Chapter 2
“Derry, Mommy’s prepared some fruit for guys.”
you
I walked into the study with the fruit tray, only to overhear the conversation between my son and his friends.
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“Isn’t your mom a financial expert? Why doesn’t she help us with our homework?”
“Heh,” Derry scoffed, “That was in the past. Now she’s just a useless housewife, stuck in the kitchen, can’t even do elementary school math.”
The fruit knife clattered onto the tray.
I stared at my son. Was this still the same child who used to crawl into my arms when
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he had a fever? The same angel who once said, “Mom is the best“?
“Auntie, hello.” Several of his friends greeted me politely, their eyes barely concealing their mocking laughter.
“Let me take a look at it,” I set the tray down and tried to move closer.
“What are you looking at?” Derry yanked the test paper away, the paper crinkling sharply in the air.
“Stop embarrassing yourself here. Aunt Barbie’s coming soon. She’s the real financial whiz.”
Aunt Barbie? A chill ran down my spine.
That woman–the one who had taken my husband–when did she become so close to
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my son?
“If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been at boarding school by now,” Derry stood up, his voice dripping with disdain. “Every time I tried to go, you stopped me, and now you can’t even help me with the basics. You’re making me look like an idiot at school!”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I fled the study in a rush.
Behind me, the cruel whispers echoed:
“So, this is your mom?”
“I heard she used to be a director.”
“Now, she just looks like a washed–up housewife.”
“No wonder Uncle likes Ms. Ford–she’s
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beautiful and smart.”
“A maid would probably be better than her. At least they can help with homework.”
My phone vibrated. It was a message in the parent group.
“Let’s give a warm welcome to Barbie for joining our parents‘ group!”
Looking at the smiley face Barbara posted in the group, I felt a lump in my throat.
“Thank you, everyone! Derry is so sweet, I’ll take good care of him.”
“Barbie is so thoughtful, no wonder the kids all like her.”
“Yeah, she’s not only beautiful but capable.”
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“With Barbie tutoring the kids, they’re lucky!”
“Unlike some people, who just buy groceries and cook.”
At the mall over the weekend, I spotted the three of them from a distance.
Barbara was holding Errol’s arm, and Derry walked between them, his face lit with happiness.
Barbara crouched down to tie Derry’s shoelaces, speaking softly to him, making him laugh.
That scene used to be mine.
I hid behind a pillar, watching them laugh and chat as they walked into the Michelin–starred restaurant, like a stray cat huddled in a corner, quietly observing the happiness of
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others.
Last month, on my birthday, I had wanted to go to that very place. He had said, “You’re just a housewife, why would you need a fancy restaurant?”
“Amy? Is that you?” A familiar voice came from behind.
I quickly wiped my tears and turned around. It was my college friend, Pamela.
“It really is you!” she exclaimed with joy. “It’s been years! I heard you married…”
“Dear, what are you doing standing here?” Errol’s cold voice interrupted.
“This is my college friend…”
“Oh,” he cut me off curtly. “She’s just a
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housewife now–cooking, shopping, living her life in the mundane. Nothing worth discussing.”
He turned to Barbara and said, “Barbie, why don’t you chat with her? I guess you two have a lot in common.”
I caught the awkwardness and pity flickering across Pamela’s face.
The humiliation continued. Barbara elegantly introduced herself, “I’m Derry’s soon–to–be mother.”
Soon–to–be mother? I could hardly breathe.
*Ding-* My phone rang with a notification from the bakery:
“Your birthday cake has been successfully ordered, it will be delivered at 9 AM the day
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after tomorrow.”
The day after tomorrow was Derry’s birthday. I had prepared the cake, balloons, and the limited–edition sneakers for so long, just hoping to see his happy smile.
“By the way,” Errol said suddenly, “the day after tomorrow, Barbie and I are taking Derry to The Breakers for his birthday. You don’t need to prepare anything.”
I shakily opened my phone’s photo album.
On the screen was the design of a basketball cake, one inspired by a drawing Derry had made for me when he was six.
The crooked writing read: “To the best mom in the world!”
Back then, he had said, “Mom, I’m going
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to be a basketball star, and the first championship trophy will be for you!”
Now, he wouldn’t even spend his birthday with me.
Bang–the glass door of the mall slammed shut in front of me.
Through the glass, I saw them happily placing their order. Barbara gently wiped Derry’s mouth, and Errol gazed at them with affectionate indulgence.
That used to be my place, with my husband, my son.
Standing in the parking garage, I stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
Derry’s words echoed in my ears: “The best mom in the world.”
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But now, I didn’t even have the right to be called a mother.
Car after car passed by, whisking away happy families.
And there I stood, left behind like a foolish clown, abandoned by everyone.
Tears blurred my vision, and I tightened my grip on the phone.
It was okay. Derry’s birthday was the day after tomorrow. I would make sure he knew. that his mom would always love him.
I could try again, couldn’t I?
