“Mom, it’s Clara.”
“Oh, hello, dear.”
I softened my tone.
“Mom, please come and live with us. The condo is spacious, and it will be so much livelier with you here. Julian is always worried about your health. He can’t rest easy with you living all by yourself. You can come here. I’ll take care of you. We can chat. It will be so nice, Mom.”
Clara’s voice had a peculiar persuasiveness. Her warmth and kindness made it impossible to refuse. I knew this girl had a good heart, but I could still sense the compliance in her words. The decision had been Julian’s, and she could only obey.
I sighed, silent for a long moment. My mind was a battlefield. On one side was the freedom and peace I craved after so many storms. On the other was duty, my love for my son, and the fear that if I refused, Julian would fly into a rage.
I was terrified of his anger. I had lived in a hell of anger before, and I did not want to face it again.
“All right, then,” I finally surrendered. “Let me pack for a few days.”
“Oh, wonderful. My husband will be there this weekend to pick you up.”
Clara’s voice was filled with joy.
After we hung up, I stood silently in my vegetable garden. Over the next few days, I began to pack. I didn’t have much: a few old clothes, a faded photo album, and a couple of my favorite books.
As I flipped through the pages of the album, looking at photos of Julian’s bright smile as a child, my heart softened again. Maybe I was overthinking things. After all, he was my son, the boy I had raised with my own two hands. He was bringing me to live with him out of a sense of duty because he was worried about me. I should be happy.
I packed up my past, half a lifetime of memories, and prepared for a new journey. I said goodbye to my neighbors, the old friends with whom I shared morning and evening chats. Everyone was happy for me, saying how lucky I was that my son was taking me to the city to be cared for in my old age.
I just smiled, an incomplete smile.
That weekend, Julian pulled up in a gleaming black luxury sedan. Seeing my son dressed in a tailored suit, looking every bit the successful man, a wave of indescribable pride washed over me. He bustled about, helping me with my things, constantly asking if I was comfortable.
Clara had come with him, and the warm family atmosphere temporarily swept away my worries.
“Mom, look. I bought you a few things.”
Julian opened the trunk, revealing several boxes of expensive vitamins and supplements.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have, spending all this money. I don’t need anything.”
I chided him lovingly.
“I don’t lack money, Mom. Just time to take care of you. I can only work with peace of mind if you’re living with us,” he said, his tone sincere.
The car started, leaving the small town, the old roof, and the familiar garden behind. On the wide highway, skyscrapers gradually rose before us like giants. The noisy, bustling atmosphere of the city left me feeling a little overwhelmed.
Julian and Clara’s condo was on the 18th floor of a high-end residential building. It was much larger than I had imagined, with gleaming hardwood floors and luxurious furniture that spoke of expense and opulence.
Julian led me to a small but well-equipped room with a window overlooking a lush green park.
“This is your room. I’ve had a TV and air conditioning installed for you. If you need anything, just tell Clara. Don’t be a stranger.”
“It’s wonderful, son. Thank you both so much.”
Clara skillfully helped me put my clothes into the closet. This girl was always like that, constantly busy, always with a gentle smile on her face. But I noticed that whenever Julian was near, her smile seemed a bit strained, and a flicker of caution and timidity would cross her eyes.
The first dinner was held in a seemingly warm atmosphere. The meal was lavish, filled with all my favorite dishes.
“Mom, eat more. You’re too thin,” Julian said, placing a large piece of fish in my bowl.
“I can get it myself. You eat.”
“Clara, aren’t you going to get Mom some more soup? What are you just sitting there for?”
He turned to his wife. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was filled with authority.
Clara flinched and quickly ladled some soup for me. I saw her hand tremble slightly. I pretended not to notice and smiled at her.
“Thank you, dear. The soup is delicious.”
Throughout the meal, it was mostly Julian who did the talking. He talked about work, about big projects, about the pressures of competition. He spoke of his achievements without any modesty, full of self-satisfaction.
Clara and I just sat and listened, nodding occasionally.
I suddenly realized my son was no longer the little boy who needed my protection. He had become a man of the world, a man with power, and he had brought that power home with him.
That night, lying in the unfamiliar soft bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The sounds of the city drifted in through the window, the distant blare of car horns, the faint murmur of people talking. Everything was new, and everything made me uneasy.
I tried to soothe myself.
“Everything will be fine. I just need time to adjust.”
During the first few days in my son’s luxurious condo, I thought my worries had been for nothing. The new life wasn’t as oppressive as I had imagined. On the contrary, it was filled with what seemed like sincere care.
In the mornings, after Julian left for work, Clara would often accompany me to the farmers market. She wouldn’t let me carry a thing, always asking,
“Mom, what do you feel like eating? I’ll make it for you.”
She listened patiently to my scattered stories about my teaching career and my old students. Occasionally, she would take me to a large shopping mall and buy me a few new outfits, despite my repeated refusals.
“Mom, that looks so elegant on you,” she would praise, her smile gentle, her eyes clear. “Julian would be so happy to see you in it.”
Julian also played the part of a devoted son. Every evening when he returned from work, no matter how tired he was, he would first stop by my room to greet me.
