Youve achieved nothing, he kept telling me, oblivious that his new boss was my son from my former marriage.
Give me the shirt! A white one! Cant you see what I need?
Rodericks voice cut through the quiet of the kitchen like a razor.
He stood in the middle of the room, tugging fiercely at the knot of his finest silk tie, his stare fixed on me as if I were nothing more than a mindless servant.
Today theyre unveiling the new managing director. I have to look the part of a million-pound man.
Without a word I handed him a hanger bearing a perfectly pressed white shirt. He snatched it up as if Id stolen his precious time. Roderick was on edge, his temper a simmering brew of bile and passive aggression.
He vented his anger on me, the only person in his world he believed would never push back.
This new kid is a flash in the pan. A lad already a managing director. They say his surname is Hawthorne.
My fingers froze on the handle of the coffee pot. Hawthornemy first husbands surname. My sons surname.
Youll never understand, Roderick snapped, staring at his own reflection in the mirrored wardrobe doors. Youre just a housewife, stuck in your cosy little swamp. Youve never wanted anything more.
He smoothed his tie, a smug curl of his lip aimed not at me but at the successful man he saw in the glass, the one hed been polishing for years.
And then I was taken back to another morning, years ago.
I, swollen with tears, cradling baby James in my arms, while my first husband Stanley mumbled helplessly that he had nothing to offer and couldnt support us.
In that cramped rented flat with a leaky tap, I swore my son would have everything.
I juggled two, sometimes three jobs. When James was at nursery, then at school, I fell asleep over his notebooks, later over university lecture notes. I sold my late mothers flat so he could take that coveted internship in Londons Tech City.
He was my flagship project, my most valuable startup.
They say hes the son of a penniless engineer, Roderick continued, savoring the detail like a gourmand. From the mud to the manor. Those are usually the most bitter.
He recalled a corporate party where, halfdrunk, he publicly humiliated my exhusband.
Stanley had arrived at the firm with a proposal. Roderick called him a dreamer with empty pockets and laughed loudly.
Those moments fed his swollen ego.
Pass me the shoe brush and the polish. Quickly. I fetched everything he asked for, my hands steady, a deep silence inside me.
Roderick didnt realise his new boss wasnt just some Hawthorne. He had no clue that this lad was the cofounder of a tech firm his holding company had just bought for a fortune, making him the divisions chief executive. Nor that this flash remembered the woman who made his mother weep into her pillow.
He left, slamming the door in his usual dramatic fashion.
I stayed alone, walked to the window and watched his car pull away.
That day Roderick thought he was heading to the most important meeting of his life, unaware he was walking straight to his own downfall.
Later, the front door burst open as if kicked down. Roderick stormed into the hallway, his face flushed, his tie dangling like a loose shoelace hed just freed.
I hate this! he snarled, flinging his briefcase into a corner. Can you believe this brat thinks he can pull the strings?
I stepped out of the kitchen, watching him pace like a tiger in a cage.
He talked to me as if I were a fresh graduate on placement! With the head of a key department! He dissected my quarterly report point by point, every figure! He even asked if Id bought a diploma on the black market!
In his words I heard not humiliation but a ruthless professionalism. That was my son, James. He always drilled down to the details, never letting anything slip by.
Do you know what he said at the end? Roderick halted in front of me, panic flickering in his eyes. Mr. Roderick, Im genuinely surprised youre still in this role with those numbers. I hope its a simple misunderstanding and you wont disappoint me further. A threat! Directed at me!
He expected sympathy, advice, support. I stayed silent, watching the broken, angry man, feeling nothing at all.
Why are you silent? he exploded. Do you not care? Does it matter that the man who feeds, clothes, and provides for you tramples you into the mud?
Then a brilliant idea, born of pure fear, lit his eyes.
I know what to do! Ill fix everything. Ill prove to Hawthorne Im not just a cog. Ill invite him to dinner. At our place.
I met his gaze.
Fine, I said calmly, and he didnt see the trap. Ill arrange the dinner.
The doorbell rang precisely at seven. Roderick, who had been pacing for half an hour, leapt to the entryway, his face frozen in a forced smile.
I followed, prepared his favourite dishes, crafting the illusion of the perfect picture he coveteda perfect snare.
The door opened, and there stood James, tall in a crisp suit, looking older than his twentysix years. His gaze was steady and confident. He extended his hand to Roderick.
James Hawthorne. Thank you for the invitation.
Roderick shook it vigorously, his grip firmer than his own.
Roderick Whitaker! Delighted! Make yourself at home!
James stepped inside and immediately fixed his eyes on me. He didnt smile, just staredlong, serious. In that look lay the whole of our shared past.
This is my wife, Evelyn, Roderick announced. My rock, my hope.
Were acquainted, James replied flatly, never breaking his gaze.
Rodericks smile faltered.
Acquainted? From where?
All evening Roderick tried to reclaim control, boasting of his successes, tossing out illtimed jokes. James listened politely but detached. The atmosphere at the table grew thick, sticky like resin. Roderick downed glass after glass of wine, feeling his plan crumble.
Then he aimed his next blow at the most vulnerable pointme.
James Hawthorne, youre so young yet already at the top. Thats because you have the right bearings. As for my Evelyn shes had no luck.
James set his fork down carefully.
Her first husband was lets say a dreamer, Roderick sneered. An engineer with not a penny in his pocket. He lived on fantasies and couldt feed a family. So Evelyn found happiness with me, because she achieved nothing on her own.
That was the same line, the final straw, spoken in front of my sonthe son of that very engineerdreamer.
Enough.
I lifted my head.
Youre right, Roderick. I truly have achieved nothing. No career, no millions.
I paused, watching his expression shift.
I had only one project. One single one. My son.
I turned to James.
I poured everything into himmy whole life, every ounce of strength, every ounce of beliefso he could grow and never let people like you trample himself or his loved ones.
I looked back at him. His face stretched, animal fear flashing in his eyes as realization finally seeped in.
So meet him, Roderick. This is James Hawthorne. Son of that very engineerdreamer. My most successful project.
The air could have been cut with a knife. Rodericks smug grin melted away.
James rose.
Mr. Whitaker, thank you for the dinner. It was enlightening.
My own father truly was a dreamer. He imagined a world where professionalism trumped brownnosing. A shame your department has no room for that.
Mr. Hawthorne I didnt know This is a misunderstanding! Roderick stammered.
Your incompetence as a manager is a fact. So is your years of belittling my mother. I expect my resignation letter on my desk by nine tomorrow. Dont force me to audit your projects. Youll find something there.
Roderick slumped, looking at me with a pleading glance.
I stood as well.
Go, Roderick.
My go was quiet, without shout or hatredjust a period.
He croaked, trying to justify himself.
Evelyn you cant this house
The only thing you gave me was this house. And now its mine, I replied evenly. Pack your things. Anything that fits in one suitcase.
At last he understood. The game was over.
He turned and left. The sound of the closing door was a full stop at the end of a fartoolong sentence.
I remained in the living room. James stepped forward and took my hand.
Mum, how are you?
I looked at himmy greatest achievement.
Now everythings alright.
Did I achieve nothing? Perhaps. I never became a CEO or amassed a fortune. I simply raised a man. And that proved enough to reclaim my life.
Six months later, the first thing I did after he moved out was remodel. I tore down heavy wallpapers, removed the bulky furniture that shouted status. The house stopped being a showcase of someone elses success and became my own.
I opened a small flower shop with a workshop. Id always loved plants, though Roderick dismissed it as a hobby for simple folk. Turns out my hobby could bring both joy and a modest income.
Its Saturday. James drops by.
Dad called, he says. He sent his regards. Hes just landed a massive grant for his waterpurification system. Hes heading to Cambridges innovation hub. He said you were rightdreaming does help.
I smile. Weve long forgiven each others old wounds.
And you know what I thought? James looks serious. That Roderick was right about something.
I raise an eyebrow.
You didnt achieve anything, by his standards. But you did far more. You kept yourself, you raised me. Thats not a project, Mum. Thats life. And youve lived it well.
I stare at my grown son, his eyes free of childhood hurt, only calm strength.
What will you do now? he asks.
Ive signed up for language classes, I reply, surprised at how easy the sentence sounds.
He nods, and the warmth and pride in his gaze tell me I need nothing else.
Did I achieve nothing? Maybe. I simply began to livefor myself. And that is the greatest achievement of all.
