“Oh, hello, dear,” I answered, my tone softening.
“Mom, please come and live with us, as our condo is spacious and it will be so much livelier with you here. Nicholas is always worried about your health and he cannot rest easy with you living all by yourself, so you can come here and I will take care of you, we can chat, and it will be so nice, Mom.”
Hazel’s voice had a strange ability to persuade, and her warmth and kindness made it difficult for me to refuse.
I knew the girl had a good heart, but I could still hear the obedience beneath her words, as if the decision had come from Nicholas and she could only follow it.
I sighed and stayed silent for a long while, my mind turning into a battlefield.
On one side was the freedom and peace I had longed for after so many storms, and on the other was duty, my love for my son, and my fear that if I refused, Nicholas would lose his temper.
I was afraid of his anger, because I had once lived inside a hell made of anger, and I did not want to face it again.
“All right, then,” I finally surrendered, “let me pack for a few days.”
“Oh, that is wonderful, and my husband will be there this weekend to pick you up,” Hazel said, joy filling her voice.
After hanging up, I stood silently in my vegetable garden, and in the days that followed, I began packing.
I did not own much, only a few old clothes, a faded photo album, and several favorite books.
As I turned through the pages of the album and looked at pictures of Nicholas’s bright childhood smile, my heart softened again.
Maybe I was thinking too much. He was my son, the boy I had raised with my own hands, and he was bringing me to live with him because he was worried about me and felt it was his responsibility.
“I should be happy,” I told myself.
I packed away my past, half a lifetime of memories, and prepared for a new journey, saying goodbye to my neighbors and old friends who had shared morning and evening conversations with me.
Everyone was happy for me, saying how fortunate I was that my son was taking me to the city to care for me in my old age, and I only smiled, though the smile was not complete.
That weekend, Nicholas arrived in a shining black luxury sedan, and when I saw my son in a tailored suit, looking every inch like a successful man, an indescribable pride rose inside me.
He moved around busily, helping me with my belongings and repeatedly asking whether I was comfortable.
Hazel came with him, and the warm family feeling temporarily swept away my uneasiness.
“Mom, look, I bought you a few things,” Nicholas said, opening the trunk to show several boxes of expensive vitamins and supplements.
“Oh, you should not have spent all this money, I do not need anything,” I scolded him lovingly.
“I do not lack money, Mom, just time to take care of you. I can only work with peace of mind if you are living with us,” he said, sounding sincere.
The car pulled away, leaving behind the small town, the old roof, and the familiar garden. On the wide highway, skyscrapers slowly rose ahead of us like giants.
The noisy, crowded energy of the city made me feel somewhat overwhelmed.
Nicholas and Hazel’s condo was on the 18th floor of an upscale residential building, far larger than I had expected, with polished hardwood floors and lavish furniture that showed expense and luxury.
Nicholas guided me into a small but fully equipped room with a window facing a green, leafy park.
“This is your room. I have had a TV and air conditioning installed for you, and if you need anything, just tell Hazel, so do not be a stranger.”
“It is wonderful, son, and thank you both so much,” I said.
Hazel carefully helped me place my clothes in the closet. That girl was always like that, constantly busy, always wearing a gentle smile.
But I noticed that whenever Nicholas was nearby, her smile looked a little stiff, and a flash of caution and fear would pass through her eyes.
The first dinner seemed warm on the surface. The meal was generous and filled with all my favorite dishes.
“Mom, eat more, as you are too thin,” Nicholas said, putting a large piece of fish into my bowl.
“I can get it myself, you eat,” I replied.
“Hazel, are you not going to get Mom some more soup, as what are you just sitting there for?”
He turned to his wife, and although his voice was not loud, it was full of authority.
Hazel flinched and quickly served me some soup. I saw her hand tremble faintly, but I pretended not to notice and smiled at her.
“Thank you, dear, and the soup is delicious,” I said.
During the entire meal, Nicholas did most of the talking. He spoke about work, about major projects, about competitive pressure, and he described his accomplishments with no humility, full of pride and satisfaction.
Hazel and I simply sat there listening, nodding from time to time.
I suddenly realized that my son was no longer the little boy who needed me to protect him. He had become a worldly man, a man with power, and he had brought that power into his own home.
That night, lying in the unfamiliar soft bed, I tossed and turned without sleeping. The sounds of the city drifted through the window: distant car horns and the faint murmur of people talking.
Everything was new, and everything made me uneasy.
