The Loving Kind

As many children who come from broken families will tell you, the worst day of their lives was when they realized that family as they knew it, it was over.

I am no different.

My parents got divorced when I was six. I had not seen it coming, not because I was very young but because everything seemed to be going perfectly for us. My parents never fought, my dad never failed to remember her birthday, or their wedding anniversaries and he was never late at nights. He always came home to me and her. As for my “mom”, she was always sweet and caring. She would pick me up from pre-school every single day with a smile on her face and she would bake a different delicious cake every Sunday for our picnics. Because we had picnics too, like every other perfect family.

So, if you were in my place would you have seen it coming?

Anyway, one glorious Sunday, while we were at one of those picnics, they informed me with smiles on their faces, which I know now they were absolutely fake (at least as far as my father was concerned), that they decided they did not longer wish to be married to each other. They assured me that nothing would change for me as they would always love me and protect me no matter what.

I remember I cried that night, because despite of what they said I knew that things would change. Unfortunately, I was right about that one. One week later, to my utter surprise it was my father that picked me up from school. When we arrived home, two packed suitcases greeted us outside our doorstep and a fancy car that did not ring any bells. The moment I saw my mother appearing on the door, I tried to get to her, but my father stopped me.

“Let her go son” he said in a strained voice.

I was ready to tell him I did not understand what he meant, when I saw an unknown man walking up to my mother, kissing her as my father used to do and lifting up her suitcases afterwards. She locked up the house with a smile on her face and started following him to his car. The second time my dad was not able to stop me before I bolted out of the car.

“Mommy!” I shouted right behind her.

She halted but did not turn around. The unknown man was gazing at my mom impatiently.

“Just give me a moment, please” she addressed him.

“As you wish. But don’t take long. We have a plane to catch” the guy replied slightly irritated as he entered the car.

And finally, she turned to face me.

“Mommy where are you going?”

“I am leaving, honey”

Her voice was soft as always.

“With him? Who is he? Why are you going with him?”

“He is Oliver and I do not expect you to understand but I love him, that’s why I have to go with him”

“Where?”

“Italy”

“What about me?”

“You are going to be fine, honey. You will stay with your dad, and we will talk as often as possible”

“Why can’t I come with you mommy? Don’t you love me anymore?” I choked.

She hesitated. My heart clenched and I felt my eyes burning.

“I do” she whispered finally. “But you look too much like your father, honey”

And that was the last thing she told me before that man called her again and she left me behind without a second glance or a goodbye kiss.

As one can guess from the story so far, my mother did not keep her promise. She called once or twice but I refused to talk to her. I know that she was talking with my dad from time to time to finalize their divorce but after that was done, she did not communicate and neither of us mentioned her again.

My father did his best to be present. He never missed a parents’ meeting and never failed to pick me up from school. He even tried to learn how to cook but since that did not go very well, he hired a housekeeper. Mrs Horton was a sweet cheerful woman who made you like her on the spot. She was a widow, and her children were already in high school so, she did not mind taking care of us every day. Sometimes her kids would stop by and would spend an hour or two playing with me before they were off to meet their friends.

There was no perfect family to speak of, but at least I had my dad.

For the next two years our routine was settled so nicely that I was almost happy again. I had not forgotten about my mom, but somehow, she did not matter that much anymore. Between school, friends and hobbies she had faded away. For the record, my dad never removed the photos which included her yet, I never bothered to linger on them. In fact, I barely paid them attention at all.

As I think about that period of my life, I realize that I was angry at her. Quite normal, of course, because the woman chose to forget about her child first and run off with an asshole who didn’t want a lookalike of his woman’s ex to stare at every day. Not that I had figured that one out when I was six or eight, though. I just became insecure because of it.

I’ll explain later.

One day, for big things love to happen out of the blue, my father did not return me home after school. He took me out for ice cream instead. I did not find it suspicious. Perhaps I should since it was not in our daily routine, but I didn’t.

After I had my delicious treat, he told me he wanted to talk to me about something. To make a long story short, he had met a woman. Actually, he knew her from school but now they had met again and decided they wanted to try and be together. Well, they were already seeing each other four months, so they were together already.

“Are you leaving me too?” I asked panicking, feeling I wanted to vomit the ice cream I had just eaten.

“What?” my father shouted astonished. “No, buddy, of course not! I just want you to meet her. She wants it too”

Admittedly it took him a while to calm me down and explain that Hannah, the woman he liked, had a daughter from her previous marriage and wanted all of us to meet and see if we can get along.

“I don’t need a mom” I deadpanned.

“I know that and Hannah knows that as well. But I really like her, so it would mean a lot to me if you gave her a chance”

I agreed. Half-heartedly, yet I did. I made him promise though that he would not leave like mom did. He did promise and bought me one more ice cream making an exception.

My first impression of Hannah is still vivid in my memory.

She did not look like a mom. I know now that there is not necessarily a pattern on how a mother should look, but by watching other kids mothers and remembering my own, had created certain expectations and Hannah had shattered them all.

Her hair was a vibrant red and she wore torn jeans and a t-shirt with a ridiculous stamp on it. She looked more like a teenager than a mom. She had a bright smile on her face and a frowning girl by her side. I realized that it was her daughter. The girl was older than me and regardless of that frowning, she looked quite cute in her mint-coloured sundress. She was a brunette and did not look much like her mother or so I thought back then.

After my father introduced me to Hannah and Amelia (that was the daughter’s name) the mother asked if she could talk to me in private. I couldn’t say no, so I followed her outside of the diner we had met.

“I suck at cooking” she said when we were alone.

I looked at her bewildered, not so much for the statement as for the foul language.

“I really do. So, cakes and home cooked meals are not really my thing” she spoke without seeming to notice my expression.

“Why should I care?” I found my voice at last.

She smiled at me. A bright one.

“Your dad said you don’t want a mother, so I wanted to make clear I don’t intend to play mommy for you. I hardly do it for my daughter to be honest. But I think I am in love with your dad, and I imagine a future for us and since you are important to him, I want you to like me”

“If I don’t, you will break up?” I questioned, cocking my head to the side.

She mimicked my motion and smiled at me broadly.

“Actually, I thought it would be more likely to win you over little guy, so I haven’t thought that far” Hannah admitted.

I looked at her, really looked at her and despite her non mommy like appearance she seemed to me honest. Reliable and… a little funny.

“We have a housekeeper” I mumbled after a few moments averting my gaze.

The hug and the sweet and annoying hair ruffling I received caught me of guard.

“Thank you” she whispered with a voice full of emotion and continued changing her tone completely. “Now that we got this out of the way, please be a darling and make my daughter love you. She can be too stubborn sometimes, but she has a heart of gold. If you use your cute little face correctly, she will adore you in no time”

I chose not to respond verbally at her request. I just nodded my head as she beamed at me once more. After that, she took my hand in hers and we made our way back to the others. The memory of my father’s relieved face still makes me laugh. He had no luck with Amelia that day. The haughty brunette kept her frown the entire time we spent together that day.

I could not understand what Hannah meant about using my face. My face was the reason my mom left me behind and she was supposed to be the one to always love me. How was I supposed to make an unwilling girl love me when my looks were not enough for my own mother to stay with me?

The adoration in no time that Hannah had mentioned took quite a while in reality. Amelia or Millie as her mother often called her, was determined not to like my father or me. She was giving all three of us the cold shoulder. I had caught more than once Hannah trying to chastise her but to no avail.

After that initial warm up meeting, my dad and Hannah made sure that we spent all our weekends together either at their house or ours. Staying with them was a tough one as Amelia would stay locked up in her room until we were gone. Hannah as a typical mother would do, which I must say shocked me, threatened her daughter that if she did not join us to the dining table, she should not expect to be served a meal. The girl’s answer was indicative of her mood:

“See if I care”

And then she ran up to her room. And locked the door.

Despite the threat of no meals served, a plate of food and a jug of water always seemed to find their way to Amelia’s locked door. All the three months we were back and forth to their house I did not manage to find out who was it, though I guessed it was Hannah.

When they were in our house the situation was not that much different. She would spend more time in her given room where she would not lock and was obliged to sit with us on the table, but she would eat the minimum she could, and she would not speak to either of us. Needless to say, she never played with me. Not even in my house. Not even out of kindness or boredom. She barely even looked at me.

Hannah on the other hand was always good to me in a cool kind of way. She was not traditionally motherly, yet she played with me and most of the games were invented by her. She was not overly touchy, which I was thankful for, and she had not lied about being a terrible cook. I will not go into details about her cooking attempt on our first visit to her place since it was somewhat traumatizing. It will be enough to say that we always ordered when we stayed with Hannah.

One evening, when they were staying in ours, I was sent to call Amelia down for dinner. I tried to avoid it, but my dad was having none of it.

“She does not like me dad. She doesn’t like you either. I don’t want to go to her” I whined.

“She doesn’t know us, buddy” my father reasoned.

“She doesn’t want to know us and you won’t let me invite my friends over and play”

“Weekends are bonding time. Besides I do let you play more with them during the week, don’t I?”

“Yeah, but that’s not...”

“Hush. Go and don’t come down unless Amelia is with you” he said sternly.

I knew I was dismissed, and I left the kitchen dragging my steps to her room. I really did not want to have to deal with her. I could not stand her accusatory glare every time we made eye contact accidentally. Why she was so angry at us was beyond me.

I stood outside her door for several moments, gathering my courage but soon I realized I would not be ready for it any time soon. So, I knocked. And knocked. And then I knocked more and louder. My knuckles had begun to ache, so given my dad’s orders I did the only rational thing I could. I just opened the door and walked in.

She was sitting on her bed, headphones on her ears playing music too loud and she had an open book on her lap. She did not even notice me standing in the middle of her room. As for me, now that I was in, I did not know what to do to get her to notice me. I stood there observing her. To my 8-year-old self she was almost womanlike at 13. I found that interesting. It was like she belonged to a different female species. The in between. Not to mention she was really pretty despite her constant frowning.

Normally, I wouldn’t care too much about girls but I was obliged to see Amelia every weekend, so it became hard to not notice. She had brown hair and eyes, fair skin and every feature in her face though not perfect, created harmony and beauty. To my eyes she was absolutely beautiful that very moment.

After a few moments of pure admiration to which she was totally oblivious, I stepped closer to her bed and patted her on the shoulder. She almost jumped out of the bed, causing her headphones to slip from her head.

“How did you get in?” she demanded frowning when she recovered from her surprise.

“I opened the door” I replied my voice sounding too weak. “I knocked” I clarified trying to sound more confident.

“And did you hear me inviting you in, little boy?”

“Did you hear me knocking with your music on so loud?” I returned the question irritated.

I hated being called “little boy”.

“That’s irrelevant. You entered without permission” she insisted.

“You know what? This is my home and you are a guest” I snapped. “Just try to be more polite. Anyway. My father told me to take you down to dinner”

“You know what?” she said mockingly. “I am not hungry”.

I shrugged.

“Don’t care. I came to take you down and I am not leaving if you don’t come with me”

“Are you threatening me?” she shouted. “I am not going anywhere with you, stupid little boy”.

She got up from the bed and stood before me with her arms crossed in from of her chest. She was taller than me, but not by much.

“Don’t. I will stay here” strangely I was not intimidated by her tantrum, and I could be very stubborn too.

It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I wasn’t the type to give up.

“You are not allowed to stay here” she hissed.

“It is my house” I replied as passed by her and plopped down on the bed.

I was restraining myself from smiling smugly at her astonished face and just sat there. When she saw I had no intention to leave her alone she stomped her foot like the stubborn brat she was back then.

“Leave my room now” she demanded pronouncing each word through gritted teeth.

“Nope” I smiled and she huffed annoyed.

“You are making your mom sad with the stupid things you do” I spoke.

“This is none of your business. Plus, she deserves it”

“She doesn’t”

“What do you know little boy? Just because she plays mommy with you, you take her side?”

“She does not play mommy with me, and I don’t take sides. If I could choose, you wouldn’t be here. Not you or your mom”

“Oh really?” she mocked. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell them that? Then we will never have to come to this place again”

“No” I replied shaking my head. “My mom was the one to leave and forget about us. I only have my dad and he is happy with Hannah. Actually, if it weren’t for you, it wouldn’t be so bad”

“I am sorry to spoil your fun, but I want my family back the way it was”

“Me too, but my mom left with a strange man two years ago. My dad takes care of me as your mom tries to take care of you. She did not leave you so don’t be like that”

“You...”

“You don’t have to like us, you know. I am not sure I like you anyway” I muttered. “Just be good. Do it for your mother. She is the only one you have”

Before she had the time to answer Hannah peeked through the door.

“Is everything alright kids?” she asked with a slightly worried look.

“Yup, we’re cool, Hannah” I said as I got up from the bed. “We’re just coming down for dinner”