My Son Called Me A Beggar

When May kicked the door open for the third time, flanked by her entourage, I was slowly straightening my collar in front of the mirror.

Clifford, the lead counsel for the Sterling Group, spoke first. His voice was as clinical as a scalpel. Mr. Smithpardon me, Gavin. This is the third documented instance of marital infidelity.

"The prenuptial agreement is ironclad," he continued, adjusting his glasses. "You are to leave with nothing. No assets, no alimony, and you are permanently waiving all custodial rights to your son."

May stood behind him. Those eyes, which I once thought held the stars, were now filled with nothing but a toxic, concentrated hatred. "The first time, you claimed she was a stranger. The second time, you played the amnesia card."

"Three strikes, Gavin. Whats the script this time?" She slammed the divorce papers onto the nightstand so hard a spray of ink speckled the mahogany.

I didnt look at her twisted expression. I didnt care about the predatory clauses in that contract. As my fingers brushed the pen, I felt a sudden, inexplicable lightness.

The moment my signature hit the paper, I heard May catch her breath.

As I turned to leave, her controlled facade finally shattered into a scream that echoed down the hallway. But it didn't register. Wasn't this the ending she had been writing for us all along?

Clifford snatched the papers away before the ink could even dry.

As if terrified Id change my mind, he turned to May with a triumphant nod. "Its done, May. He signed."

May stared at me, her brow furrowed. I suppose she was waiting for the encorewaiting for me to rip the papers to shreds like the last two times. Waiting for me to drop to my knees, forehead hitting the floor until I bled, sobbing, Please, for the sake of our son, just believe me one last time!

I calmly capped my pen and set it on the table.

"Ill have my things moved out as soon as possible. As for visitation"

"You don't deserve to be a father," she interrupted, her voice dropping to a low, jagged growl. "You will never see him again."

I didn't look up. I just let out a small, tired laugh. "I was actually going to say... I don't want them. The visitation rights. You can keep them."

The indifference in Mays eyes flickered. For a split second, she looked unsettled. She couldn't wrap her head around this sudden "efficiency."

For the last four years, she and our son had been my entire universe. I used to feel a pang in my chest just hearing the boy call Clifford "Uncle T" one too many times. To walk away now, so cleanlyit wasn't like me.

"Pathetic," she spat, finally finding a way to rationalize my behavior. "Youre throwing away your own flesh and blood for whatever tramp you have waiting outside."

"Tell me, Gavin... was it worth it? All those schemes you used to crawl into my bed, forcing me to have that childwhat was it all for if youre just going to discard him now?"

I listened to her, but the urge to defend myself had simply evaporated.

The first time she "caught" me in a hotel room, I was catatonic with confusion. I had screamed myself hoarse trying to explain I hadn't touched anyone. But May was always certain I was obsessed with her. And because the woman I was allegedly with had vanishedleaving nothing but a blurred silhouette on a security feedMay "mercifully" believed me.

But she took our son away.

I was relegated to once-a-month visits, scheduled a week in advance through Clifford. Every second was supervised. I had to watch Cliffords smug face while I held my boy. I had to ask permission to buy him clothes or toys. If Clifford didn't approve, the gifts never made it past the front gate.

My mental health spiraled. Then came the second "affair."

I had taken a job to keep my mind busy. On a business trip, I woke up in a haze in a cheap motel. A stranger was lying next to me, watching me with a predatory grin. I called the police myself, but the medical exam showed no signs of assault. To May, that just meant I hadn't had time to "finish the job."

After that, I was banned from parent-teacher conferences. May told the school Clifford would handle everything. She told me to stay home so I wouldn't "embarrass the family." When our son pointed a finger at me and called me a "bad man," she stood by and said nothing.

And now, the third time...

I was tired of the game. I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. So why was she asking me why?

Clifford stepped closer to her, lowering his voice in a mock-whisper that he intended for me to hear. "May, Ive seen a lot of deadbeat dads in my career, but Ive never seen one sign away his rights this eagerly."

"Hes probably been planning this for a while. A kid is just baggage when you're trying to live a playboy lifestyle. Don't waste your breath on him."

He glanced at me, a flicker of something dark and heavy in his eyes.

I smiled. He seemed to have forgotten... four years ago, he was the one who drafted that absurd "three strikes" prenup with surgical precision.

Mays face turned several degrees colder. "Youd better mean it. Don't come crawling back to my doorstep on your knees."

She turned and swept out of the room. I watched her back, the corners of my mouth twitching.

I won't be back, May.

Years ago, to convince myself I was worthy of you, I visited every cathedral and small-town chapel I could find. I prayed until my knees were raw. I traveled five thousand miles on a spiritual pilgrimage just to hear a priest tell me that "love is a destiny, regardless of birthright."

I thought I had found a miracle. It turns out I just found a curse.

This time, my knees wouldn't bend an inch.

Clifford looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, Gavin, time is money, and I'm sure you have a 'busy' night ahead of you. We'll leave you to it."

The door clicked shut. Silence flooded the room.

I looked down at the woman still sleeping off a drug-induced stupor on the bed. A wave of nausea hit my stomach. I had woken up before her; I could have left before they arrived to "catch" me. But I was bored of being the mouse. I had stayed just to end the game.

I threw on my coat and walked out without looking back.

The next evening, I went back to the house to pack. When I pushed open the master bedroom door, I found it stripped bare. My clothes, my bookseverything was gone.

The maid wouldn't look me in the eye. "Sir... your things were moved to the garden shed. Mr. Clifford said... he said the master suite needs to be ready for its new owner immediately."

I let out a dry laugh. Four years of marriage, and I didn't even get a decent goodbye.

I walked to the storage shed in the backyard. It was a graveyard of boxes and plastic bags. I knelt and started digging. Nothing else mattered, except for my mothers jade bracelet. It was an heirloom passed down through six generations, the only thing in this world that truly belonged to me.

Finally, I found it at the very bottom of a crate. I clutched it in my palm, letting out a long, shuddering breath.

As I started to gather a few shirts, a high-pitched, mocking voice came from the doorway. "What are you doing?"

I turned. Parker stood there, his small frame silhouetted against the light. He looked exactly like May, but he had adopted that same condescending posture as Clifford.

"Taking my things," I said, returning to my packing. Usually, I would have rushed to hug him, even if he pushed me away. This time, I was a hollow shell of calm.

"Those aren't yours."

He walked inside when I didn't respond, deliberately stepping on a pile of my sweaters. "Uncle T says everything in this house belongs to Mommy. You aren't allowed to take anything."

I paused. "These are my personal belongings, Parker."

"You bought them with Mommys money." He put his hands behind his back. "Mommys money belongs to the Sterlings. Sterlings don't give things to outsiders."

Outsourcer?

I looked up at him. My four-year-old son was looking at me as if I were a common thief. The coldness in his eyes was even sharper than May's.

"I'm taking one thing," I said, tightening my grip on the bracelet as I stood up. "The rest you can burn for all I care."

"No." He stepped in front of the door, spreading his arms wide. "You can't steal from us."

"Parker, move."

"No!" he shouted. "You're a beggar! A thieving beggar! Uncle T said once you leave, youre never coming back, and if you touch anything, its stealing!"

My pulse throbbed in my temples. "I'm saying it one last time. Move."

"No! Give it back!"

He lunged at me, grabbing for the red silk pouch in my hand. I instinctively pulled back, and the silk tore. The jade bracelet slid out, hitting the concrete floor with a sickening crack. It shattered into jagged shards.

I stood frozen. I remembered the day my mother put it on my wrist. She was so frail then. Gavin, this has survived six generations. Give it to your daughter one day. Or your sons wife.

I had no daughter. I would never have a daughter-in-law. All I had was this bracelet. Six generations of history, shattered by my own son.

Parker stood there, muttering under his breath, "You should have just let go..."

My eyes burned as I looked at him. "I told you... that was all I had left of your grandmother."

"You think she cares? Do you even know why shes rotting away in that nursing home?"

Parker blinked, taking a half-step back. "I don't have a grandmother. I just know about the old lady whos a money-pit."

The blood roared in my ears.

"Uncle T said so. He said she stays in that fancy room and burns through Mommys money, and shes never going to get better anyway. Shes just a waste of"

"Say that again." My voice didn't sound like mine anymore. It was a low, vibrating hum of pure rage.

Parker looked startled, but he bit his lip and doubled down. "She's a money-burning old lady! What are you going to"

I shoved him.

He tripped over a box and landed hard on his rear. He stared at me for one shocked second before letting out a blood-curdling scream.

"MOMMY! MOMMY!"

I stood there, my palm tingling. I looked at my son wailing on the floor, but all I could hear was money-burning old lady.

That woman was my mother. His grandmother. The woman who, despite being fresh out of surgery, spent weeks hand-knitting him a baby blanket. The woman who, every year on his birthday, had the nurses help her call him just to whisper a blessing.

And he called her a waste of money.

A sharp piece of jade sliced into my palm. The pain cleared my head.

May burst in, saw Parker on the floor, and scooped him up. "Parker! What happened?"

Parker buried his face in her neck, sobbing hysterically. "He hit me, Mommy! Make him leave! I want Uncle T!"

May looked at me, her eyes flashing with cold disgust. "Gavin, have you lost your mind? Putting your hands on a child?"

"I didn't hit him," I said quietly. "I pushed him."

"Is there a difference?"

I looked down at the broken jade in my hand. "Yes. Hitting him would be an act of a father trying to discipline a child. Pushing him was simply giving him what he deserved."

May stiffened. She looked down at her son. Parkers cries subsided into a smug mumble. "I was just telling the truth... Uncle T said that old lady is just burning Mommys cash..."

May pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hes a child, Gavin. Don't be so sensitive. Clifford manages our family's finances; he was likely discussing fiscal realities, and the boy overheard. Don't make this a moral crusade."

"Clifford does so much for this family. You wouldn't understand the pressure he's under."

She caught sight of the shattered bracelet in my hand. For a fleeting second, her voice softened. "Look, I brought Parker here today so we could talk. But the divorce... lets not tell him just yet. I don't want to affect his development."

I knew what she meant. She wanted me to play the part of the disgraced ghost until she was ready to announce her "new" family.

I didn't say a word. Talk? About what?

In four years, the total time she and my son had spent talking to me didn't equal half the time she spent with Clifford. It was May who had pursued me in college. She was the one who broke down my walls, making me believe in a "possibility" that everyone said was impossible. I had prayed for a miracle, and I thought I got one.

Now I realized the miracle was a mirage.

My mother was waiting for me. I picked up my bag and walked out of the shed.

In the living room, Clifford was kneeling in front of Parker, whispering something to soothe him. I walked past them like they were ghosts.

Behind me, Parker wailed again. "The bad man is ignoring me!"

He stamped his feet, furious. He was used to me groveling after he threw a tantrum. He was used to me saying, Don't be mad, Parker. Daddys sorry. When I didn't even give him a glance, his world tilted.

Mays voice cracked like a whip. "Stop right there!"

I stopped.

"Come here and apologize to Parker," she commanded. "You scared him."

I paused. I realized this might be the last time Id ever see them. I didn't have the energy to fight.

I walked over and knelt down.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking her in the eye one last time. "I shouldn't have pushed him."

Parker sniffled, then suddenly spat directly into my face. The glob of saliva slid down my cheek.

"Dirty man," he chirped in his sweet, childish voice. "You deserve it."

May watched with icy indifference. "Even a child can see through your disgusting behavior, Gavin. Your affairs have consequences."

I slowly wiped the spit from my face. I started to laugh.

"My affairs?"

The setups were so clumsy, so transparentdid she really not see the holes? Or did she just choose not to?

"May, for four years, you and Clifford have been a couple in everything but name. You even sent my son to stay at his house. Whos really the one stepping out here? Were getting divorced. Can we at least stop lying to ourselves?"

Cliffords face went pale. His eyes welled with performative tears. "Gavin, how could you say something so cruel? May, I..."

"Gavin, enough!" Mays gaze burned into me. "You want to talk about being 'unfaithful'? Fine. Since youre so convinced were 'dirty'" She stepped toward me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me toward the bedroom. "Ill show you what dirty actually looks like."

She threw me onto the floor and used one of my own ties to bind my wrists. Then she turned, grabbed Clifford by his lapels, and pulled him close to her ear.

"Do you want me?" she whispered, loud enough for me to hear.

Clifford hesitated for a heartbeat before wrapping his arms around her. "May, I've waited a lifetime for this..."

They began to lose themselves in each other, clothes hitting the floor.

I bit my lip until I tasted copper. "May, were getting divorced. You can do this whenever you want. Why do you have to humiliate me like this?"

She stopped, her hand gripping my chin. "Humiliate you? Gavin, you think you still have enough dignity left to be humiliated?"

"May, honey, don't let him distract you..." Clifford murmured, breathing against her neck.

She let go of me and sank back into his embrace. I closed my eyes, silent tears tracking through the dust on my face.

Then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a call from the nursing home.

I struggled against my bonds to reach it. When I finally pressed 'accept,' it wasn't my mothers voice. It was a nurse, her voice trembling.

"Mr. Smith? You need to get here immediately. Your mother... she found out about the divorce. She thinks she's a burden to you. Shes on the roof"

"What?"

"She said" The line went dead with a burst of static.

My brain exploded. "May!" I screamed. "Somethings wrong with my mother! Let me go! Please, just let me go!"

She glanced back at me, a mocking smile on her lips. "Trying to use the 'dying mother' card again, Gavin? I told you, I'm watching the show. You stay put."

"I'm not lying! The hospital called! She found out about the divorce and she's"

"Enough." She stood up. "The ink isn't even dry on the papers. How could she possibly know? You probably told her yourself just to trigger another crisis. Its your own fault."

She turned back to Clifford. I lunged toward the door, my wrists screaming against the tie. "May! She saved your life! She saved Parker! She took that hit for you three years ago! Please don't do this!"

"Gavin!" She looked at me with pure exhaustion. "Is your mother your hostage? Every time you get caught cheating, it's either 'think of the baby' or 'remember the accident.' Im done."

"I'm not" I choked on a sob. "This is real. Please..."

Clifford wrapped his arms around her waist. "May, everyone knows she only jumped in front of that car to save her grandson. If it had just been you, she wouldn't have moved a muscle. Youve already paid her medical bills for years. Youve done enough."

"Let's not let him ruin the mood..."

The last spark of hesitation in Mays eyes died.

I stopped begging. I threw myself at the door, my head slamming into the wood. Blood smeared the white paint.

She marched over, grabbed me, and threw me back into the center of the room. "You wanted the truth, Gavin? Here it is. You're going to watch."

She tore a strip of duct tape and slapped it over my mouth. Then she hauled me up and shoved me into the walk-in closet, locking the door from the outside.

The light disappeared. In the darkness, I heard them continue.

Again. And again.

The next evening, May returned from a gala. She stood in the living room, rubbing her temples, and habitually called out:

"Gavin? My head is killing me. Make me some tea."

No one answered.

She frowned and turned to the maid. "Where is he?"

The maid looked confused. "Ma'am, I was going to ask you. Parker had a fever this morning102 degreesand hes been calling for his father. Also... the hospital called. They said Gavins mother jumped last night. The body is at the morgue. No one has come to identify her."

May froze. "What did you say?"

A cold realization gripped her heart. "You... you didn't let him out?"

The maid looked blank. "Let him... out of where?"

May bolted up the stairs, her heart hammering against her ribs. She threw open the closet door