My son has always been my friend and my pillar, but after his marriage we became strangers.
I never imagined my child could change so dramatically under someone elses influence. My only son, Alexandre, was always a golden boypolite, kind, eager to help. He grew up that way and stayed that way into adulthood. Until he married, we were inseparable: we met often, talked for hours about everything and nothing, shared our sorrows and joys, and supported each other, always within reasonable limitsI never meddled beyond what was necessary. Everything fell apart when Marine entered his life.
For their wedding, Alexandre and Marine received a oneroom apartment in the heart of Lyon from his parents. It became their little nest, freshly renovated. I was never invited over, but Alexandre showed me photos on his phone: bright walls, new furniture, a cozy atmosphere. After my husbands death I had no savings left, so I decided to give almost all my jewelrygold chains, rings, earrings accumulated over the yearsto the young couple. I told Marine, If you want to melt them down, I dont mind. I wanted to help them start their life together.
But Marine showed her true colors immediately. A sharptempered woman, she was as cutting as a blade. I noticed how she rummaged through the wedding envelopes stuffed with cash, curious about the amount inside, which worried me. On one hand, that trait could make a good wife; on the other, it meant I had to stay on guard. Nowadays many women treat their husbands as wallets, spend his money as if it were theirs, then divorce, take half, and move on to a new prey. I dont want that fate for Alexandre, yet the anxiety gnaws at me.
Six months after the wedding, Marine declared she didnt want children right now. Not now, she said, in this tiny flat its impossible. She raised her arms and added, What can we do? I dont want to take a loan, and we dont know when well afford a bigger place. Alexandre isnt a big boss yet. I heard the calculation in her voice. Meanwhile, I live in the house my late husband began buildingunfinished, with holes in the walls, freezing in winter because my pension cant heat it fully. Then Marine suggested, Sell your house, buy a studio, give us the rest for a new flat. Then well think about kids.
Do you see what she means? She wants me, an elderly and frail woman, to give up my home while they take the best of everything. Perhaps theyd even push me into a nursing home. At first I thought I might agreeif only they helped me financially once a month. Now? Never! With someone like Marine you must stay vigilant; she can strike at any moment.
After that conversation Alexandre visited me several times, subtly implying his idea wasnt so bad: Why do you need a big house? An apartment would be simpler, with lower charges. I held my ground: The city is growing; in five to ten years the houses will appreciate. My land is no longer on the outskirtsselling now would be foolish. One day I proposed a swap: they would move into my house and I into their studio. After all, its the same, right? Marine refused. She didnt like that the house needed repairs and investment while I would live comfortably in their gifted flat. She prefers comfort, even when my offer is more advantageous. Thats just how she is; nothing can change it.
Then I fell seriously ill, down to my bones. Confined to bed with fever, cough, and excruciating headaches, I called Alexandre, begging him to bring food and medicine. I knew they were busy, but I couldnt even boil water. I never imagined he would drop everything for me. He arrived only the next day, gave me a packet of Fervex powder, left an unwrapped box of possibly expired aspirin on the table, shrugged, and left. Fortunately a friend came to my rescue, bringing soup, medication, everything I needed. If she hadnt been there, what would have become of me?
My son was my light, my support all my life. I trusted him blindlyhe was more than a son, a friend, a part of me. The marriage erased all that. We are now strangers, and I cannot change it. He is my only child, my love, my pride, yet his heart now belongs elsewhere. Marine placed herself between us like a wall, leaving me on the other sidealone, abandoned, useless. Reason says the bond is broken. Its time for him to choosehis mother or his wife. The choice is as clear as day. Still, my heart clings to the hope that he remembers what I was to him and returns. Each day, however, that hope melts like snow under a foreign sun.
My Son Was My Best Friend and Rock Throughout My Life, But After His Wedding, We Became Strangers.
