He studied my face with the serious intensity that children bring to important questions.
“No, you seem like Grandma Patty.”
“That’s because I am Grandma Patty. And Grandma Patty makes decisions for good reasons, even when other people don’t like those decisions.”
From across the street, I heard Norah’s car door slam.
She was getting impatient, probably worried that her script wasn’t being followed closely enough.
“I have to go,” Damon whispered, glancing nervously toward his mother. “But Grandma Patty, I’m sorry about what I said at the house. Mommy told me to say those words, but they made me feel bad inside.”
And just like that, a seven-year-old child showed more integrity than either of his parents had managed in years.
“Thank you for telling me that, sweetheart. That took courage.”
He gave me a watery smile and ran back to the car.
As they drove away, I saw Norah’s face in the passenger window, and the fury there was unmistakable.
Her plan hadn’t worked.
3 days later, Trent showed up at my door.
I hadn’t seen him since the day at the mansion, and I was shocked by his appearance.
He looked like he had aged 5 years in 2 weeks.
His clothes were wrinkled, his hair uncomed, and there was a desperate quality to his movements that reminded me of the night terrors he used to have as a child.
“Mom,” he said when I opened the door. “We need to talk.”
“No,” I replied. “We don’t.”
I started to close the door, but he put his hand against it.
“Please, 5 minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
Against my better judgment, I let him in.
He stood in my living room, the place where I had comforted him through heartbreaks and celebrated his successes, and I could see him taking inventory, probably calculating what everything was worth.
“You look tired,” I observed.
He laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Yeah. Well, it’s been a rough couple of weeks. We’ve been staying in a motel since we had to move out of the rental. Norah’s not handling it well.”
“I’m sure she isn’t.”
“Mom, I know you’re angry, but think about what you’re doing. You’re destroying your own family over a misunderstanding.”
I sat down in David’s chair and folded my hands in my lap.
“Tell me about the power of attorney, Trent.”
The color drained from his face.
“What power of attorney?”
“The one you forged. The one that would have given you control over all my money.”
For a moment, he just stood there opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for air.
Then, to my amazement, he tried to lie.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Someone must have made a mistake at the bank.”
“The bank has recordings of you calling 17 times trying to access my accounts. They have copies of documents with my forged signature. And I know about Marcus Web.”
That name hit him like a physical blow.
His shoulders slumped.
And for the first time since he was a teenager, I saw my son look genuinely ashamed.
“How did you find out about Marcus?”
“It doesn’t matter how. What matters is that you tried to steal from me. Your own mother.”
“It wasn’t stealing,” he said quickly, desperately. “It was just planning ahead, making sure your affairs were in order. Norah was worried about you living alone, making financial decisions without anyone to help you.”
“Stop!”
My voice cut through his excuses like a blade.
“Just stop. I know exactly what you were planning, and it had nothing to do with helping me.”
He was quiet for a long moment, and when he looked at me again, I saw something I had never seen before in my son’s eyes.
Hatred.
“You’re going to regret this,” he said quietly. “You think you’re so smart, so independent, but you’re just a lonely old woman with no one left who cares about you.”
“If that’s true,” I replied evenly, “then what does that say about the son I raised?”
He flinched as if I had slapped him.
“I tried to give you everything,” he continued, his voice rising. “A good childhood, a college education, financial support whenever you needed it. And this is how you repay me? By humiliating me in front of my wife and child?”
The audacity of it was breathtaking.
“You tried to give me everything? Trent, I worked three jobs to put you through college. I gave you the down payment for your first house. I’ve been supporting your family for years. What exactly did you give me?”
“I gave you purpose,” he shouted. “I gave you a reason to get up in the morning. Without us, what do you have? What’s the point of your life without your family?”
And there it was.
The truth that had been hiding behind all the manipulation and fake concern.
In his mind, I existed solely to serve his needs.
My money, my time.
My life itself had no value except as it related to him.
“Get out,” I said quietly.
“Mom—”
“Get out of my house now.”