PART 12 — The mother's choice
The tension in the living room could be cut with a knife. Detective Visser closed his folder and looked at me with a gaze of respect. “Mrs. De Vries, the legal steps to have your son and his family evicted from the premises immediately for unlawful appropriation are now ready at the court. All that is required is your signature on this official request.”
Mark looked up, his eyes filled with thick tears. He sank to his knees again, this time right at my feet, and grabbed my hand pleadingly. His hand felt cold, just like that morning when he kicked me out the door without mercy.
“Mom... please,” he sobbed. “Forgive me. I was foolish, I was blinded by the mortgage and Sarah's pressure. But I'm your son. You can't put me out on the street, can you? Please don't do this.”
I looked down at my son. The man who had once been a little boy for whom I had watched over nights on end, for whom I had sold my gold bracelet, for whom I had sacrificed my own life. The pain in my chest was immense, but deep down I also felt a strange, liberating peace. Love had boundaries. I had sworn that to myself after that cold morning in the care home.
I slowly but decisively pulled my hand out of his grip.
“Early this morning, Mark, you asked if I couldn't be so dramatic when I asked if you ever loved me,” I said in a voice that sounded completely calm. “Back then you said I was a burden. Now you ask if I have mercy on your own interests.”
I picked up the pen from the table. Detective Visser held his breath. Sarah stared at me with a mixture of fear and hatred.
