My father left my mother and me when I was ten years old. From our life together I remember only quarrels and swearing. My mother got alimony through the court. But the money that he paid as alimony could not be called a help. My mother died early, leaving me alone. Two years after her death I got married and gave birth to a son. We lived in my two-room apartment, which I inherited from my mother. After the birth of the boy, our relationship with my husband deteriorated, but not critically. One day our doorbell rang. I went to open it, and there stood my father.
In person. Well, if you think about it, he is not a stranger to me, I thought and let him in. – Hello, daughter. I came to live with you, – he said, barely crossing the threshold. – Have you gone crazy with old age? Why should I take you in?” I asked in surprise. Did I pay you alimony? Yes, you did. So, according to the law, you have to provide for my old age, – he did not hesitate to substantiate his claim, – And where will I put you? We already have little space, – I said. – This is your concern.
I have to shelter you, period, – he said. As it turned out, he was kicked out of the second family. And since the other family was not officially registered, the father could not show them anything. So he came to me. I had to let him live with me. He did not part with his vice, and even began to involve my husband in his activities. My strained relationship with my husband turned into scandals. I kicked my husband out of the house. But I will not file for alimony. So that he could not, in the future, make claims to my son.
