My son vanished 13 years ago, leaving me alone with crushing debt and a chronic illness. Last night, he reappeared on my doorstep with a smile and two suitcases, but as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
I woke up that morning like any other, my joints aching as I dragged myself out of bed. The house was quiet, too quiet. I shuffled to Daniel’s room, hoping he’d finally come home after our argument last night.
The door creaked open, revealing an empty bed and a folded piece of paper on the pillow.
My hands shook as I unfolded it. “Mom, I’m leaving. Don’t try to find me. I’m not coming back.” The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. How could he do this? How could my 18-year-old son just abandon me?
I sank onto his bed, clutching the note to my chest. Robert had only been gone for six months, and now Daniel was gone too. The silence in the house was deafening.
Dr. Chen’s words from the previous week’s appointment echoed in my mind. “Evelyn, the test results aren’t good. You’ll need ongoing treatment, which won’t be cheap.”
I’d been working two jobs since Robert died, trying to keep up with the mountain of debt he’d left behind. Now, with Daniel gone and my illness to manage, I felt completely overwhelmed.
The funeral played back in my mind. Daniel standing beside me, his face a mask of teenage indifference as they lowered Robert’s casket to the ground. I remembered the hushed whispers of relatives.
“Poor Evelyn, left all alone with a teenager.”
“I heard Robert didn’t leave much behind.”
“How will she manage?”
I didn’t have answers then, and I don’t have them now. But I knew I had to keep going, for Daniel’s sake. Little did I know he’d be gone before the week was out.
The next few days were a blur. I called Daniel’s friends, his school, and even the local police. No one had seen him. It was like he’d vanished into thin air.
“Ma’am,” a police officer said gently, “He’s 18. Legally an adult. If he doesn’t want to be found, there’s not much we can do.”
I nodded numbly, thanked him, and hung up. The reality of my situation started to sink in. I was alone, sick, and drowning in debt.
That night, I sat at the kitchen table, bills spread out before me. Medical expenses, mortgage payments, credit card statements – the numbers swam before my eyes. How had Robert let things get this bad?
“Oh, Robert,” I whispered to the empty room. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have faced this together.”
But Robert was gone, and so was Daniel. It was up to me now.
The next morning, I called Dr. Chen’s office.
“Evelyn,” she said when she got on the line. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m… managing,” I replied. “But I need to know more about this treatment. How often? How much?”
Dr. Chen sighed. “It’s not going to be easy, Evelyn. We’re looking at weekly treatments, at least for the first few months. As for the cost…”
The number she quoted made my stomach lurch. But I steeled myself. “I’ll figure it out, Dr. Chen. I have to.”
“Evelyn,” her voice softened, “There are support groups and financial assistance programs. Let me give you some information.”
I jotted down the details, thanked her, and hung up. Then I picked up the phone again and called my boss at the diner.
“Hey, Evelyn,” Jerry answered. “Everything okay?”
“Jerry, I need more hours,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “As many as you can give me.”
There was a pause. “Evelyn, you’re already working six days a week. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Jerry. I need the money.”
Another pause. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”
And so began my new life. Up at 5 a.m., at the diner by 6. Work till 2, then over to the office for my second job, filing and answering phones till 8 p.m. Home, quick dinner, collapse into bed. Repeat.
Weekends were for treatments and catching up on housework. There was no time for friends, no energy for hobbies. Just work, treatment, sleep.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. I kept working, kept paying off debts, kept going to treatments. Daniel’s room remained untouched, a shrine to my hope that he’d return.
Dr. Chen became more than just my doctor. She was often the only person I talked to about anything beyond work or bills.
“Evelyn,” she said during one of our appointments, “You’re making progress, but you need to take care of yourself. All this stress isn’t good for your condition.”
I managed a weak smile. “I’m doing the best I can, Dr. Chen.”
She looked at me over her glasses. “Have you thought about reaching out to support groups? It might help to talk to others in similar situations.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have time for that. There’s always another shift to pick up, another bill to pay.”
Dr. Chen sighed and gave me a weak smile, but didn’t push. She knew how stubborn I could be.
As the years passed, I slowly started to climb out of the financial hole. The debts began to shrink, and the constant fear of bankruptcy receded. But the emptiness remained.
Every birthday, every Christmas, I’d find myself staring at the phone, willing it to ring. Willing it to be Daniel. But it never was.
I tried dating a few times, but it never felt right. How could I explain my life to someone new? How could I open up when I’d been let down so many times?
***
Thirteen years passed in a blur of exhaustion and loneliness. Then, one evening, there was a knock at the door.
I opened it, and there he was. Daniel, now 31, standing on my porch with two suitcases and a hesitant smile. “Mom, hi. I want to come home.”
My mind reeled. I wanted to slam the door in his face, to scream at him for abandoning me. Instead, I found myself stepping aside, letting him in.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Daniel said, his voice cracking. He dropped to his knees in the living room. “I had… problems. Serious ones. I didn’t want to drag you into them.”
I stood there, arms crossed. “What kind of problems?”
Daniel looked up at me, his eyes brimming with tears. “I got mixed up with some bad people. Drugs, gambling… I was in way over my head. I thought leaving would protect you.”
My anger softened, just a little. “You could have told me. We could have faced it together.”
“I know that now,” he said, hanging his head. “I was young and stupid. Can you ever forgive me?”
I sighed, feeling the heaviness of thirteen years of loneliness and hurt. “I… I need time, Daniel. But you can stay for now.”
We ate dinner together, the silence broken only by the clink of forks on plates. I couldn’t help but notice how much he’d changed. The lanky teenager was gone, replaced by a man with broad shoulders and tired eyes.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence. “What have you been doing all these years?”
Daniel pushed his food around his plate. “It’s a long story, Mom. I’ve been… all over. Trying to sort myself out.”
“And have you?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. “Sorted yourself out?”
He nodded. “I think so. I’m clean now. Have been for a while. I’ve got a job lined up in the city. I just… I needed to see you first. To apologize.”
I wanted to believe him. God, how I wanted to believe him. But thirteen years of disappointment and loneliness had taught me to be cautious.
“That’s… good, Daniel. I’m glad you’re doing better.”
As I showed him to his old room, Daniel whispered, “I missed you every day, Mom.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. As I closed my bedroom door, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe we could rebuild our relationship.
That hope shattered at 2 a.m. when I woke to strange noises. I crept down the hallway, my bare feet silent on the cold floor.
There was Daniel, illuminated by moonlight, rifling through the closet where I kept my savings. The money I’d scrimped and saved for years, working through illness and exhaustion.
“What are you doing?” My voice was barely a whisper, but Daniel jumped like he’d been shot.
He spun around, a wad of cash in his hand. “Mom! I… I can explain!”
“Get out.” The words were ice cold. “Get out now, or I’m calling the police.”
Daniel’s face crumpled. For a moment, I saw the little boy he used to be. Then his expression hardened. Without a word, he grabbed his bags, which still stood beside the front door, and left.
As the door slammed behind him, I sank to the floor. Tears streamed down my face, but I felt a strange sense of peace. I’d survived thirteen years without him. I’d survived Robert’s death, crippling debt, and a chronic illness.
I could survive this too. As dawn broke, I made a decision. It was time to focus on myself, to build a life filled with people who truly cared. Daniel had made his choice. Now, it was time to make mine.
I picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Chen’s number. When her answering service picked up, I left a message.
“Dr. Chen, it’s Evelyn. I think I’m ready for that support group you mentioned. And… I think I might need to talk to someone. A therapist, maybe. Call me back when you can.”
What would you have done?
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