“Let her live alone for a while—maybe she’ll realize what she’s lost. And don’t you worry, son, Mum won’t let anyone push you around…”
“So, Pamela, your Simon’s left his wife, hasn’t he?”
“He has. And what of it? You planning to gossip about it all over the neighborhood?” Pam shot back, adjusting the scarf on her silver-streaked hair.
Simon and Emily had been married just over three years. Not long ago, they’d welcomed a baby girl—the granddaughter Pamela had dreamed of for years. But trouble was, Simon had always been a mother’s boy. Dreamy, a bit childish, spoiled by her endless coddling and forgiveness.
“What do I need a wife for?” he’d said years ago. “Just another nagging voice, climbing onto my back, demanding this and that.”
Pam had waved it off—so long as he was home, under her roof, what did it matter? He drifted from one odd job to another, but that was fine by her. At least he was close. Who cared if he was pushing thirty? He was still her boy.
Then one day, out of nowhere, he announced: “I’m getting married.” He brought home Emily—quiet, unassuming, her eyes full of hope but little confidence. Pam approved. Not some flighty girl, but a sensible one, good with her hands. She even bought them a small cottage in a nearby village to start their life.
At first, it seemed fine. But Simon was hopeless at being a husband. He took whatever work he could—security guard, odd jobs—then ended up as a cemetery caretaker. “At least there, no one bosses me around.”
“I can’t take it, Mum—she’s driving me mad!” he’d whinge to Pamela. “First it’s the job, then the money’s not enough, now she wants a new bathroom!”
“Oh, Simon,” Pam would sigh, shaking her head. “You’ve landed yourself a right one, haven’t you? Not a wife, a leech. Stay here awhile, let her see what it’s like on her own.”
From then on, Simon drifted between the two—back to Emily, then home to Mum. Each return was met with fresh complaints. And Emily, that once-quiet girl, began snapping, shouting, crying. Until finally, one stormy night, Simon slammed the door and walked out.
“She’s worn me down!” he declared, flopping into a chair at Pam’s kitchen table. “She had the nerve to say I’m not a real man if I can’t provide! Fine—let her feed herself and pile nappies on the baby. I owe her nothing!”
“That’s it, love,” Pam murmured. “Who does she think she is? Come on, have some stew—just how you like it.”
He spoke of his daughter less and less. “What’s the fuss? Feed her, put her to bed, take her out. Can’t be that hard.” Meanwhile, Emily moved back with her parents. Pam wasted no time in sneering:
“Couldn’t hack it, could you? We gave you a home, a husband—never good enough. Should’ve toughed it out, like we did!”
The neighbors whispered. “Simon’s got a daughter growing up without him, and there he sits, telly on, not a care in the world.”
“Pam, you ought to at least see your granddaughter,” one neighbor ventured. “Emily’s managing alone, her parents helping, while you act like they don’t exist.”
“Don’t listen to her drivel!” Pam scoffed. “If she couldn’t keep a man, that’s her problem. And that baby—I’ll claim her. She’s my blood!”
“You serious? Take a child from her mother? And Simon? He can’t even hold a job, just lounges about!”
“Don’t you dare! He’s just… taking a breather. He’ll pull himself together.”
But years passed, and Simon stayed as he was—no work, no plans. Just gripes about “nagging women” and the world owing him.
“Simon, love, maybe visit Emily, see your girl…” Pam finally suggested, hesitant.
“What for, Mum? So she can start again—’useless, broke, not a proper man’? I’m done. I live for me now!”
And then, it hit her. Deep, like a knife to the heart.
“Enough,” she said one evening, voice steady. “I’m ashamed of what you’ve become. If Emily files for child support, you’ll handle it alone. No more covering for you. You’re not a boy anymore.”
Too late. Far too late. She’d raised not a man, but a sulking child, forever wronged by life. Emily, meanwhile, remarried—a steady, kind man who loved her daughter as his own. And Simon? He stayed with Mum. No family, no purpose, no will to change.
A mother’s love knows no bounds. But sometimes, it blinds.
And if you don’t tear the blindfold away in time, you might wake one day beside a stranger—a lazy, bitter grown-up who thinks the world owes him everything.
