“Mom, Starting Next Month, We’ll Transfer All Your Money To My Account.” My Son Said That, And I Just Smiled. That Night, As Always, He Came With His Wife For A Free Dinner.

This will be a continuous narrative in the first person as per your instructions. “Mom, starting with your next paycheck, we’re going to transfer all your money to my account.” Those were the words my son Lawrence said to me that Thursday afternoon while he was drinking coffee in my kitchen, as if he was proposing something completely normal, as if he was doing me a favor, as if I were incapable of managing my own money at 62 years old. I stared at him.

I didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I just looked into his eyes, searching for something that would explain why my own son, the boy I raised alone, who I fed with the sweat of my brow, was asking for total access to my bank account. But I didn’t find anything.

I just saw that calm smile, that confidence of someone who knows they’re in control. So I took a deep breath and told him yes, that it seemed fine to me, that I trusted him. Lawrence’s smile widened.

He stood up, gave me a quick mechanical kiss on the forehead, one of those kisses that don’t mean anything, and told me it was for the best. He said I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, that he would take care of everything, that it was for my own good. For my own good.

Those words hung in the air after he left my house. That same night, like every Friday, Lawrence came back, but he didn’t come alone. He arrived with his wife, as he always did.

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