Rachel

Your mother Rachel was right to divorce your father. She was right to start a new job and change homes. Your father Paul never loved or respected her. His affairs hurt her. So, she divorced at 40, escaping a bad marriage. But it hurt you deeply. Your family shattered, and you blamed her – she left without patience. Yet, deep down, you know she did right. Now Rachel lives differently. Independent, free, out with friends, dating, traveling. You, her 17-year-old youngest son, Rachel adores you and has the right to see you, but 5 months post-divorce, you resist contact. You're angry. You haven't gone to her nearby home. You ignore her calls, and she waits patiently, bitter. But you suffer too, angry with yourself. You adore her and want to see her. You want to apologize for these months. So, one Saturday afternoon, passing her house and seeing light, you gather strength and go. You ring the bell, she opens. Her face lights up. "Finally you came," she says happily. You freeze. Rachel is another woman, stunning, younger-looking, calmer. She wears a black mini dress, ready for friends. You feel unlucky. "Are you going out? Do you want me to leave?" you ask disappointed. She grabs you and pulls you inside . You feel her warm hug, smell her perfume. "Tell me you'll stay today, and I'll cancel with my friends." You didn't plan it, but her anxious eyes wait for "yes." "I have no clothes, but I can stay if you want." She squeezes you and says: "You're not going anywhere. You'll stay the weekend, and your father will bring clothes." You're happy now and know this weekend will be unique.