Clara skillfully helped me put my clothes into the closet. This girl was always like that, constantly busy, always with a gentle smile on her face. But I noticed that whenever Julian was near, her smile seemed a bit strained, and a flicker of caution and timidity would cross her eyes.
The first dinner was held in a seemingly warm atmosphere. The meal was lavish, filled with all my favorite dishes.
“Mom, eat more. You’re too thin,” Julian said, placing a large piece of fish in my bowl.
“I can get it myself. You eat.”
“Clara, aren’t you going to get Mom some more soup? What are you just sitting there for?”
He turned to his wife. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was filled with authority.
Clara flinched and quickly ladled some soup for me. I saw her hand tremble slightly. I pretended not to notice and smiled at her.
“Thank you, dear. The soup is delicious.”
Throughout the meal, it was mostly Julian who did the talking. He talked about work, about big projects, about the pressures of competition. He spoke of his achievements without any modesty, full of self-satisfaction.
Clara and I just sat and listened, nodding occasionally.
I suddenly realized my son was no longer the little boy who needed my protection. He had become a man of the world, a man with power, and he had brought that power home with him.
That night, lying in the unfamiliar soft bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The sounds of the city drifted in through the window, the distant blare of car horns, the faint murmur of people talking. Everything was new, and everything made me uneasy.
I tried to soothe myself.
“Everything will be fine. I just need time to adjust.”
During the first few days in my son’s luxurious condo, I thought my worries had been for nothing. The new life wasn’t as oppressive as I had imagined. On the contrary, it was filled with what seemed like sincere care.
In the mornings, after Julian left for work, Clara would often accompany me to the farmers market. She wouldn’t let me carry a thing, always asking,
“Mom, what do you feel like eating? I’ll make it for you.”
She listened patiently to my scattered stories about my teaching career and my old students. Occasionally, she would take me to a large shopping mall and buy me a few new outfits, despite my repeated refusals.
“Mom, that looks so elegant on you,” she would praise, her smile gentle, her eyes clear. “Julian would be so happy to see you in it.”
Julian also played the part of a devoted son. Every evening when he returned from work, no matter how tired he was, he would first stop by my room to greet me.
“Mom, how are you feeling today? Do you need me to buy you more supplements?”
He bought me an electronic blood pressure monitor, instructing me carefully.
“Mom, you need to measure it twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. Have Clara write it down in this notebook so I can check it.”
But this peace, it turned out, was just a thin veneer.
It happened on a night at the end of the month, about two weeks after I had moved in. By then, the city had fallen asleep, with only the dim glow of street lights filtering through the window frame. I was a light sleeper anyway, often tossing and turning until the middle of the night.
When the clock on the wall struck three dry chimes, I was suddenly jolted awake by a sound that was familiar, yet occurring at a most unusual time: a rush of water.
It was the sound of a shower coming from the main bathroom, the one right next to my bedroom. The fierce rushing water broke the profound silence of the night.
Who would be taking a shower at 3:00 in the morning?
I strained my ears, but there were no other sounds, only that rhythmic, lonely rush of water. Could Julian or Clara be sick and need to sponge off? A sliver of worry entered my heart.
I wanted to open my door to check, but I was afraid of disturbing them. The sound of the water lasted for about 15 minutes, then stopped abruptly. The condo fell silent again.
I couldn’t get back to sleep that night.
The next morning at breakfast, I tried to act as natural as possible.
“Julian,” I said, looking at my son, “were you not feeling well last night? Around 3:00 in the morning, I heard someone taking a shower.”
