Twelve Years Later
Please, Im begging you help me find my son! Theres nothing else in this world I care about!
Elizabeth almost burst into tears as she pleaded her case. She perched herself on the sofa next to the host of the show, wringing her hands in a display of anguish. Shed deliberately chosen modest clothes and had stayed up the whole night before to appear drawn and pale. Elizabeths goal was simple: to come across as a heartbroken mother so that viewers would rally around her.
My biggest dream right now is just to reconnect with my son, she said quietly, her voice trembling as if every word was an effort. Ive tried everything I can think of! I even went to the police, hoping theyd help, but they wouldnt even take a report. They told me Jack was already an adult and had left a long time ago. They basically said, Well, if you didnt care about your son before, why are you here now?
The host listened carefully, tilting his head just so, though in truth he wasnt buying a word of it. He reckoned the truth was far more ordinary than Elizabeth let on. Shed fallen out with her son, hadnt wanted to hear about him for years, and now here she was, suddenly desperate. If he was honest, he sided with the police. But, well… these sorts of stories always pulled in viewers, didnt they?
So, you lost touch with your son because of a falling-out? the host asked gently, glancing at the audience. Some looked sceptical, others genuinely upset for the poor mother.
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes shining once more with tears. She took in a long breath, steadying herself to go on.
Yes, it all began twelve years ago. Jack fell in love. Truly, hopelessly. He was determined to marry her. I understood his feelings, but I couldnt stand that girl! I could see disaster coming from a mile away. She smoked, she drank, shed disappear for evenings on end at pubs and who-knows-where. And worst of all, she dragged my Jack into it too!
She fell silent, as if reliving those difficult days. The host gave her time, not wanting to rush what was clearly a very raw story at least, thats how it needed to look.
I tried to warn him, to tell him it was a bad path, but he wouldnt listen. To him I was just his overbearing mother, not wanting to let go. Then one night well, things escalated. He slammed his fist on the table and declared, Im moving out!
Elizabeth stifled a sob, and the host quickly handed her a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup, before continuing:
He left. Packed up all his things while I was out at work, just vanished no note, no explanation. Changed his phone number, cut ties with friends, with family… everyone! And all that over some girl
Her voice faltered and she pressed her eyes shut for a moment, like she was stopping herself from becoming overwhelmed.
Sorry, its just hard to keep it together, she whispered, twisting the tissue in her hands.
Elizabeth let her hair fall forward, half covering her face. Shed practised this little moment in the mirror everything calculated to ensure people really felt her sorrow. The producers had said this was the time to let the tears fall, to lay her heart bare, to show just how deep her pain went. The truth was, she didnt really feel even a handful of the grief she put on display. Mostly, she was just tense, wondering if her acting would pay off with the audience.
The host could tell she wasnt actually crying, but he went with it anyway.
We do understand how painful this must be, he said, and with a gentle wave gestured for an assistant to bring over a glass of water. Take your time, share what you can when youre ready.
He let a long pause fill the room, just enough to draw out the drama without losing momentum.
What do you actually know about your son now? he finally asked, leaning forward to show his interest.
Elizabeth looked up, her expression expertly mixing desperation and a sliver of hope.
Recently, a friend saw him in London, she said shakily, her voice vibrating with either nerves or carefully summoned emotion. They said hed even changed his surname! How on earth am I supposed to find him now? Ive tried everything, but I cant do this by myself. Please, perhaps someone has seen him?
She looked directly into the camera, her face holding the exact anguished expression shed practised. Her gaze seemed to plead through the screen, begging viewers to feel her pain.
Not long ago I ended up in hospital, she went on, and for a moment her anxiety sounded truly genuine. It made me realise time is running out, and who knows how long I have left? I just want to see my son, to hug him, to tell him Ive forgiven everything, and ask if he could forgive me, too
The screen filled with a photo of a young man, maybe about twenty, with light hair, grey-blue eyes, and a tall build. Handsome, if a little ordinary one of those faces you could easily pass in the street without a second glance. For a moment, Elizabeth studied the picture. Jack must have changed by now maybe he had a beard, or a different haircut, or wore glasses, or gained a bit of weight. Thinking about how much hed probably changed only made her more certain she might never find him. The odds seemed slim, almost nonexistent, but Elizabeth refused to give up.
If anyones seen a young man who looks like this, please get in touch with our studio, the host said in a calm, measured voice. The numbers at the bottom of your screen.
Once filming was done, Elizabeth bid farewell to the crew and made her way slowly to the exit. She didnt stop playing the part best to keep up appearances right to the end.
Outside, she turned slightly towards her friend the very one whod pushed her to go on the show. Elizabeths lips curled into a restrained but unmistakably smug smile.
So, how did I do? she murmured, her voice low but edged with satisfaction. Do you think I got the sympathy vote?
Tammy, whod been watching the audience like a hawk, nodded knowingly. People were welling up all over the place, she whispered with a sly grin. Youll have Jacks address soon, you mark my words. Then you can ask him to pay you back for all that time and money you spent raising him. Hes clearly doing just fine, driving around in fancy cars and dining at posh restaurants, and here you are, not a penny richer.
Elizabeth grimaced. She didnt love the brashness of her friends tone a bit too blunt, a bit too cynical. But she couldnt deny Tammy was right in one respect.
For years, shed barely thought about Jack. If memories of him appeared at all, theyd vanish just as quickly, not really hurting or leaving her longing. That all changed when Tammy ran into an old mate whod seen Jack in London. From him, Elizabeth heard tales of just how much Jacks life had changed.
He owned a stunning car the sort youd expect to see at a motor show. He wore designer suits that cost tens of thousands of pounds. He had a tailor-made watch with an intricate, engraved mechanism the kind you cant just pick up at the shop. And when hed stepped out of one of Londons most exclusive restaurants, it was clear: Jack wasnt just making good money; he was living extravagantly. The bills at that sort of place often topped several hundred pounds a head.
Elizabeth didnt pretend she was really curious about her sons happiness. No, she was thinking of something else entirely the money he owed her. After all, she was his mother! Shed given him life! Surely she deserved something in return.
Its fine, theyll find him soon, she told herself and Tammy. I just have to wait a little longer, and then Ill be set.
After all, she thought, he wouldnt dare turn her away. From what she could tell, Jack was moving in quite posh circles now, and people like that couldnt risk a scandal! No, when the story went public, hed have to play the doting son for the press and the cameras. With this much public attention, he wouldnt have any other option!
Naive She had no idea the trap she was falling into, one her own son had quietly laid
**************************
Twelve Years Ago.
Jack got home at nine in the evening, exhausted to his bones after a full day. Hed just sat his toughest final exam, and his eyes ached from days of studying. All he wanted was to collapse face-down on his bed and sleep till sunrise. But he knew that was a fantasy he wasnt going to get a break tonight.
As he reached the front door, he could hear raised voices inside. A mans voice sharp, impatient, and annoyed. His mums voice softer, apologetic, making excuses. Him again, he thought. Jack gritted his teeth. It was as though the man knew exactly when Jack would be home and made sure he was there to stir up trouble.
Jack stuck his key in the lock and opened the door, hoping he might just slip through unseen and shut himself in his room to put off any arguments for tomorrow. But as soon as he crossed the threshold, he nearly tripped over several large bags set down by the entrance.
Jack stared at the bags. What was going on? Why were his suitcases here? His heart dropped this didnt feel right.
Whats this? he called out, struggling to keep his voice steady. My stuff? Who put it here? Whats happening?
He was louder than he meant, the stress of the day leaking through. He dropped his book bag on the floor and folded his arms, waiting for an answer. There was silence for a moment, then his mum appeared in the hall.
The sight of him seemed to annoy Elizabeth even more. She wrinkled her nose, let out a huff, and turned away to disappear into the kitchen. Jack stood frozen, confused. This wasnt normal family tension; he could tell something was off.
He kicked off his shoes and marched to the kitchen following the quiet voices. The door was slightly open, and Jack saw the familiar and unwelcome sight. The man at the table: Anthony. Sitting there as if it were his home, one hand slung over the back of a chair, the other cradling a mug of tea. Anthony flicked his gaze to Jack, then back to Elizabeth as if nothing had happened.
Jack stepped further in, his irritation spiking.
Whats he doing here? Jack demanded at his mother.
Havent you told him yet? Anthony scoffed, twirling his phone between his fingers. What are you waiting for?
Dont talk about me like Im not here, Jack snapped. I have a right to be in this house, unlike you! Who even are you, and why are you hauling your kid in here?
He had more to say but his mum cut him off, her voice cold and emotionless, no hint of embarrassment or doubt.
From today, youre not living here anymore. Your room is now going to Anthonys son.
Jack stared, dumbfounded. He searched her face for even a flicker of kindness, for this somehow to be a tasteless joke. But Elizabeth braced herself tall, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes unfeeling. Anthony nodded a little as if the decision was trivial, sipping his tea calmly as ever.
Wait. On what grounds are you kicking me out? Jacks voice wavered, but he tried to be firm.
He felt gut-punched. Sure, he knew his presence at home complicated things for his mum, but to be thrown out so suddenly, without even a chat? It felt beyond cruel almost evil.
Dad was going to leave the flat to me he pleaded, trying to grab hold of anything at all in this nightmare scenario.
Elizabeth crossed her arms and raised her chin slightly. For a moment, her face took on a mockingly sorrowful look, but Jack could tell it was fake.
He was going to, but he died before he could change the will. The current will, drafted before you were born, means Im the sole owner of this flat. That means I get to decide who lives here. Starting today, youre not allowed back. Stop clinging to your mother’s apron strings. Arent you the least bit embarrassed?
Each sentence hit like a slap. Jack could only feel injustice rising, but he reined in his need to shout. He was being cast out from his childhood home a place where every creak of the floorboards and every mark on the wall was familiar.
His eye started to twitch a nervous tic he got when stressed out. Thoughts whirred chaotically in his head. Was his fathers crash really an accident? Was there more to it? Was this all a set-up to keep the flat in his mums tight grip?
He glanced at Anthony, who continued to drink his tea. He didnt even try to intervene; it was as if it was none of his concern. That made everything feel worse.
Are you serious? Jack pleaded with his mum, desperate for any sign of hesitation. Youre really going to chuck your own son out?
Elizabeth just shrugged, as if it was as minor as changing the curtains.
Ive already packed your things. From now on, someone else will be living here. And dont even think about coming back without asking first.
You must be joking. Where am I supposed to sleep tonight? Jack asked, his tone quiet but the betrayal clear in his eyes.
He still hoped this was some twisted prank, that in a moment his mum would burst out laughing and say, Alright, thats enough I just wanted to see your reaction. But there was nothing gentle in her just icy finality.
He wanted to shout, to grab Anthony by the collar and scream, Who do you think you are to take over my life? But instead, Jack clenched his fists, breathed deeply, and stayed put.
Youll be fine, Elizabeth replied breezily, as if they were discussing forgotten shopping lists. Youve got plenty of mates one of them will take you in. Youre on your own from now.
She said it so casually, as if cutting her own son off was the same as lending out a book. Jack could only clench his jaw at the injustice, determined not to show how much it hurt.
And another thing, Elizabeth added, lifting her chin higher, I took the money for your last year at university. Youll have to earn it yourself. I need it more the weddings coming up.
That last line hit him harder than he expected. For a second, Jack was speechless. It became perfectly clear: she was fully prepared to erase him from her life. Not just kick him out, but strip away financial support and close off all the easier paths to adulthood.
But Jack wouldnt beg. Not now, not ever. A plan was already forming: hed take a year out, get a job, work for what he needed, and pay his way without her. He had his hands, his mind, and his will. That was enough.
Jack gave a small nod, taking on the challenge, glancing once more at his mum to search for any flicker of warmth. He found nothing but iron resolve. In that moment, he knew there was no going back. The trust between them, whatever there had once been, was destroyed for good.
He knew he could never forgive his mother.
**************************
Have you seen this? Nick asked eagerly, leaning over the table towards Jack, phone out and screen pointed at him. My mate back home sent it. The programme just aired.
Jack slowly looked up from the folder of documents hed been studying. His grip loosened; the folder fluttered to the table. There was no way hed get any work done now. All he felt was a strange kind of satisfaction with a bitter edge.
I saw, he replied with a smirk. Turns out Tammys husband didnt keep our meeting to himself. But thats fine thats actually what I wanted. Let Mum see what she gave up.
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his cropped hair, replaying the scenes from the TV show his mother with her perfectly calibrated look of suffering, talking about her lost son. All those years ago, shed coolly thrown him out, taken his money, cut herself out of his life. Now, seeing him successful, she was suddenly desperate to play the loving mother for an audience.
Jack had had his revenge not through any shouting match or public row, but by showing, quietly but undeniably, what shed lost. Hed built a life for himself, stable and prosperous. He had a career, connections, a new life and doors open to him all without her, without her blessing or approval.
Now she knew just how well he was doing. Shed surely realised: had she behaved differently, she might have received help and love from him. If she’d put her son first, if she hadn’t kicked him out or stolen his tuition money.
But soon shed find out the truth she would get nothing. No money, no comfort, not even the faintest hope of reconciliation. Jack had made up his mind: the past was finished. The future? Hed build that without her, without her opinions, and without her schemes.
The woman who gave birth to him would never reach him not physically, not emotionally. And that, he thought, was probably for the best.
