Chapter 9 - Desperation on Knees
"I am listening, Daniel," I said calmly.
"Mom... they took everything," he sobbed, his voice echoing from what sounded like a noisy public street corner. "Marcus fired me. They took the company car. My bank account is frozen. Vanessa cleaned out our personal safe at the house before the guards locked it, and she's filed for divorce. I don't have a penny. I don't even have an umbrella, Mom. I'm sitting at a bus stop on Fourth Street."
I closed my eyes, taking a steady breath. "Actions have consequences, Daniel."
"I know! I know I was wrong! I swear to God, Mom, I'm so sorry!" he cried, his voice breaking into hysterical gasps. "The stress... Vanessa was constantly demanding more money, telling me I wasn't a real man if I couldn't provide, pushing me to demand you give up the deed... I lost my mind! When I slapped you, the moment my hand touched your face, I wanted to die! Please, Mom, I need your help. Just pay for a hotel room. Just give me enough to eat. I haven't eaten since yesterday."
Clara shook her head vigorously across the table, mouthing the word: *No.*
"Daniel," I said. "Where are you?"
"I'm outside the Grandview Hotel on Fourth. That's where you're staying, right? Arthur's driver mentioned the Grandview when they were packing your things. Mom, please come down. Just look at me. Give me five minutes."
I paused for a long moment. "Wait in the lobby. Do not make a scene."
I ended the call. Clara stood up immediately. "Margaret, are you out of your mind? You're going to bail him out again! He'll cry, he'll say the right words, and in six months you'll be coughing in a corner while he spends your money!"
"I am not bailing him out, Clara," I said, smoothing down my skirt and standing up. "I am going to close this chapter properly. A mother does not hide behind lawyers forever. He needs to see me."
Ten minutes later, accompanied by two hotel security guards who kept a discreet distance, Clara and I rode the elevator down to the marble lobby.
Daniel was sitting on a bench near the revolving doors. He looked completely shattered. His expensive designer shirt was soaked with rain, clinging to his shoulders. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his dress shoes were scuffed and muddy, and he held a paper coffee cup someone had discarded on a side table.
The moment he saw me walk out of the elevator alcove, he jumped to his feet.
"Mom!"
He rushed forward, ignoring the stares of wealthy hotel guests, and collapsed directly onto his knees on the polished marble floor. He reached out, his trembling hands grasping at the hem of my coat, weeping openly.
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"Mom, forgive me. Please, forgive me. I'll do anything. I'll go to counseling. I'll cut Vanessa out completely. I'll mow the lawns, I'll cook your meals, I'll be the son you wanted! Just don't throw me out into the street!"
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