Oh, for heavens sake, stop pretending youre a heroine and acting like you have it all under control, said Olivia, setting a packet of nappies and a tub of baby porridge on the table. Ive seen your posts, the glossy ones. Youd think you knew everything if you werent looking at the truth.
Emma didnt even glance at her sister. She stared at her phone with a stonecold expression, hunched over the kitchen table. From the next room, a twoyearolds cries pierced the air: little Charlie was demanding attention, his voice a tiny rebellion. Emma didnt stir.
Charlie, Im coming! a voice shouted from the master bedroom, the mothers tone urgent as she went to rock her grandson.
Olivia slipped off her coat, draped it over the back of a chair and turned back to Emma. She was too irritated to back down quietly.
Tell me straight. Do you really believe youre coping, that youre a great mum? Or are you just parroting the slogans from parenting forums?
Emma sighed, paused a heartbeat, but never met her sisters eyes.
Listen, I never asked you to buy anything. Olivia replied. Right, you didnt. As always, you sit there hungry, swaddled in dirty wipes, while mum pours soup and buys nappies. Then you pretend to be a strong woman again.
Silence fell. Even Charlies wails hushed behind the wall. Only the soft, soothing voice of their mother drifted through. Olivia closed her eyes for a moment.
They were all exhausted after those eighteen months.
Emma left Mark when Charlie was barely six months old. She stormed out with a flare, lambasting him for not even washing his own dishes or changing a nappy. Mark, her ex, could only shrug. He juggled two jobs, came home late, so tired he sometimes fell asleep in his chair. Yet he tried: washing bottles, lugging bags, even crooning lullabies, however offkey.
Hes betrayed us, Emma had said then. He chose his work over us.
Olivia simply shrugged; everyone can make their own choices.
Except when that everyone settles onto someone elses shoulders and proudly refuses to pay child support. Emma now lived as if on a holiday resort. Her dad paid the bills, her mum cooked, and she proudly posted about inner strength and female independence.
The mother entered the room, two pale crescents under her eyes.
Charlies finally asleep, thank goodness. Olivia, why are you picking on Emma again? she asked.
Me? Picking? Olivia was about to laugh. The only thing you dont do for her is wipe her bottom, and she wont even flinch. Shes happy with everything.
Im not asking for anything, mind you. No one owes anyone anything! Emma snapped. You, on the other hand, never do anything. You just live here and take advantage of every convenience.
A memory floated up: two months earlier, their father had once again postponed fixing a dental crown.
No problem, Ill wait, hed said to mum with a grin. We need to dress Charlie up, hes already grown out of his baby clothes.
Dad never complained. Never. Later the family discovered he wasnt taking his essential medication because there was no money to buy it. Olivia quietly transferred funds, hoping theyd cover the prescriptions.
Emma sprang up, dodging past Olivia, fleeing the conversation as usual.
Olivia dont be like that Emma
Whats Emmas problem? Shes comfortable. Its just her pride that will ruin you. Money issues cant be solved with empty words. Youve had a stroke, your dads heart is weak, and she pretends shes the heroine of a Hollywood melodrama: solitary, proud, misunderstood.
Mum looked at her daughter with a pained stare. Everyone understood, but nobody could act.
Olivia walked toward the door, stopped, and wanted to say something warm, something that would keep mum from shedding tears after she left.
Take care, mum. Check the firstaid kit and speak to dad. Ill bring the tablets tomorrow if they run out. she said.
Ol thank you, mum replied, her voice heavy.
Olivia left without looking back, knowing shed see the tears later.
A week passed. Olivia visited less often. She wasnt offended; she just didnt want to watch the familys unraveling. She came to drop off money, medicines, a few things for Charlie, then left quickly. Emma accepted everything with a flat expression, as if it were the natural order.
One morning, scrolling through her contacts, Olivia stumbled on a familiar name: Simon. Hed once worked with Mark. Hope prickled her heart. It felt like a chance, perhaps a sign.
Three days later they met in a tiny café. Olivia fidgeted with a paper napkin. Mark arrived seven minutes late, apologised, and sat opposite her. Hed lost a few pounds, but the gauntness made him look older, not healthier.
You see, he began after listening to her long story. Im not abandoning my son. Ive tried to fix things. Its just that whenever I send money, she sends it back and throws a fit.
They wont last that long, Olivia sighed. Dad halves his tablets. Mum turned down a rehab centre. And Emma she clings to some stubborn principles. No ones to blame for the cobwebs in her head.
Mark nodded, his tone suggesting he was ready to help.
Heres a plan. Ill transfer money to you, youll distribute it. Send receipts or photos thank you, no? well trust each other. I just want Charlie to have a normal life and your parents not to suffer because of all this.
Olivia wasnt sure she was doing the right thing. It felt like betrayal, yet her sister wasnt a saint either.
Two days later the first transfer arrived: a tidy £95. Olivia handed the cash to her mother, who was surprised only by the amount, not the fact that her daughter was still helping.
Another transfer followed, smaller, earmarked for dads medication, then a third for a pair of boots for Charlie.
Emma pretended not to notice, or pretended she didnt.
One evening Olivia stopped by for half an hour. Emma was in the bathroom, Charlie watched cartoons, mum was rolling dumplings at the kitchen table while dad helped.
Olivia, we bought Charlie a new coat with your money! mum beamed. Youre such a star. Were getting embarrassed taking help maybe well manage on our own soon?
Olivia felt a sting. Shed taken undeserved praise before, and each time it pressed on her conscience. Now the whole chain of assistance threatened to snap.
Mum I need to tell you and dad something. Its not me, its Mark. Hes helping, she whispered.
Silence fell. Dad stopped kneading dough. Mum froze, spoon in hand.
Mark? she repeated. Emma told us hed vanished from the radar.
Right. He said hed cut off her phone because she ignored him everywhere, Olivia sighed, realizing Emma hadnt said everything. Anyway, truth always sits somewhere in the middle. What matters is the help.
Parents took the news calmly, almost relieved. They kept accepting money without a flicker of shame.
Then a new problem rose.
Thank you, Mark. Its a little easier now, mum murmured to dad about the next months budget.
Mum didnt know Olivia was still awake, her ears perfectly tuned.
And then everything unraveled
So youve been taking money from my ex behind my back?! Emma burst into the kitchen. Youre all traitors! Youre in cahoots!
A tirade followed. Mum cracked under the pressure. Later Emma called Olivia in the dead of night.
You thought you were clever, handling everything silently? You humiliated me! My child doesnt need your handouts! she shouted.
What are you on about, Emma? Olivia replied, sleepy, yawning. Im just doing what you lack the strength and conscience for. Stop blaming the sick for the healthy.
Off with you! Emma screamed. I dont need anyones help! Ill manage on my own!
The argument halted. Emma gathered her things, shoved Charlie into the pram, slammed the door, and vanished into the night, not saying where she was heading.
A phrase a friend, Lara, had whispered six months earlier swirled in her mind: If you need anything, just call. It had sounded like a sweet promise then, now it was her only lifeline.
Lara didnt refuse. She welcomed Emma, kissed Charlie, led them to a spare room, even warmed a dinner for them, then gently probed what had happened.
Everythings fine. Its just stifling here, Emma muttered. I need to be alone for a while. Stay with you, then on my own.
The first night passed quietly. Lara even enjoyed the company; one person is less lonely. But by morning the small cracks appeared. Emma left dishes unwashed, complained about the food being too salty or too greasy.
The next day she pulled a sealed jar of instant coffee from a cupboard without asking. It turned out to be a stash for gifts. That evening she begged Lara for a few pounds.
Ive spent the last bit on nappies. Could you lend me something? Please until I get a job.
Lara forced a tight smile, said shed see what she could do. Later, as Charlie slept, Lara approached Emma.
Listen theres a situation. Artem is coming down from Kent. You remember him, right? Weve been planning this for ages
You want me to leave? Emma asked, bewildered.
Not exactly It just happened. Do you have anywhere else to go?
Yeah, Emma nodded, though inside a knot tightened. Ill manage.
At dawn Emma packed in silence, barely holding back tears. Lara moved about the kitchen, avoiding eye contact. Emma dressed Charlie, slipped on his shoes, lingered a moment in the hallway, unsure what to say, then left without a proper goodbye.
Standing outside the flat, she felt a hollow she hadnt known for years empty, ashamed, terrified. Options spun like knives in her mind. Not back to her parents never. Let them spin with their pills and retreats. With Lara, everything was already clear.
And then she remembered Mark. Hed been desperate to rekindle things, though shed ignored him. Of all the possible saviors, he was the only one left, so she dialed his number.
Hello? he answered.
Its me Emma. Charlie and I could we stay with you for a few days?
A pause, then:
Of course, Marks voice was cautious but warm.
The call ended, and a tentative, awkward new life began clumsy, trustless, but at least moving forward.
Olivia learned of their reunion first. Her parents tried calling Emma, got no answer. After three days they gave up; on the fourth, Olivia finally rang.
Hello? she heard a faint, deflated voice.
Yes, Emma replied. Were at Marks. Ill call back later.
At Marks? Is Charlie alright? Olivia asked.
Hes fine, Emma said. All good.
Olivia raised an eyebrow, surprised. She managed a thin smile, thinking it was better than Emma being stuck on her parents necks. All she could hope for was that the wounded pride that had pushed Emma toward Mark wouldnt cause another split.
