossed the room and let his grandmother pull him close. Her hands trembled softly as she cradled his face.
You know what, Ollie? Youre the best thing that ever happened to me. Youve got my eyes, my stubbornness, my dreadful taste in music.
Grandma Oliver mumbled, embarrassed but pleased.
This flat is yours, Margaret said, her voice turning serious, Itll be in your dads name for now, just because youre not eighteen yet. Youre the reason Im giving it away while I still can. Were a family, Ollie. I want to look after you properly.
Two months later, Margaret breathed her last.
The three-bedroom flat consumed them. At weekends, James tore down old floral wallpaper, scrubbed years of stains, put up new lights. Emily organised and reorganised their belongings, finding room among the remnants of Margarets old furniture.
Oliver raced from room to room, delighted with the space. At last, he had his own room and walls he could plaster with posters without asking.
Dad, can I put my desk by the window?
Put it wherever you like, son, its your room.
James watched his boy arrange his figures along the sill. Thanks to his mum, they had a proper home. He ought to feel grateful, content.
Instead, the walls pressed in. Routine. Predictability. Days blurring into one another. Get up. Go to work. Come home. Dinner. TV. Sleep. Repeat, forever.
The coffee shop by his office became his refuge. He started dropping in after work, then staying longerhalf an hour, then an hour. The barista knew his order. The corner table by the window belonged to him, quietly.
Thats where James met her.
She laughed at something on her phoneloudly, unashamedly. Her laughter drowned out the background noise. James looked up from his laptop, she caught his gaze and, instead of turning away, she raised her eyebrow.
Sorry, she said, but there was no remorse in her tone. My friend just sent me the worst joke Ive ever heard. Want to hear it?
James ought to have declined. Ought to finish his spreadsheet and go home to his wife and son.
Go on, then, he said.
Her name was Lisa. She worked at an advertising agency, loathed her job, adored silly puns. Lisa was vibrant, boldreal.
Youre drowning, she said during their third meeting.
Im not drowning. My lifes fine.
But are you happy?
Three weeks later, they were in bed together.
James told Emily the truth that evening.
He watched Emilys face slowly transform as she processed his words.
You slept with someone else, Emily repeated slowly.
Yes.
James said nothing moreany words would only make it worse.
Emily flung a towel at him. It hit his chest and dropped to the floora pathetic gesture that only fueled her rage.
You betrayed our family for some younger woman? Fourteen years, James. Fourteen years of marriage and you got bored?
Its not about boredom.
Then what? Emily shouted. Explain, because clearly Im too stupid to understand why my husband decided to destroy everything we built!
James rubbed his face with his hands.
Im suffocating with you, Emily. Every days the same. Work, home, dinner, sleep. I needed to feel something different. Something alive, real.
Something alive. Emily laughed, the tears already spilling down her cheeks. I gave you a son. Gave you my youth. And you needed to feel alive?
A quiet click came from the hallway. Oliver had woken and now hid in his room. Jamess heart clenched at what his son might have overheard.
Fine. Emily wiped her face harshly, smearing her mascara. Fine, James. You want to leave? Then well divorce. I wont try to keep you. But lets talk about the flat. Your mother told Oliver she intended it for him, directly.
The flat stays with me.
Emily froze.
What did you say?
The paperwork is in my name, James couldnt meet her eyes. Legally, it belongs to me. You and Oliver will need to find another place.
Youre throwing your own son outeven after your mother left him this flat? Emily whispered in shock.
Im not throwing anyone out. Youll have time to find somewhere. Ill help with the first months rent, whatever you need, but
Youre a monster. Emily gripped the table. Youre no man, no fathernothing. Your mother would have been disgusted if she saw what youve become.
The next morning, Emily packed up while Oliver sat on the bed, staring at the walls hed just covered with posters. He wouldnt look at his dad, wouldnt say a word. He simply followed his mother out.
Three months later, the divorce was final. James paid child supportnot much, but enough to satisfy the court. Every Sunday he called Oliver, and every Sunday the calls went unanswered. Texts were ignored. Birthday gifts accepted with no thanks.
Eventually, James stopped trying. The boys angry, he told himself. Hell grow up, understand adults sometimes have to make tough choices.
Lisa moved in two weeks after Emily left. She filled the flat with candles, decorative cushions, music playing at all hours. She cooked complicated, expensive meals and insisted on shopping trips every weekend. With Lisa, James felt young, reckless, excitingly free.
Six months in, he had just forty-seven pounds in his savings account.
Hotels, restaurants, spur-of-the-moment shopping tripsLisa would float out of changing rooms, twirling in dresses that cost more than James spent on food each month. He didnt notice anything wrong until his bank account hit zero.
We need to talk about money, James told Lisa that evening.
Later, darling, lets chat tonight. Im meeting friends.
She pecked his cheek, grabbed her handbagthe latest hed bought herand left.
That night, Lisa didnt come back.
The following morning she announced their relationship had no future. That life with him was boring, and she felt stifled. Lisa packed her things and left as light-footed as shed arrived.
For two weeks, James wallowed in self-pity. He wandered the empty flat in the same clothes, left dirty dishes piling up, kept the blinds closed. Everyone had left him, he told himself. His son wouldnt speak. His wife took all the best and went. And Lisa, beautiful carefree Lisa, vanished once the money ran out.
By week three, pity curdled into something more desperate. James showered, shaved, put on his cleanest shirt and crossed London to the address Emily had given the court.
The place was old but decent. A block with fresh paint and a working lift. Emily let him in without question.
Oliver, she called over her shoulder. Your dads here.
James stepped into a narrow hallway, taking in the modest home his family now lived intwo rooms instead of three. Small corridor, compact kitchen.
But the place was alive with warmth.
Oliver paused in the doorway. The boy had grown over those months, his childhood softness fading. There was no warmth in his eyes as he looked at his father.
Oliver, I know youre angry at me, James began. But Ive realised I was wrong. I made mistakes. But things can change. We can be a family again. The flats waiting for you, Oliver!
Emily leaned against the wall, disinterested.
People change, James pressed on, appealing to them both. Ive had time to think. I understand now what I lost. Ive learned my lesson.
You havent lost anything, Oliver shot back. You made your choice. You picked her. Not us.
Its not so simple, son.
Dont call me that. Oliver stepped forward. You kicked us out of Grannys flat. Our home. Me and Mumso you could be with Lisa.
Oliver, please
So were meant to take you backbut what happens next? Oliver interrupted. You meet someone else and get bored again? Chuck us out like bin bags?
James scrambled to defend himself.
That will never happen. I promise. Ive changed.
Oliver shook his head slowly.
I dont need a father like you, he said softly.
He turned and left for his room.
James looked at Emily, seeking some shred of comfort.
Emily, talk to him. Tell him I understand nowIve learned.
She shook her head.
I wouldnt forgive you either, James. Even if you begged. Not for cheating. Not even for throwing us out. But because you only came back when she left you. When there was no one else.
James barely remembered how he reached the landing, or how he made it back home.
So he was left alone in the three-bedroom flat his mother dreamed would hold a family. Now there was nobody. He had pushed away everyone who loved him, and there was nothing to be donenot anymore.
Sometimes, losing everything shows us how much our choices matter. Once we break trust and cast aside love for fleeting thrills, its rarely as simple to put the pieces back together. True family isnt just a roofits the people who stand with us when were at our worst. If we forget that, we may find ourselves alone when the music stops.