Boy Blames Mom for Spending Nights Out after Dad’s Death, One Night She Offers He Go With Her – Story of the Day

I blamed Mom for moving on too soon when she started spending nights out just a few weeks after Dad's death. I even lashed out at her and said some mean things, only to realize the truth was far from what I thought.

I was fuming as I sat on the living room couch. It was 1:30 a.m., and Mom was still not home. It was the third time that week I had seen her sneak out late at night like she had something to hide.

It was clear she was dating someone secretly. Why else would she disappear for long hours at night? Dad had passed away from cancer just six weeks ago. He was everything to me, my hero. Losing him was the hardest thing for a 15-year-old me, and I could tell Mom was devastated after his passing. I know she was.

I wanted Mom to be happy again and didn't mind if she dated someone. But her hiding it from me and disappearing for hours at night? That did not sit well with me.

It hurt me that she seemed to have moved on too quickly. How could she even think someone could replace Dad in our lives? The very thought of it enraged me.

So, as I sat on the couch, waiting for her to get home that night, I was determined to confront her. About 20 minutes later, I finally heard the sound of her car on the gravel outside our house.

As Mom walked in and saw me waiting on the couch, she was totally shocked. "Trey! Jesus! You scared the life out of me!" she gasped, her hand over her heart.

I didn't budge, just sat there with my arms crossed. "Had a good time with your new guy?" I snapped. "When do I get to meet him?"

"What?" Mom frowned. "What are you talking about, Trey?"

"Seriously?" I scoffed. "It's pretty clear what's going on. You're out all the time, and it's only been a month and a half since we lost Dad. How could you?"

Mom's face went white. "Watch what you say, Trey! Are you out of your mind? How could you even—" But I didn't let her finish.

"Enough, Mom!" My voice broke, and suddenly, I was the one falling apart, tears streaming down my face.

"You don't need to lie to me. I'd be okay if you were just honest. But lying? Hiding? I CAN'T STAND IT! I HATE YOU FOR THIS!" I yelled and ran to my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

Mom was deeply hurt by what I did. I could hear her crying as I sobbed in my room. But I didn't regret my actions. I thought she deserved it for what she had done. I couldn't have been more wrong.

At breakfast the next morning, Mom was trying to act like everything was normal, chatting about this and that. I couldn't keep acting like I was okay.

So I interrupted her and asked her to fetch me some milk from the fridge. When she left, I saw my chance and snatched her phone from next to her plate. There was a new message from someone named Steve.

I knew what I was doing was wrong, but my curiosity got the better of me. I opened the message — her phone didn't have a lock — and was stunned by what I saw.

"I'll see you at 1:00. Don't be late!" the message read.

"Give that back, Trey!" Mom was back in a flash and snatched her phone back. "You're way out of line. You can't just go through my phone, young man!" she yelled.

"STEVE, huh? So, is he the new dad?" I shot back, feeling angry and hurt. "Oh wait, I'm sure he doesn't want children, which is why you didn't tell me anything about your relationship!"

Mom almost slammed the milk carton on the table. "Talking to you is useless, Trey!" she fumed. "You know what? Come with me tonight. Then you'll see what's really going on with Steve and me."

With that, she collected her things and stormed off.

"Yeah, alright, Mom. I'll be there," I retorted, feeling a mix of anger and curiosity. I grabbed my bag and headed to school.

That night, at around 11:30 p.m., Mom and I left the house. After a ride of about 20 minutes, we arrived at a dark and dingy building. It looked like a factory.

As I got down and looked around, I quickly shrunk my nose in disgust. A pungent smell lingered in the air, and it wasn't long until I spotted the sign at the front of the building and realized it was a garbage recycling plant. What was Mom doing here every night? I wondered.

"Come on, let's go inside," Mom said, and I followed her into the building. We navigated through dark hallways leading to different areas, each buzzing with the sound of machines and filled with the unpleasant odor of waste processing.

The air felt heavy and damp, mixed with the scents of metal and trash. We finally arrived at a tiny room at the end of a corridor. It was so cramped, filled with metal lockers and a few chairs, leaving hardly any space to move.

Mom opened one of the lockers and pulled out a well-worn blue jacket, along with two sets of gloves and masks. She handed me one set, then geared up herself. "Let's go meet Steve now," she said, her voice muffled by the mask.

As we walked out of the building, a man in a uniform approached Mom with a clipboard. I glanced at the nameplate on his uniform: Steve.

"You're here early, Kate. Well done! Who is this boy with you?" he asked, looking at me.

"Oh, my son just wanted to look around the place. He might help me a bit if he wants," she replied. Help? What is she talking about? I wondered.

"Just so we're clear, no pay for the kid. We usually don't do this, letting kids or extra folks pitch in," he said.

"Absolutely," Mom smiled and nodded.

"Alright then," Steve said. "Tonight, you're on bin 54. We need it sorted out pronto. Get started," and off he went.

"You see? Steve's just my boss," Mom said, looking right at me. But I couldn't even meet her eyes; I was too busy trying to hold back tears. "I'm so sorry," I choked out, my head hung in shame. "I got it all wrong..."

"Yeah, Trey, you did. I sort trash here. Steve's my boss, not my boyfriend. And no, I haven't moved on from your dad. I loved him more than anything!" Mom said quietly, then added, "I've got to get to work now. We've got bills to pay. You can head back to the car and wait."

But I couldn't just walk away. I hugged Mom instead, tears soaking my mask. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I'll make it right. I'll get a job too, help with the bills," I promised through sobs.

Mom hugged me back tight. "Trey, I want you to focus on your school. That's your job. I can handle this. I'm doing it so you can have a better future, understand? I don't mind the hard work."

But I felt very guilty about what I'd done. So I found a part-time job at a diner and started helping Mom around the house.

Years later, after graduating high school, I worked hard to obtain a scholarship to a top university. I worked hard and gave my all in college because I wanted to make my mom proud, and I did. After college, I got a good job and assured Mom I would look after us.

"Forgive me for the times I hurt you, Mom," I said, hugging her when I visited her with my first paycheck. "You looked after me when I needed you the most. It's now my turn to do the same for you. I love you."

"I love you, too, Trey," Mom replied and wrapped me in a hug like I was still her little boy.

It's true, you know. Our parents do so much for us, often quietly and without expecting much in return. The least we can do is show them love and respect. Don't make the mistake I did by jumping to conclusions and disrespecting Mom.

There might come a time when you'll wish they were right there with you, but they won't be. So, please appreciate them while you have the chance.

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