Everyone dreamt of having a companion in their old age. But the person who would have grown old with me had long since passed away, and here I was, at seventy. My body was still spry. I could hike two mountains back-to-back without breaking a sweat. My mindset was youthful, too; I spent my days scrolling through my phone at home. Encouraged by the beauty industry and some of those younger ladies, I decided to get some work done. When I woke up, I felt like I’d turned back the clock thirty years. On the day I was discharged, my three sons came to pick me up. My eldest, Ryan Fleming, couldn’t stop praising me. My middle son, Steve Fleming, gave me a thumbs-up, his pride evident. And then there was my youngest, Barry Fleming, daringly teasing me, “Mom, you look younger than I do now!” Hearing that made my heart swell with joy. I caught a glimpse of my youthful face in the car window’s reflection and couldn’t help but clap my hands in delight. But while my sons knew about my transformation, my old friends had no idea. It took several weeks of mental preparation and letting my new look settle before I felt ready to face the world again. The moment I stepped out into the spotlight was on my seventieth birthday, and that was when my nightmare began. Determined to keep my spirited attitude and embrace activities that only the young would dare to try, I decided to shake things up. I abandoned the usual dinner gatherings and threw a party at my house, inviting friends and family to celebrate. On the day of the party, my sons seemed to have coordinated their efforts, each bringing along their wives or partners. The emcee read heartfelt messages, champagne flowed freely, and the atmosphere was electric. The number of people continued to rise, and among them, more and more middle-aged single men were appearing, providing ample opportunities for me to socialize. As I sat in the guest of honor’s seat, a parade of handsome and not-so-handsome men, tall and short, passed by me. I thought surely I’d find someone who caught my eye. But then the lights flickered. Ryan’s wife, Cailey Pratt, leaned against the couch, her glass of wine in hand, her gaze hazy and unfocused. That look in her eyes was all too familiar—it reminded me of how I used to look at my late husband. But then, to my shock, Cailey suddenly said to my son, looking at me. “Ryan, I don’t love you anymore.” “What?” Ryan exclaimed, stunned. “I don’t love you anymore.” Ryan gripped his wine glass tightly, and I widened my eyes in disbelief. Though most of the guests were family, I silently wished, “Let’s pretend we didn’t hear that.” Alanis Carell, my middle son’s wife, who’d never gotten along with Cailey, seized the moment. “Cailey, do you even realize what you just said?” I chimed in, “Cailey, you…” But Cailey cut me off, her eyes sparkling with affection as she stood in front of me. “Mom, you know what? I love you. “And I just want to…” Ignoring Alanis, Cailey continued, “Mom, I want to hug you! I love you so much…” I awkwardly smiled and opened my arms, embracing Cailey like a gentleman. I could feel her hugging me tighter and tighter, to the point where it felt like my ribs were about to snap. I had to twist away, and now my back was killing me. “Ow, Cailey, that’s enough!” I winced, trying to pry her off me. But Cailey wouldn’t let go. To everyone else, it looked like a heartfelt reunion between old friends. I waved my hand, trying to rouse my dazed son. “Ryan, Cailey’s drunk! Shouldn’t you take her home to rest?” Ryan nodded, a mix of frustration and confusion on his face, and he hoisted Cailey over his shoulder. As they stumbled away, I felt my face burn with embarrassment while the guests looked on in bewilderment. Their expressions were a mix of shock and disbelief, lingering until the party finally came to an end. I sat there like a zombie, unable to wrap my head around the fact that my son’s wife could harbor such twisted feelings toward me, feelings that bordered on obsession. During this surreal moment, some well-meaning souls even patted my shoulder, offering words of encouragement. “Hang in there,” they said, trying to offer support.
After the party wrapped up and my sons had taken their families home, I found myself alone, feeling both helpless and exasperated as I cleaned up the house. My mind drifted back to Cailey’s intense gaze—the way it felt like she wanted to devour me whole. The rich aroma of red wine still lingered in the glass, and I was too exhausted to resist. I downed it in one gulp. “What the hell was that all about?” I muttered, shaking my head. If I had known my charm was still alive and kicking, I might have skipped the plastic surgery. But then again, who wouldn’t want to feel thirty years younger? The next morning, I was jolted awake by a nightmare—Cailey’s loving gaze haunting me in my sleep. I never expected such a thing to make me feel so nauseous, and I ended up feeling under the weather for several days. With Alanis busy making a living and Barry still single, it fell on Cailey to take care of me. She cooked, cleaned, and even tackled the laundry. While this was nothing new, it felt more awkward than ever. One day, Cailey appeared with a bowl of oatmeal, a spoon poised in front of my mouth, gently blowing on it. Cailey smiled at me, “Mom, it’s time to eat.” Her tone was soft, and to anyone watching, we looked like a picture-perfect pair. But her words sent a chill down my spine, like a haunting melody I couldn’t escape. I had no choice but to oblige as she cheerfully fed me the lukewarm oatmeal. Cailey said, her enthusiasm bubbling over, “Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to the park. “There’s a new batch of roses, and I remember they’re your favorite.” Before I could even form a complete response, she was off, her hips swaying in a way that could make a willow tree envious. With Ryan often buried in work, sometimes late into the night, I worried about any rifts forming between them. So, I decided to pay them a visit. I knocked on their door and called out, “Ryan, guess who’s here? Your mom!” Inside, Ryan was busy cooking while Cailey stood beside him, her brow furrowed. “Am I not welcome? Why is everyone so quiet?” I asked, sensing the tension. Ryan glanced at me, but Cailey’s expression was one of distress. “What’s wrong? Did you two have a fight?” I asked, trying to soothe the situation as I nudged Ryan away from the stove. The flames were roaring, and as I cracked an egg into the pan, I teased, “You didn’t bully Cailey again, did you?” Ryan shook his head, exasperated. “Me? Bully her? Come on, Mom! Cailey’s got a mouth on her that could take down a lion.” He had a point. Cailey was the only daughter, spoiled by her parents. When she married into our family, she even tried to negotiate an extra 30 thousand dollars in gift money for marriage. I wasn’t having it and settled on 15 thousand dollars. Their relationship had been surprisingly harmonious. Even now, at nearly forty, Cailey hadn’t gotten pregnant, but they had never fought over infidelity. But the other night, everything changed when Cailey made that outrageous declaration. She had said she loved me! And that she wanted to hug me! At Ryan’s words, Cailey’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “No, Mom, I just want to be by your side. Ryan’s the one who’s been mean to me.” I said, “Why would he hit you?” “Because… because…” She stammered, unable to give a clear answer. My son, though big and burly, had never had a parent-teacher meeting over a fight in his life. Ryan rolled his eyes, nearly passing out, and shouted, “I didn’t hit her. She wants a divorce.” “Divorce?” I quickly covered Ryan’s mouth, hissing, “Son, don’t go spreading nonsense!” Up until now, their family had always been calm, never even a raised voice. But their situation hadn’t changed, and Cailey’s eyes still glowed with affection for me. With no other option, I decided to feign anger and said, “If this is about me, I’ll stay out of your lives from now on.” I lifted my skirt and turned to leave. Ryan, knowing me well, understood I was just trying to scare them and that I wouldn’t actually leave. But Cailey wasn’t the same. She suddenly burst into tears upon hearing my words, rushed over, and clung to me. “Please don’t go, Mom!” Cailey cried, sobbing uncontrollably. At my age, I thought I could still rely on my seniority to handle this situation, but it seemed not to be enough. They were indeed heading for a divorce, which meant dividing assets and a mandatory one-month cooling-off period.
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