It had been twenty years since my husband left. Twenty years of scraped-together meals, late-night shifts, and those weeks when I’d count down to payday like it was some sort of lifeline.
I should’ve been used to the constant balancing act of being a single mother, but it still felt like I was one misstep from everything crashing down.
Jake was my life, though. No matter how hard things got, my bright-eyed, creative son was the reason I kept going.
But there was a problem, a big one.
At twenty-five, Jake still hadn’t found his footing.
—
He had no job and no income.
His art was everything to him, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills. And trust me, there were so many bills.
The financial pressure got worse when someone broke in and stole all my savings from my lockbox.
“Mom, you just have to trust me. I’ll figure out who stole your money.
It’s all gonna work out,” Jake had said last week after my house was broken into.
But his voice had been too calm.
Maybe I was too used to things going wrong. Still, the pit in my stomach only grew as I thought about that night. All the cash I’d saved for years, gone in an instant.
Then came the day when everything changed.
Jake had gone out, probably off working on some new project that wouldn’t pay a dime.
I was at the corner store when I saw the shiny, red sports car gleaming in the sun.
It screamed money. Flashy, expensive, and out of place in our neighborhood.
I was about to climb into my beaten-up sedan when a familiar figure caught my eye: Jake. He walked over to the sports car and climbed into the driver’s seat.
My jaw dropped.
My mind raced with possibilities as I headed home, each more impossible than the last.
When I got inside, Jake was leaning against the kitchen counter, twirling the keys to the sports car parked in my driveway like they were nothing.
“Where did you get that car?” I demanded, barely able to keep my voice steady.
He glanced up, shrugging. “Oh, that? It’s nothing, Mom.
I’ve got a new job.”
“A job?” I scoffed, crossing my arms.
“Doing what? You’ve never held down a job in your life, Jake.”
Jake rolled his eyes, pushing past me to grab a soda from the fridge.
“I’m not doing some minimum-wage labor if that’s what you’re asking. It’s legit.”
“Legit?” I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up.
His jaw tightened.
“I’m not stealing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, really?
So where did you get the money for the car then? Or do you expect me to believe you just… stumbled into it?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he snapped. “You wouldn’t get it anyway.”
My chest constricted.
There was no way around it now.
The horrible suspicion that had been gnawing at me since the robbery suddenly had teeth.
“You didn’t… take my money, did you?”
He turned on me so fast. “How could you even ask me that?
I can’t believe you’d think that of me. I’ve done nothing but try to make things better, and this is what I get?” Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
I didn’t want to believe my son was a thief, but I needed answers.
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