Forgive Me, My Son

Forgive me, my son.

This is the story of a so-called troubled family, as people like to say. A mother raises her son alone, her marriage broken before the boys first birthday. Now he is fourteen, she is thirty-four, and she works as a bookkeeper at a small office in Leeds.

The past year had been a nightmare. Her son, Daniel, used to earn good marks until Year Sixthen the Cs started to appear, then worse. All she wanted was for Daniel to finish his GCSEs, to qualify in something, anything.

The school called her in endlessly; the head of year never bothered with pleasantries, choosing to scold her in front of other teachers who all too eagerly recited Daniels misbehaviours and lack of progress. Downtrodden and irritable, shed trudge home feeling entirely helpless to change anything. Daniel would listen to her rebukes silently, sulking. He still never did his homework, never helped out at home.

This evening, again, she had come home to a mess. She had been quite clear before work: Come home from school and tidy up, understood? shed said that morning.

With a sigh, she put the kettle on and forced herself to tidy instead. While dusting, her eyes suddenly caught the space on the sideboardher crystal vase, the only expensive thing in the flat, a birthday gift from friends years ago, was gone. She froze. Had he taken it? Sold it?

Dreadful thoughts flooded her mind. Only yesterday, shed seen Daniel with a group of shifty lads by the corner shop. When shed asked, Who are those boys? Daniel had muttered something inaudible, his face all but shouting, None of your business!

Shes got in with the wrong crowd, the thought jolted through her. Oh God, what if they made him do something? He wouldnt havesurely not! What if hed started smoking? Or worse Panic rising, she hurried down the stairs. The street outside was dark; only the odd passer-by hurried down the pavement.

Slowly, she made her way back up to the flat. All my fault, she thought. All my fault! Theres no peace for him at home. I even wake him up with a shout; every evening, its the same old row. Oh Daniel, poor love, what kind of mother am I? She wept heavily, then pressed on with cleaning to distract herself.

Dusting behind the fridge, she discovered an old newspaper. Tugging at it, she heard a clink of glass and pulled out fragments of her shattered crystal vase, wrapped in the paper.

He broke it He broke it! Suddenly it dawned on her, and she began to cry againbut now with relief. He hadnt pawned it; hed broken it accidentally and hidden the pieces. And nowshe realisedsilly boy, he was ashamed to come home, afraid of her reaction! But nohe wasnt silly at all. She imagined herself discovering the broken vase, imagined her rage, and let out a heavy sigh. She began preparing dinner, laying the table with neat napkins and plates.

Daniel slipped in close to midnight, standing silently in the doorway. She rushed to him: Danny! Where have you been? Ive been so worried! Are you cold? She took his icy hands, warmed them in hers, kissed his cheek. Go wash your hands, love. Ive made your favourite. Confused, Daniel went quietly to the sink.

She called from the kitchen, Well eat in the lounge tonight. He found the living room unusually spotless, the table laid. He sat gingerly. Eat, Danny! sounded her gentle voice. He couldnt remember the last time his mother spoke to him like that. He sat, head bowed, not touching the food.

Go on, love, she coaxed.

He looked up, voice trembling: I broke the vase.

I know, Daniel, she said softly. Its all right. Everything breaks, sooner or later.

Suddenly, he lowered his head and sobbed. She came and wrapped him in her arms, crying quietly as well. When he calmed, she whispered:

Forgive me, son. I shout at you so much. Its hard for me, Daniel. You think I dont notice how you look compared to your classmatesIm so tired, so much work, I even bring it home. Please, forgive me. I promise Ill never be harsh with you again.

They ate in silence, then went to bed without a fuss. That morning, for the first time, she didnt need to wake him. He got up on his own. As he left for school, instead of warning him, she kissed his cheek and simply said, See you tonight.

That evening, she came home to find the floors washed and Daniel frying up potatoes for dinner.

Since then, she forbade herself from discussing school or grades with him. If her scarce visits to school unsettled her, what must they do to him?

When Daniel casually announced hed be staying on after GCSEs for A-levels, she hid her doubts. Quietly, she once peeked at his school diaryno sign of any failing marks.

But the most precious moment came one evening, as she spread her accounts on the table. Daniel sat beside her and, for the first time, offered to help. After an hour of working together, she felt him gently rest his head on her shoulder.

She froze. When he was little, hed often curl up next to her, dosing off with his head on her arm. Now she knew, at lastshe had her son back.