**The Awkward Age**
Because they had such different ideas about raising a child, Diana and Arthur divorced. Each blamed the other in their own way.
*”Arthur never took responsibility for anything, so I had to handle everything myself from the day Oliver was born,”* Diana explained.
*”My ex-wife never knew how to relax. She micromanaged everything, fussing over pointless things, and thats why she was always miserable,”* the former husband would say.
Oliver was fourteen now, 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 had remarried. Arthur lived alone in his late mothers flatshed passed seven years ago from a long illness.
When Oliver spent weekends with his father, especially this past year, Diana would unwind a little. But it wasnt really restshe still worried. She didnt trust Arthur to be responsible.
*”Jokes and funthats his thing. He was always about entertainment. But building something serious? Impossible. When it was just us, everything was fine. But having a child it changed everything.”*
Arthur had barely helped when Oliver was smallno care, no chores. Diana had adapted to motherhood quickly; Arthur never quite grasped fatherhood. Resentments festered, small complaints ballooning until they split.
Arthur had his own version.
*”We just didnt understand each other. I used to dream of having a childshowing him the world, teaching him things. But Diana turned parenting into a nightmare of rules and panic. She was terrified of germs, of illnesses that might threaten Oliver. I ended up afraid to touch him. If I did anything, it was wrong anyway. Eventually, I stopped trying.”*
*”Arthur, we should divorce,”* Diana had announced one day. To his own surprise, hed felt nothing but relief.
So they parted quietlyno drama, just an agreement that hed still see his son.
*”Whats the point arguing with someone who wont listen? Shes always right. How do you explain anything to that?”*
Eleven years later, Arthur hadnt remarriedonce was enough. Professionally, though, he thrived. Ironically, it was *because* of his love of funhe designed video games, and it paid well.
Diana tidied the kitchen after dinner and headed to Olivers room.
*”Left the bathroom light on again. So carelessjust like his father.”* She ignored the *”Do Not Enter”* sign on his door and pushed inside.
Same as alwaysOliver glued to his monitor, not even glancing up.
*”Oliver, flipping a switch isnt hard. Youre not a child anymore.”*
*”Yeah, yeah,”* he muttered.
*”Half an hour more on that game, then homework. Youve got a test tomorrow.”*
When she returned, he was still there. She snapped at him to switch off. Oliver rolled his eyes, hissed under his breath, and grabbed his history textbook.
As she peeled potatoes for tomorrows soup, she wondered:
*”How long will this awkward phase last? A year ago, he changed overnightimpossible to manage. Typical teenager. But if this drags on Ill lose my mind.”*
Saturday came. Arthur arrived, and Oliver burst from his room.
*”Dad! Finally!”* Arthur loved their weekends too.
*”Dont forget your books,”* Diana said sharply.
*”Oh my *God*, Mum, not again!”* Oliver groaned but grabbed his backpack and followed his father out, waving her off.
Arthur caught her parting words:
*”Help him with mathshes failing. And history too. We dont want him held back. And *dont* feed him pizza every meal!”* The door slammed.
In the car, father and son grinned.
*”Sowhats the plan?”*
*”Cinema, then the park,”* Oliver said slyly. *”And firstpizza!”* They laughed.
Now that Oliver was older, Arthur had found a way to connect. Friendship didnt just happenit needed shared time, common interests, easy talks without lectures.
*”Hows school?”*
*”Fine, Dad. Ive got it.”*
*”Course you do. But if youre stuck, well figure it out.”*
*”Its just my history teachers got it in for me. No reason. The *only* decent ones the PE coach…”*
When they left, Diana thought:
*”Of course hes happy. Arthur only reconnected when Oliver got older. Typicalhes the fun one. The hard stuffhomework, chores, mealsthats all me. And Oliver adores him for it.”*
*”Brilliant weekend. Go on, get inside,”* Arthur said, dropping Oliver home Sunday night.
*”Dad, that was *amazing*! Thanks!”*
Monday brought a parents evening. Dianas stomach twisted as the teacher slid Olivers grades across the tablea smattering of passes, one A in PE, the rest fails.
*”Hes getting it when I get home,”* she fumed, barely hearing the teachers words.
*”Olivers at risk of failing history and maths. Hes brightjust lazy. And he games in class…”*
Humiliated, she stormed home.
*”No laptop until he fixes this. And when? The years nearly over”*
She marched into his room, snatched his laptop mid-chat, and carried it out.
*”No games till summer. Fix those grades. Have you no shame?”*
*”Mum, relax. You always overreact,”* Oliver saidArthurs words exactly.
She couldnt stop. She ranted until*slam*Oliver fled. She snatched her phone.
*”ArthurOlivers run off. Probably to you. Hes talked about living with you before!”*
*”Calm down. Well sort it.”*
*”Dad I want to live with you,”* Oliver said when Arthur opened the door.
*”I want that too. But your mum wont agree. Not yet.”*
*”Dont make me go back. *Please*. Ill fix my grades.”*
*”Alright, stay. Ill talk to her.”*
To his shock, Diana barely resisted. She was quiet, defeated. He convinced her easily.
The next morning, Arthur shook Oliver awake.
*”Up, lazybones. Breakfast, then school.”* But when he checked back, Oliver was still asleep.
They scarfed toast, Arthur packed sandwiches, and they raced off.
*”Bed by ten tonight,”* Arthur said. Oliver nodded.
A week passedeasy, happy. Pizza, laughs. Then Oliver skipped school.
*”Teachers ill,”* he said. It happened again. And again.
Diana got the call.
*”Olivers skipping. Hes failed history and maths.”*
She exploded.
*”This is *your* parenting!”* she screamed at Arthur. *”Im taking him back!”*
At his flat, she stammered:
*”Youweour sonI just came from school”* Oliver bolted before the storm hit.
*”Hes not been in class. Hes failed. Resits in July!”*
Arthur was guttedhed trusted him.
Then Dianas mother called.
*”Olivers here. Says he cant live with you anymore. Let him stay.”*
*”Hes safeat Mums,”* Diana breathed.
*”Dont cry,”* Arthur said softly. *”We need a plan. Grandma wont last longhell run again. I was the same. Clever ladknows shell spoil him. Orders wont work. We need to unite. Whens your holiday?”*
They went awaytents, backpacks, textbooks. Diana drilled history; Arthur, maths. It worked.
Outside school on results day, Diana and Arthur waited, tense.
*”He did it!”* Diana cried as Oliver sprinted out, waving his slip.
*”Passed! *Yes*!”*
*”Well done,”* they chorused.
*”Nowthe best ice cream in town,”* Arthur declared, hitting the gas.
In the café, Diana watched themlaughing, messing about. No anger, no bitterness. It wouldnt have worked without him.
Arthur caught her gaze. *”See? We did it. No more fear. Together, well manage.”*
She knew the past was gone. But nowthey *were* together. And finally, they understood.
