When I arrived at the location, I was already shaking—I was sixty-eight years old, wearing the most exquisite navy gown I could purchase, and I was acutely conscious that it still didn’t belong among the glitzy luxury and designer gowns. I knew what was going to happen when the wedding coordinator smiled at me with that tight, courteous smile people save for household tasks.
Mrs. Patterson? This route.
rear row. Row 12. Take seat fifteen. behind the photographers. behind the employees. As though I had just wandered in as a stranger.
Every pair of eyes stared at me as I walked down the aisle, and whispers scraped my back like static. Someone mentioned that’s Brandon’s mother. She was a home cleaner once. The brutality still hurt, even though it wasn’t real. For thirty-seven years, I taught English, covering everything from Shakespeare to Steinbeck. However, the story in which I was an embarrassment that she had to conceal was the one that my son’s fiancée favored.
That morning in the wedding room, Vivien had addressed me. We will be embarrassed by your poverty. Don’t call attention to yourself, please. She didn’t even try to hide her disdain. Brandon remained silent. Simply turn your head away.
I so sat in my lonely metal chair and looked at my son, whom I had raised by myself, who tutored children on the weekends to help pay for his college applications, and who I had supported at every turn. I married into a family that determined I didn’t belong and am now a trial lawyer in a tailored tux.
Then I was seated next to someone.
His spotless suit, silver hair, and commanding demeanor made him seem like he belonged at the head table. He put his hand on mine as if we had known each other for ages.
“Pretend to be with me,” he whispered.
Suddenly, the whispers were different. curiosity. Show respect. bewilderment. Who is he? What is the relationship between them?
Mid-vow, my son looked over and turned pale. Vivien froze as she followed his gaze. It seems that I only looked foolish when I was by myself.
The stranger stood and extended his arm as the ceremony came to a close. “Elanor, should we?”
He was familiar with my name.
At last, he told me outside in the peace of the estate gardens. “Theodore Blackwood,” he murmured. “But you called me Theo once.”
In a single breath, fifty years suddenly came to an end.
Theo. At eighteen, I fell in love with the boy. The person who had departed for London, sent unanswered letters, and made calls I never received. The one I believed had deserted me. The one my mother had subtly removed from my life because she detested the fact that he was wealthy.
He had searched for me. employed private investigators. went back to Denver twice. I had already married Robert and was expecting Brandon when he discovered me once more.
He said to me, “I didn’t want to disturb your life.” “But my curiosity never went away.”
Brandon and Vivien stormed up, their tight smiles stretched thin with terror, before I could understand any of that.
“Mother, we must speak. Who is this man?
With the cool assurance of a man who clearly owned the ground beneath his feet, Theo introduced himself. Theo simply smiled and asked his chauffeur to bring over a portfolio when Vivien made the error of threatening to “involve security.”
Inside: legal paperwork, architectural blueprints, everything.
“Blackwood Tower,” he murmured. “Starting construction next month.” on the property where the office building of your father is located.
Vivien almost fell apart.
He explained that he had purchased the property months earlier, long before he was aware that it was related to her. Now that he did, though? Depending on “reasons,” the conditions of the lease were “flexible.”
At last, my son realized that he was not in charge of this discussion. Not even near.
At last, I said something. “I accepted Vivien’s statement this morning that my poverty humiliated her. I also accepted being seated in the rear row. However, your immediate concern now that a significant other is listening reveals my exact position.
Brandon stammered out an explanation, but I had been swallowing pain for years. Not right now.
I whispered, “I raised you.” “I put everything I had into you. You also made me feel like a bother. I’ve finished downsizing to make you feel at ease.
I then grabbed Theo’s arm. “Have fun at your reception.”
Without turning around, we left.
Theo led me to a peaceful restaurant with a view of the city for dinner. He recalled every detail, including my favorite dish, how I would snatch olives from his plate, and how I would furrow my brow when focused. It had been decades since anyone had examined me so intently.
He told me his story over wine. The empire of commerce. The journey. The hollow triumph. The residual regret.
He remarked, “I never married because no one ever measured up to you.” Not a drama. Don’t be theatrical. Just the facts.
Brandon kept calling and texting me to ask if I understood Theo’s wealth and if I could “set up a meeting.” My phone was buzzing constantly. Vivien’s effort at an apologetic dinner invitation came next. transparent. In a desperate situation.
Ignoring it, I concentrated on the man who was actually looking at me.
My son made a significant retreat in the months that followed. therapy. Sorry. check-ins every week. Real effort. If it sticks, only time will tell.
I rebuilt something ancient and something completely new with Theo. Hours-long conversations. strolls through museums. Italy. Finally, we could breathe in a villa with a view of the Tuscan hills, free from attempts to confine or denigrate me.
The world appears different from this vantage point.
Now, out of respect rather than panic, my son calls. He is gaining knowledge. expanding. Attempting. I will also meet him halfway, but not completely. No more.
Because I am aware of my own value for the first time in my life. I don’t require his approval. I don’t require anyone’s.
All I had to do was quit apologizing for even existing.
Additionally, keep in mind that those who ignore you will eventually find themselves in a bind when someone else sees what they missed.
They were unable to ignore the mother they had concealed.
Not because I’ve changed.
However, I stopped shrinking at last.