My son had always been my confidant and my rock throughout my life, but after his wedding we turned into strangers.
Alexandre, my only child, had never ceased to be kind, polite, and eager to helpa goldenhearted boy who grew into a respectable adult. 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 within reasonable boundsI never meddled in his affairs beyond what was necessary. Everything collapsed the moment Marine entered his world.
For their wedding, Marines parents gifted the couple a freshly renovated oneroom apartment in the heart of Lyon. It became their little nest. I was never invited over, but Alexandre showed me pictures on his phone: bright walls, new furniture, a cozy atmosphere. After my husbands death I was left with no savings, so I decided to pass 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. My intention was simply to help them start their married life.
But Marine revealed her true nature immediately. A sharptempered woman, as cutting as a blade. I noticed how she rifled through the wedding envelopes stuffed with cash, curious about the amount inside, which unsettled me. On one hand that trait could make a diligent wife; on the other, it warned me to stay cautious. Nowadays many women treat their husbands like walking wallets, spend his money as if it were theirs, then divorce, take half, and hunt for a new target. I do not wish that fate for Alexandre, yet the worry gnaws at me.
Six months after the ceremony, Marine announced she didnt want children yet. Not now, she said, in our tiny flat its impossible. She threw up her hands: 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 a calculation in her voice. Meanwhile, I still lived in the house my late husband had begun to buildunfinished, with gaps in the walls, icy in winter, my pension barely covering the heating. Then Marine suggested, Sell your house, buy a studio for yourself, and give us the rest so we can get a new apartment. Then well think about kids.
Do you see what that means? She wants an elderly, frail woman to give up her home while they take the best of everything. Perhaps theyd even push me into a nursing home. At first I thought about agreeingif they merely helped me with a monthly allowance. Now? Absolutely not! With someone like Marine, you must stay on guard; you can expect any trick.
After that conversation Alexandre visited me several times, subtly implying his idea wasnt so bad: Why do you need a big house? It would be easier to live in a flat with lower charges. I held my ground: The city is expanding; in five to ten years property values will rise. My land is no longer on the outskirts, selling now would be foolish. One day I proposed a swap: they would move into my house, and I would live in their studio. It seemed a fair exchange, didnt it? Marine refused. She disliked the notion of a house that required repairs and investment while she could live carefree in a gifted flat. She craved comfort, even when my offer was more advantageous. Thats just how she is, and theres nothing I can do about it.
Soon I fell seriously ill, my bones aching, bedridden with fever, cough, and excruciating headaches. I called Alexandre, pleading for him to bring supplies and medicine. I knew the young couple were busy, but I lacked the strength even to boil water. I never imagined he would abandon me. He finally arrived the next day, handed me a makeshift Fervex powder, left an unwrapped, probably expired box of aspirin on the table, shrugged, and left. Fortunately a friend came to my rescue, bringing soup, proper medication, everything I needed. Had she not been there, what would have become of me?
My son had been my light and my support all my life. I trusted him blindlyhe was more than a child, a friend, a part of myself. The marriage erased that bond. We are now strangers, and I feel powerless to change it. He remains my only child, my love, my pride, yet his heart now belongs elsewhere. Marine positioned herself between us like a wall, leaving me on the other sidealone, abandoned, useless. Reason tells me the tie is broken; he must choose between his mother and his wife, and the answer is obvious. Still, my heart clings to the hope that he will remember what I have been to him, that he will return. Each day, however, that hope melts away like snow under an unfamiliar sun.
My Son Was My Friend and Support Throughout My Life, but After His Wedding, We Became Strangers.
