เด็ก..บ้านนอก

“Ethan, wake up, honey. It's time for school,” I said softly, gently shaking my 7-year-old son awake.

“Fuck off, bitch,” he shrugged me off.

I froze, my hand still lingering in mid-air.

“Ethan, what did you just say?!” my voice trembled with shock and hurt. Did I hear him right?

He sat up, crossing his arms as he glared at me. “You heard me the first time.” He raised his chin defiantly, “Daddy said I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

My heart squeezed, like air had been knocked out of my lungs. Was that what Ryan had been teaching our son? To disobey me?

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I processed Ethan’s cruel words – and Ryan’s apparent influence behind them.

But I took a deep breath. It was too early to start screaming again. “Your classroom teacher told me you missed the test yesterday. She's giving you another chance today, so you can't miss–”

Ethan rolled his eyes. "So what if I miss it? Daddy said grades don't matter if you have money."

Ryan!!

My blood ran cold. Ryan's toxic influence on their son was staggering. When did this start? How did I not know?

I took another deep breath, trying to get through to my son. He was too young to understand his daddy's shenanigans, and hopefully, I could get through to him. Things have been going wrong lately.

Choosing my words carefully, I smiled, despite my blood boiling. "Ethan, that's not true. Education matters for a better future. Your daddy is a CEO of a big company and we're enjoying riches right now because your daddy took education seriously." I paused, gauging his reaction. Seeing he was listening, I continued. "Education matters to me, Ethan... And it should matter to you too."

He sneered. "Yet you're a housewife all your life, a freeloader.” He hissed. “What good is your education now? What do you bring to the table, if not nagging?” He wasn't done. “Look at Auntie Julia, she's a supermodel, very beautiful, and she doesn't make Sophia and uncle Roman ashamed!” he huffed, “Get out, leave my room, I want to sleep!”

I gasped.

I felt my face hot from the slap, my heart shattering like fragile glass. I swear, I didn't believe those words just came from my son. He used to be the best child anyone could ask for. People envied me for raising a golden child…until few months ago, when our relationship suddenly became strained.

Still, this was too much for a 7 year old to say!

I hated it when the talk of my education was brought up, especially by my family. "I... I gave up everything for you and your father..."

“Leave my room already! The sight of you makes me sick!” Ethan yelled, grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me.

My fist clenched, my body shaking from fury. I could snatch him from that bed and give him a serious beating, like I was raised, but I stopped myself.

I hate the use of violence on children. It left deep scars in my heart and traumatized me for years, and that was why I opted for gentle parenting. Have I been too soft with my son? I shook my head.

This was not entirely Ethan’s fault. I made excuses for him, again.

It was Ryan!

I turned on my heels and ran out with tears in my eyes, slamming the door behind me as I rushed into the next room.

Out of my son’s sight, I broke down against the door. My back leaned on it, uncontrollable tears streaming down my eyes.

Where did I go wrong? Those words he said hurt more than when an adult said them.

Ryan looked up from his phone, coffee in hand, perhaps oblivious to my devastation. "Morning, hon. Sleep okay?"

My body shook violently from the silent sobs as I leaned against our bedroom door, unable to form words.

No one would understand the agony of a mother who couldn't seem to reach her child anymore.

Ryan's expression changed from calm to concern as he took in my state. He set his coffee and phone down and approached me cautiously. "Adele, what's wrong?"

My voice cracked as I managed a whisper, "Ethan...he hates me..."

Ryan's eyes narrowed slightly before he wrapped his arms around me – a gesture that felt more dutiful than loving. His hugs and touches no longer carried affection.

"He's just going through a phase. Preteen angst."

Another slap in my face. I pulled back, my eyes blazing with tears and accusation. "A phase? He threw a pillow at me and said I make him sick! Your son hates me because of YOU."

“What do you mean because of me?” He took a defensive stance, “Adele, perhaps, there's a problem with how you approach him. You should be more gentle. He's still a kid and doesn't know much.”

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" my voice thundered through the room, tears of sadness replaced by tears of rage. I was a sanity short of tearing his mouth apart. "He's 7 years old and tells me I make him SICK – and you think it's MY approach?! He used the ‘F' word, Ryan, the ‘F' word!” I screamed.

“I didn't teach him that. We don't use foul languages in this house. His school doesn't allow that either. So tell me, Ryan, where have you been taking my son? What have you been feeding him?”

“Adele, you're taking this too far. Why are you getting worked up over a child's words? He watches movies, Adele, such words are rampant on the screen.”

“He called me a freeloader. He asked me what I brought to the table.” I continued, “You've poisoned him against me, Ryan – with your constant criticism of me in front of him!" my hands clenched into fists as I advanced on Ryan.

"Every time you 'jokingly' call me nagging or ask me ‘what I bring to the table’, in front of Ethan – he absorbs it! He's learning from YOU to despise me – his own mother!"

“Adele…”

"You're doing this on purpose," I accused, my voice low and deadly.

“What are you saying, Adele?” He sighed, I could see the tired lines on his forehead, a flicker of remorse in his eyes.

He pulled me close. “You know whenever I said those things, I never meant them.” He enveloped me in a warm hug – The hug was different this time. “Don't worry, I'll have a talk with Ethan and make sure he apologizes to you, alright?”

He kissed me on the head, “He may still be angry over what you did yesterday. Don't be so hard on him, hm? Honey? He's still a child. Let's be careful around him. Children are too sensitive and are prone to violence. If we can't handle him now, what about when he becomes a teenager?” He chuckled, “Teenagers are worse, you know.”

My jaw clenched. Yesterday, I confiscated his video games because Ethan had been spending too much time on screen, even late at night. He didn't open his books for a week.

Was I wrong for taking away his video games, knowing I'd give them back once he took his academy seriously again?

It was my method of raising him. He'd never complained about it or thrown a tantrum. Instead, he obeyed immediately and showed tremendous results, just to have his toys back.

So what has changed?

I pushed Ryan away, my voice icy. "You think confiscating video games because he was falling behind in his academy is what made him tell me I make him sick?! Your son said those words because you've been poisoning his mind against me, not because of some video games!"

My hands shot out, gesturing wildly as my anger only intensified. "You always do this – twist things to make my parenting seem flawed and yours seem perfect. Did you even notice he didn't say 'Mom took away my games' – he said 'You make me sick' and compared me to your friend's wife, implying that I made him ashamed. It was a direct attack on ME, Ryan, not my parenting!"

My eyes blazed with tears of frustration. "Will your talk with Ethan include admitting your own role in this mess, or just blaming me further?"

He sighed with exasperation. “What will I gain by turning our son against you? You're his mother, Adele. Why would I turn him against you?” He massaged his temples, feeling visibly exhausted. “I'll talk to him. And he'll never repeat what he did. Trust me, Adele.”

I frowned slightly, my anger dropping at his words. Indeed, he has nothing to gain.

I was Ethan’s mother. I carried him for nine months and he, Ryan, was his father. There was no reason he'd turn my son against me.

Passing a hand over my face, I bit my lips, my anger diminishing. “Ryan, I don't like this. I don't like what's happening between me and Ethan.”

He pulled me into a hug again, “Shh, it will be fine. I assure you. Ethan will come back to you.”

I hugged him back, burying my face in his chest, basking in his cologne. He smelled fresh and musky.

As he said, Ethan apologized to me that evening after returning from school. And as Ryan promised, Ethan returned to the Golden child I raised.

For a week, peace returned to our home. And I couldn't be more happier, seeing my family of three being so happy once more.

How naive of me.