Youve achieved nothing, my boss would say, but he didnt realise that my new manager was my son from my former husbands side.
Give me the shirt the white one! Cant you see what I need? Raymonds voice sliced through the quiet of the kitchen.
He stood in the middle of the room, tugging fiercely at the knot of his most expensive tie, eyeing me as if I were a clueless servant.
Today were welcoming the new director. I have to look a million pounds sharp. I said nothing, simply handing him a hanger with a flawlessly ironed white shirt. He snatched it as if Id stolen his precious time. Raymond was on edge, turning into a bundle of bile and passive aggression in moments like this.
He unleashed his fury on me, the only person in his world he believed would never push back.
This new kid is a flashinthepan. A boy, already a director. Supposedly his surname is Vorn. My fingers froze on the coffee pots handle for a breath. Vorn the name of my first husband, the name of my son.
You cant understand this, Raymond muttered, staring at his reflection in the mirrored cupboard doors. Youre just a housewife, stuck in your cosy little swamp. Youve never wanted anything. He smoothed his tie, a selfsatisfied sneer curling his lips. That grin was aimed not at me but at the successful man in the mirror hed spent years polishing.
And then a different morning flashed through my mind, years ago.
I, swollen with tears, cradling little Arthur in my arms, while my first husband, Steve, muttered helplessly that he had nothing to offer and could never provide for us.
In that rented onebed flat with a leaking tap, I decided: my son would have everything. I worked two, sometimes three jobs. First while Arthur was in nursery, then at school. I fell asleep over his worksheets, later over university notes. I sold the only thing I ownedmy mothers flatso he could take that coveted internship in Cambridges tech hub.
He was my main project, my most precious startup.
People say hes the son of a poor engineer, Raymond continued, savoring the detail like a gourmand. Imagine thatfrom mud to a lord. Those are usually the most hardened. He recalled how, at a corporate party, drunk and brazen, he had publicly humiliated my exhusband.
Steve had walked into their firm with a halfbaked idea. Raymond snickered, calling him a dreamer with empty pockets.
He loved moments like that; they fed his inflated ego.
Hand me the shoe brush and the polishquickly. I fetched everything he demanded. My hands didnt tremble; inside me was a deep, absolute calm.
Raymond didnt know his new boss wasnt just any Vorn. He hadnt guessed that the boy was a cofounder of an IT company their holding had just bought for a small fortune, making him the director of an entire division. Nor did he realise that this flashinthepan remembered the man who had made his mother weep into her pillow.
He left, slamming the door behind him as was his habit.
I stood by the window, watching his car pull away.
That day Raymond was heading to the most important meeting of his life, unaware he was walking to his own scaffold.
Later, the door burst open as if someone had kicked it in. Raymond stormed into the hallway, his face flushed, his tie dangling like a wilted ribbon hed just freed.
I hate this! he hissed, hurling his briefcase into a corner. Can you believe this pup thinks he can?
I slipped out of the kitchen, watching him pace like a caged tiger.
He jabbered about me as if I were a rookie on placement, dissecting my quarterly report point by point, even asking if Id bought a diploma off the street. In his words I heard not contempt but a twisted kind of professionalism. This was my son, Arthur. He never missed a detail.
Do you know what he said last? Raymond stopped short, panic flickering in his eyes. MrRaymond, Im genuinely surprised youre still holding that post with those figures. I hope its a simple misunderstanding and you wont disappoint me further. That was a threatdirected at me!
He expected sympathy, advice, support. I stayed silent, staring at this broken, angry man, feeling nothing at all.
Why are you quiet? he exploded. Do you not care? Does it matter that the man who feeds, clothes, and supports you is trampled in the mud?
Then a brilliant idea, born of pure fear, sparked in his eyes.
I know what to do! Ill fix everything. Ill prove to Vorn Im not just a cog. Ill invite him to dinnerat our place. He locked his gaze on me.
Exactly. In an informal setting people let their guard down. Hell see my home, my status. And you, he snarled, youll make sure I have a solid backinga perfect wife and immaculate household. Its your only chance to be useful.
He thought the plan clever, using me as a pretty backdrop.
Then something clicked inside me. I saw the whole picture: the perfect storm hed conjured with his own hands. And I realised it was my chance.
Fine, I said calmly, unaware Id set a trap. Ill host the dinner.
The doorbell rang precisely at seven, sharp as a signal.
Raymond, who had been wandering the flat for half an hour, sprang to the entrance, a fake smile plastered on his face.
I followed, preparing all his favourite dishes, constructing the illusion of the perfect picture he craveda perfect trap.
The door opened. Standing there was Arthur.
Tall, in an immaculate suit, he looked at least twentysix. His gaze was calm and confident. He extended his hand to Raymond.
Arthur Vorn, thank you for the invitation, he said.
Raymond shook his hand, his grip far firmer than his own.
Raymond Vorn! Delighted! Make yourself at home!
Arthur stepped inside and met my eyes. He didnt smile, just staredlong, serious. In that look lay our whole history.
This is my wife, Emily, Raymond announced, puffing up. My rock, my hope.
Were acquainted, Arthur replied evenly, never breaking eye contact.
Raymond froze, his smile trembling.
Acquainted? From where? he stammered.
All evening he tried to regain control, bragging about his successes and tossing inappropriate jokes. Arthur listened politely but kept his distance. The atmosphere at the table grew thick, sticky, like tar. Raymond kept pouring wine, feeling his plan slip.
Then he struck at the most painful pointme.
Arthur Vorn, youre so young and already at the top. Thats because you have the right bearings. As for my Emily shes had a rough go. He set his fork down gently.
Her first husband was lets say a dreamer, Raymond sighed. An engineer with not a penny in his pocket. He lived in fantasies, couldnt feed a family, so Emily found happiness with me because she achieved nothing herself.
That was the line, the final drop, spoken in my sons presencethe son of that very engineerdreamer.
Enough.
I lifted my head.
Youre right, Raymond. I truly achieved nothing. No career, no millions. I paused, watching his face shift.
I had only one project. Oneandonlymy son. I turned to Arthur. I poured everything into himmy whole life, every ounce of strength, every beliefso hed grow up and never let people like you trample himself or his loved ones.
I glanced back at Raymond; fear crept into his eyes.
So meet him, Raymond. This is Arthur Vorn, son of that engineerdreamer, my most successful project.
The room felt as if it could be cut with a knife. Raymonds smug grin melted away.
Arthur rose.
MrRaymond, his voice was steady, metallic in its calm, thank you for dinner. It was instructive.
My father had indeed been a dreamer. He dreamed of a world where professionalism was valued above sycophancy. A shame there was no room for that in your department.
Arthur, Raymond stammered, I I didnt know This is a misunderstanding!
The fact youre an incompetent manager is a fact. The fact youve belittled my mother for years is another. Ill be handing in my resignation tomorrow at nine. Dont force me to audit your projectsyoull find something there.
Raymond slumped, looking at me with pleading eyes.
I stood as well.
Leave, Raymond. My leave sounded like a period, not a scream.
He croaked, trying to justify himself.
Emily you cant this house
The only thing you gave me was this house. And now its mine, I replied evenly. Pack everything that fits in one suitcase.
He finally understood. The game was over.
He turned and walked out. The click of the closing door was the final punctuation of a long sentence.
I was left in the living room. Arthur came over and took my hand.
Mum, how are you? he asked, looking at his greatest achievement.
Now everythings alright, I said.
Did I truly achieve nothing? Perhaps I never became a CEO or amassed a fortune, but I raised a man. That turned out to be enough to reclaim my life.
Six months later, the first thing I did after his departure was remodel. I ripped out heavy wallpaper, removed bulky furniture that screamed status, and turned the house from a showcase of someone elses success into my own.
I opened a small flower shop with a workshop. Id always loved plants, though Raymond dismissed it as a hobby for fools. Turns out my hobby could bring both joy and a modest income.
It was Saturday when Arthur stopped by.
Dad called, he said. He sent his regards. Hes landed a massive grant for his waterpurification system and is heading to Cambridge. He said I was right to dream.
I smiled. Wed long forgiven each others old wounds.
Mom, you know what I thought? Arthur said seriously. That Raymond was right about something.
I raised an eyebrow.
You really achieved nothing, in the way he measured achievement, he continued. But you did far more. You kept yourself, you raised me. Thats not a project, Mum. Thats life. And youve lived it well.
I looked at my grown son, his eyes now free of childhood pain, filled only with steady strength.
What will you do now? he asked.
Ive signed up for language classes, I replied, surprised at how natural the words felt.
He nodded, his gaze warm and proud, and I needed nothing else.
Did I achieve nothing? Maybe, by his old standards. But I finally began to livefor myself. And thats the greatest achievement of all.
